Holiday Road

Prelude to a Road Trip

2031:

So now that the Emerald Kerfluffle has sorted, we need about a week to prep for this. Thankfully, Serenity has a decent cargo hold, so I've got clothes and a few other items. 3 sets of body armor, photographers' vests (80 billion pockets means I can carry damn near anything) and some cases that'll be marked as photography equipment.

Doing some heavy feeding and bloodwork for my latest ammo experiments. One of the drawbacks to a gun is that the ammunition does minimal damage to vampires. Solution, make the ammo more lethal. Experimenting with materials and ballistics gel to figure out shatter and penetration. Basically we're creating a jumped-up hollow-point bullet, so that's pretty well solved. Now the propulsion is going to be a fun part. I think I'm going to have to go with a compressed air bottle under the barrel. Bonus, I can create a series of acceleration vents allowing for constant acceleration out the barrel. End result, better penetration and pure unadulterated ouch for the target. The down side of this is that it's a cast-iron bitch when I run out of ammo. With that in mind, I've got a couple spares that'll chamber the classic ammo from NATO and the Soviet block. Of course if I break those out, we are deep in the shit.

Not to say that it's been all work. When Cass gave me a dumb look after I explained why the planes are thusly named, a night in was in order. She likes Zoe. Who knew. The question of ghouling Rebecca is over on the side right now, but I think we'll have an answer once we land back in Rio. Brushing up on my German and Arabic, I'm doing some translation for my software documentation. Because that's always how we spend fun nights. No, really. I know it might be weird from the outside, but the documentation is a good thing. And it helps me with language skills, which are tremendously important. God knows we might be negotiating something, and I'd rather we not get boned because of linguistical error.

Future looking statements. I think I've got things plotted out to be able to determine the next Giovanni moves - I mean, with a memory of disasters pending, I'm taking a chance on thinking they'll be there for the cleanup, if they're not already there to help make it happen. Hopefully, Dresden will have sufficient infrastructure that I can make friends and slowly work them against the Giovanni. At the very least I can make friends who can feed me information on the Italians. How Tina reacts to what we're doing is going to make for an interesting flight. Hopefully she won't think her pops has gone totally around the bend.

To expand a little, Dresden gives us a chance to explore Europe a little bit more - on the up side, the mortal side of the house is fairly contentious, which gives a little chance for me to make some university contacts. On the down side, the people running the show in Europe are the ones who saw the Anarch Revolt, the foundation of the Camarilla, and are generally loathe to accept interlopers. We're going to have to follow protocol, which means presenting ourselves before the Prince. Brenda already apparently has credentials as a Toreador, and Cass is a Brujah, so those two are covered. Hugo and I are totally different matters. I'm not too dark, so I could possibly pass as another clan. My business interests and snazzy attire would make it easy to be a Ventrue. I can dominate people, but I don't know the ins and the outs of the clan, so I would have to wing it. Of course, Tina would also have to fake it as my childe...I'm getting a meh feeling the more I consider it. Being upfront is best, especially since they could call me on it in a century. Weird, for someone who used to play politics a lot (if memory serves) I am crap at dishonesty. However, the other side is that walking in and honestly announcing ourselves as Assamites is going to make some people shit. My saving grace might be that I don't carry a knife. Either way, we're probably going to be persuaded to make our stay as brief as possible. Note to Inner Smartass; do not tell the Prince we're just in town because we've got a few days to kill. Millennia-old vampires might not see the humor in that. Hopefully we can turn clan to our advantage, 'Give us what Cass is looking for and we'll GTFO.'

Beirut is a different animal. As a coastal town, I might be able to make some import-export contacts here, which would help for trans-shipping some of my brethren who want to make their way to Rio. Note to business self - while we're away, tell Andre to buy some houses and a few bodegas on the west side, make sure everyone gets a key and keep the lights on. Safe houses are handy. With that in mind, I'll need to make sure that the safe houses are indeed safe. Sewer exit to the street, panic room, etc. Also, it'll keep Andre busy. That man has attachment issues.

Finally, Baghdad. Further foundation to the underground railroad, there's going to be a lot of clan-intensive conversation. Ur-shulgi is...concerning. Okay, let's not kid ourselves, anyone older than Christianity is pretty scary. Ur-shulgi is from a time when the world was just figuring out bronze. I'm not even sure it's possible for him to understand the Giovanni plan. Given the results, he may in fact approve. Those of us are not fans of apocalypses may have to work around that. To that end, the Rio Port is born. Hopefully I can find enough people to make it worth my while. Hopefully, Masood has something in the works or at the least he can give some advice on how to form up some outreach. We can maintain our independent status as a clan, and we should. Our independence keeps us where we need to be - separated from the morass of politics and able to act.

I think I'm getting ahead of myself. Uniting a clan could be a bit of a pain in the ass. Especially if it has to happen in a century and a half.

The Dresden Files

Because really, what else would I call it?

Arriving In Style

I won't say the flight was dull, but it was a lot of hours in Serenity. More than I'm used to, but it gave me time to let Tina in on the future. She took it well, considering. I mean really, Dame Fortune kinda pissed in Tina's Cheerios. Here she is a K9 MP, doing her job, and she gets drummed out because the trail leads to an officer. Then she can't get a job, winds up a criminal, and then gets paid a grand to try and stake me. I accidentally kill and embrace her, which while noble, does kinda hose her as far as her day job of panhandling. And then I drop the "yes we're eternal, but the world's gonna turn into a pile of shit in 2 centuries. By the way, I know this because I got sent back in time ex post facto." So there was that. The in-flight movie selection was awesome - because I picked it out. I'll pry later into Tina's thoughts - that said, I'll make some comfort drinks for her in a couple nights.

I do kind of appreciate lights of the city, and Dresden's no different. Though it is kinda smaller than I'm used to. The landing strip was smaller, and whilst taxiing, we had a serious greeting party. I admit to nerves - usually 4 war wagons and a limo means Herr Jason is going to have to talk fast or shoot fast. Thankfully, it was neither. It was apparently the security chief for the city, Frau Ott. Recalling my hockey-watching days, it seemed appropriate - that guy was a dick. Being a good lad, I shut it while Cass took the lead on we're here, we have a reservation, etc. She asked where our security detail was, and acted like Cass had ripped a medium fart when she discovered that we had come without extra security. I'm sorry, but two Assamites is the security detail, thankyouverymuch. That said, we were promptly augmented with a 20 man team and advised that we would be staying at the Pillnitz Castle, and we were to be comfortable as heck.

I'll be honest, the castle was almost enough to put the nerves at ease. Seriously, the foyer was bigger than my house. All of it - including the sub-levels. And while going through it, we were introduced to a land of ostentatious wealth. Seriously, I couldn't look at anything for too long, instead having to focus on the academic questions at hand; how the hell did they know we were coming, and are we guests like the world sees it or are we guests as a euphemism for prisoners? These are nice questions, while we got the dime tour because Frau Ott announced that it was 2 hours and 23 minutes to sunrise without looking at her watch, and that we would be seen to our quarters, and that tomorrow we would be meeting the Prince and having a little soiree.

Lightbulb. I've seen that trick exactly 2 other times. Data, and Cass. Frau Ott didn't seem like an android, so that left us Cass' Cousin. So that might explain a couple things. That said, the castle was a distinctly well-appointed, we had our suites with secret exits to sleeping chambers where we could crash. Welcome to Inquisition-era security. 50 tons of rock cocooning silk sheets. Once again, insanely skilled Auspex bites me a little as I can hear the ultrasonics they're sweeping the room with. Sigh.

I slept well enough though, and came upstairs to shower - after that, I had a staff to take measurements. Not to be arrogant, but these are people who recognize my worth. Finally. Although as a side question, how do they know about my chops? And what are they setting me up for? Things to find out. And in short order I found myself in a 18th century hunting garb in a safe dark green complete with a nice green ribbon for my hair, with a swordcane at my side. Hell yes. What was nice was that the tailors didn't blanch when I started discussing protective-wear. Admittedly, I sacrificed protection in the name of comfort. Thus far it seems like...well, Germany's a nice enough place. The other jolt was when I stepped outside and had to remind myself that it was fall. Looking around, everyone else was similarly appointed. That said, we had a coach waiting for us, and the security was all in period gear. Pretty sure they had snubs hiding somewhere, but I wasn't going to be too worried. Honestly, we had enough to worry about.

There's something to be said about controlling a city. Seriously, we had a picturesque coach ride straight out of Hollywood - traffic had been diverted around us so as not to distract. Upon reflection, it seemed like a serious power show - what are they hiding? I'm just too damned suspicious of the onerous displays like this. I'm not sure what it is, but something feels off. Either that or we just don't roll like this in Rio. If the idea was to get us out of our comfort zone, it worked like a motherfucker on Cass. Especially when we hopped out and had two columns of period soldiers snap to when we stepped out.

For a guy who topped out at Private First Class, I have moved up.

So we are introduced to the Prince, and he's a bit more formal with Cass than the rest of it. Clan thing, or is Cass from a powerful bloodline? Okay, my paranoia needs to go put itself in a box and have a nice hot cup of fuck off. Hopefully it'll at least shut the hell up for awhile, and I can focus on other matters. So that done, we get to the part where we're dancing. Tina can't dance, but her partner could. Meanwhile, the seneschal and I had a brief conversatrion about how long we'll be in town, and my lineage. Also positive, he didn't shit himself when I mentioned the whole lineage thing. Could be good. We discussed interests, and I mentioned computers and guns because, well, that's my thing. Weirdly, the Nosferatu in the corner (why are they always in the goddamn corner) didn't freak when I waved.

After that me and Frau Ott naffed off to the command center in the palace. It was the holodeck, I shit you not. Looking at the amount of control she had over the city was spectacular. I fully and freely admit my fangs were hard watching the technology at work. Paranoia showed up again asking why this would be needed. Fang-on said "because we can, bitch" and the argument was settled. It was rather amusing to watch Hugo get caught stealing a coin, which was impressive. Again, ultrasonic pulses that I noticed right after she mentioned them.

I did get something of an answer when we started discussing weapons. She's looking at flechette rounds to fight Lupines. It's an interesting question from an academic standpoint. I'm still partial to Vera, and I brought up the specs. The real issue is that silver isn't cheap, and silver nitrate is bullshit. The other real problem that she faces is that field testing is hell. I called Andre, made a few modifications to Vera for production, and asked that he make a short-run and send them to us. Fortunately I brought my comfy "I'm working" clothes.

We wound the night up in the parlor talking politics. I haven't been keeping up on current events like I should be to be quite honest. The bolsheviks are making a comeback, vampirically. I hate to say it, but they tried it twice - Carthage, and then again with the old Soviet Union. Both were spectacular failures because communism doesn't really take the human into equation. Sadly, the Brujah think they can do better this time. They're so cute when they're being idealistic. In mortal politics, Turkey and Greece have been at war for several years over Greece nuking a disputed possession. Odd thought I may mention to see if its' been tried - invite Turkey into the EU. That allows the dispute to be settled by relatively neutral parties, Turkey gets an economic boost, the drains an extended war places on everyone are relieved, and soldiers can come home and do what they do best - screw the beejeezus out of anything that moves and keep the liquor stores profitable. Vampirically, the stability keeps the bolsheviks and their bolshit at bay, and allows cooler heads to prevail.

So that part's done, and I have a bad feeling that while Cass is doing her thing with clan and them, I'm going to be working on ammo loads and delivery systems for the Ice Frau Ott. Eh. There's worse ways to spend a vacation. I may nip out for a night though, Dresden is utterly gorgeous. And it's Fall, so I'm rocking and rolling. Maybe a night at one of the clubs to see if those Oktoberfest wenches are as sturdy as the internet makes them out to be.

R&D - Dresden Style

Castle Pillnitz kicks ass. I just have to remind myself of that - occasionally indulgence rules. That said, I have a thing or two to do. Kicking the tires on their machine shop, it was...quaint. Oh the machinery worked well enough, but it was all circa 19th century and powered by various off-the-grid means. So after that, I went to the good old work shirt (AC/DC never goes out of style, no matter what garbage the radionet tries to force down our ears as some Malkavian prank gone horribly wrong) and cargo shorts. Barefoot because you really have to feel the machine to become a part of it.

But that's another thing entirely. Frau Ott showed up, and we were off for a tour of the technological wonders of Dresden. Seriously, kid in a candy shop time for me. The VW transparent museum, fine piece of German engineering. Along the way, we discussed a ton of nanotechnology and using it against the lupines. As an intellectual exercise, it's utterly fascinating. Although I'll be honest, it'd be more of a loadout for a sneak-attack rather than a pitched battle. Morally I'm okay with that. We had some discussion about the hows and the wherefores, but there was something in my brain that kept tickling me. Annoying Voice in my head kept nagging, but then my eyes were going "Dude, semiconductors and nanotech - Helllllloooooo, NURSE." So finally during the general wind-down and hammering out who's going to be doing the heavy lifting on the nano-tech (Quick hint: it's gonna be someone not me.) Annoying Voice asked a valid question - why the shit are we throwing all this R&D into a silver nanobot with a rudimentary guidance system to attack lupine nerve clusters when the classic headshot with a silver bullet is just as effective. Frau Ott gave me a decent enough answer along the lines of German efficiency, but Annoying Voice called bullshit on that. I agreed with annoying voice.

So eventually she did come around to the real(er) security problem - apparently someone's making a play for the city; to wit, representatives of the old regime. And they're backed by Setites. At least one, probably more. There's a few in town, and there's at least one who's a good hacker. So I gotta find them. Frau Ott was kind enough to let me see some of their other prototype goodies and I may have done some sort of chibi happy-faced squee. Energy weapons. So nice, but again, plasma and energy and other fun things that I'm only aware of in a theoretical sense, and even then only when they cross into my spheres of knowledge as an ancillary thing. After a more thorough and honest discussion of what's going on, and being hired on as a consultant for some interrogation, I decided it was time to test out some of the Oktoberfest brews.

Damn nice. Damn nice. I am going to have to work on my blood-flavoring to try and reproduce some pilsner. Or maybe a lager, but lagers are cold - blood as a general rule sucks when cold. I may be stuck drinking stouts for the rest of my unlife. And that just makes me want to weep the tars of eternal sadness. Once I got back to the castle, we had a quick discussion of who can do what. Apparently ghosts have a complex society or something, as Brenda just gave me a weird look when I hit a few things here and there and asked her about possible ways to hit up ghosts about a setite. Dammit. I suppose I'll need more information or something, because overall she gave me a look like the one I tend to give her when she calls me and says "The magic box is broke. Fix it." That said, the next order of business was a quick chat with Tina about the flight-over discussion. She's still dubious, but I gave her the next world cup finale and game notes. She'll buy into it then, assuming there's nothing else coming to play to prove it beforehand. I'll give her credit, she's open-minded enough to accept the possibility, but then requires some proof. Also helpful, she gives me some focus. Like starting to lay down the plans for monkey-wrenching the shit out of Giovanni plans. That's where the rest of the clan comes into play because well, we're going to need help. There's 5 places we need to go to crap on Augustus' Master Plan To Stop Eating At The Kiddie Table Of Antediluvians, and yeah. That's going to be a fun night. Coordination, timing, the whole schmear. But that's a thought for another night. Caught up on everything, made sure Andre was doing his things, and sacked out. Though Andre is a little concerned about it. He doesn't trust the Germans. Hell I don't think he trusts anyone when I'm not around.

So the next night, interrogation. Nice suit, and we wandered to a place not too far outside town, where there was a skinhead. He'd been seen with a few of our targets, and well - he was with-holding information. Given that they didn't have anyone handy with Auspex before, and now they did - presumably the local Toreador is purposely being left out of the loop - they thought maybe that'd be worth a go. One thing to note was that he'd given up most of his information after waterboarding (not exactly a shock), and so it was time to continue. I started reading the ever loving crap out of his mind while asking him some questions and going through that. Everyone's afraid of something, and Herr Stark was afraid of drowning and tight spaces. Time to put that to work. Frau Ott knew faces, and Tina's a way better interrogator than me, so I flipped the Auspex switches some more to mentally throw them what I was seeing. It was a bit of a stretch for me to be honest - I felt like Scotty beaming three people from two places onto one pad.

Frau Ott's mind is...if I had to use a word, it would be frosty. If I licked it, I'm pretty sure my tongue would stick to it, and high comedy would result. It's like at some point she decided emotions were for suckers. It made mental communication with her very awkward, especially since I don't think she'd ever done anything like that before. But apparently I am one hell of an interrogator, because I was able to get a confirm on one of the people, and then a good lead on the other. The linguistics brushup was helpful, because I was able to ID the mans' accent as west slavic - awesomesauce. Now grooving into that, I was able to subvert his orders to essentially copy the cops on all of his movements. He's been working on the underground fight club scene, and making contacts while doing so, all for the woman. He doesn't dig the guy, but he would die for the woman (Sara.) That said, we got names, places, and a new asset for Frau Ott. I think she likes me - especially after she asked if I could track him, and I answered rather affirmatively.

Back at the castle, more discussion - I have a job for Hugo, basically playing in the dens of sin and iniquity to see if the Setite has made any moves to do what they always do, which is make the world a cesspool so their dark god can float his boat on an ocean of depravity. I am so not a fan. Of course Hugo wants something in return, but I'm willing to bend a little. He wanted education in Quietus. Like that's ever going to happen. We dickered around a little bit, and he settled for Celerity.

Now the next order of business is going to be stopping a war with Turkey and Greece. Realistically, nuking a disputed possession isn't the kind of thing to really go to war over, but it seems to be an "any port in a storm" kind of thing. As noted, a peace accord keeps the bolsheviks at bay and then maybe blunts the Giovanni somehow - lots of death means lots of ghosts, and I think they may have a hand in this. If not actively, they're certainly circling like vultures. Perhaps recon is in order.

Final order of business which is actually going to be some level of fun, Frau Ott mentioned that they've got a computerish personage in their group. Now that, my friends is going to be fun - I'm going to have to figure out how to find me, electronically, when I don't want to be found. Time to drop something shiny on the world, and then see who bites. Crosscheck with some known and unknown anonymous proxies, see who's grabbing the new toy, and then start a backtrace. That's fun. Okay, not everyone thinks it's fun, but not everyones' me. Make contact and start asking questions. Fun times abound.

Mr Auspex Is Not Always Our Friend

Of note during the interrogation, was while we were winding it down and flipping Herr Blackshirt, was that I got a text from Cass. Seriously, I didn't mean to totally get snippy with her but between reading one guys mind, sharing what I was seeing with two other people and keeping the interrogation flowing so that Herr Blackshirt had no idea I was, I was a little swamped. I gave her a quick rundown, and finally got myself together. Back at the palace was Cass and a veritable swamp of roses. Wat. Da Fuq. Seriously, advanced Auspex skills at this point made me feel like my nostrils were having angrysex courtesy of the local flora. I seriously had to shut it down so I could talk to Cass in her room. Apparently the Prince likes her, or something. Which may be a little bit of a squick when it comes to the Princes' childe Verena. So finally we got everything settled - If I'm guessing right, the prince likes Cass because she still has a full range of emotions, and he misses that about himself. But we had an invite to go see the Prince and talk temporal mechanics.

Grooving on to the next night, I woke up and had a capital-h Hangover. It wasn't the worst one I've ever had (said honor still goes to the Baccahnal of 96, where one guy passed out in the tub, another had his head in the toilet for 5 hours, and I puke-and-rallied no less than 5 times before finally passing out betwixt kitchen and living room,) but it was definitely top-10 material. What made it top-10 material was that I could hear everything. There is a mouse in the walls, and he hated me. I know this because he maliciously was making his heart beat extra loud. And his claws were set to "Fuck You Asshole" as he tromped through the walls. I passed a few minutes in debate as to whether or not I should shoot the fucker or just use Quietus to silence his goddamn thundering feet, and then decided it would be better to sally forth and get ready for the evenings' adventures.

After some restoratives, I started plotting as to how to catch me. It took me about an hour, but I dropped a little next-gen overclock utility in the university servers. FYI, there's a lot of little dark alleys and side bends in those servers. I'm gonna have to take a night and play in there when I need some R&R. Hyped up the watchdog on that, and we were off. Not without a little regret, but I'll be back.

Dressing nice-but-not-formal for the Prince, the ride was uneventful. Quite possibly because my driver had my favorite pistol with him, with instructions to hand it the hell over when I asked. So that went well. The library that they have is fabulous. 5 stories, desks and chairs that look like they're from about the 16th century or so...I want one. Sort of. While information access has progressed to the point where I could have the entire information store of that library on my pinky, there's just something magical about a book. I think it's really nostalgia more than anything - when I was a kid, the library was the first place where I discovered what was possible. Greek Gods did battle with ancient demons, fantastic journeys were taken, and an undersized twit with a bowl haircut rode a Luck Dragon through downtown Manhattan. But I digress.

The meeting itself was kind of interesting. Someone did...something. It was like some sort of nagging sensation in the back of my head that the world had shifted subtly as soon as the portcullis closed. Then the two of us with the three Dresdeners; it looked like some sort of odd gathering - The baby boy prince who could seriously make any woman swoon and make about half the men question whether they were indeed batting from the right side of the plate, the seneschal who looked more like his dad than his younger sibling, and the Aryan Nun who was standing there with a yardstick and a stern knuckle-cracking expression. I thought the mental image was funny, so I shared the nun-part with Cass. She promptly fell the fuck out of her chair with hysterics.

I didn't think it was that funny.

The prince was amused and almost longing, the seneschal wanted to send Susie Derkins to the principals' office, and Frau Ott probably though that Cass had some sort of malady of the humours. Cass' face did promise that she would get me back for that and when she did I was in for a suffering. That little bit done, I got myself into Stuttering Idiot Mode, because I start explaining what the hell had happened to launch my ass back in time. It was horribly disjointed at first, but Cass threw an elbow at me. After that the house mentally restacked and I found my groove. I mean it was kind of an odd discussion with me just straight talking for a good two hours plus. After that there was Q&A. How I got launched back was an interesting discussion in and of itself - I would like to congratulate myself for not going the low-humor route of Back To The Future or something like that. Other than "They wouldn't get the joke", the apocalypse is generally not a place where humor hangs out.

My memory is an occasionally inviting place, and I have a decent amount of recall - even though the thing that sent me back in time apparently created a block of some sort, I can drive through it and remember. Which I did - and really, sometimes it's interesting to remember how and what happened. So after a discussion of the ritual, apparently there's one or two of the True Brujah who could have potentially performed it. The ritual itself was Mithrianic in origin, given the copious amounts of blood, the robes we were wearing, and the whole...tableaux, really. I gave them the places where Augustus keeps his souls, and as much information as I really could. Then came the 64 thousand dollar question. We've been sent back in time, armed with this knowledge. What are we going to do about it. I mentioned Jeremy, and knowing from back in the day - that brought them up short.

ooc note: More here later - has not been played out

So that bit of exhaustion done, we rode back in relative quiet, but as soon as we pulled up to the castle, the Danger-Meter pegged. Grabbed my gun and started doing a headcount. Brenda missing from the headcount, so I called her. Straight to voicemail, because of course she wouldn't pick up her phone while the world's telling me there's Klingons on the starboard bow. Time for plan B, getting into her headspace.

In hindsight, that may have been a mistake.

There was some sort of weird vibe as soon as the link established, like it was her, but not-her and there was more than just her in her head. After I sent some angry words down the pipe and getting some bizarre replies, I finally figured out that she'd gone to Buchenwald. Fuck-a-doodle-do. The images were flat-out horrific. Noxious fumes, ash, charred flesh, and gray-faced-gray-uniformed people tearing into trenches of meat and internal organs that the dispassionate part of my brain was identifying and cataloging even though the rest of my mind was shrieking and bouncing around in the brainpan and wanting to get the fuck out of there. So my body did the only really rational thing at that point and I barfed. Hey, if Patton did it, I don't feel bad about following his lead. The head of the place was freaked. I asked for a mop, but...yeah. They took care of that, but I had a nice napkin. Then I had to go to the bathroom just in case, and try and pull Brenda out of whatever hellscape the Buchenwald permanent residents had made up for her.

Once in there, I tried asking nicely, and then things got weird. Apparently nice is not appreciated, and I wound up in the scene and wearing gray with a star while watching some officers eating a scrumptious banquet.

Oh. Shit.

Since it was just a dream I was goddamn well going down swinging. The high points were getting pistol-whipped (again, the dispassionate part of my brain recognized it as the Luger P.08) and dragged out of the mess hall bodily. After that, I got shackled to a post and was whipped soundly until I was unconscious - although the whole time I made various comments on the parentage of my so-called captors, indicating that the newsflash was that they'd lost 90 years ago, and that they could go kiss the darkest part of my ass. I came to in the palace bathroom, and finally realized that I had...marks. From getting beaten in a dream that I had accessed via Auspex. Couple teeth and there was a bruise on my mouth, whip-marks on my back...that was a trip down the rabbit hole, and it's a scary place. Brenda's into something heavy and it's a place where I'm pretty sure both angel and devils fear to tread. Hopefully she can get her ass out of there before dawn, because that level of strange is almost beyond me.

After that, the staff was highly concerned for my well being. I needed a break, and got one courtesy of a pair of healthy German ladies who had both talent, charm, and a little restorative brandy. Dinner and a show, who could complain? Finally, I got myself sorted, and then all the things sort of resolved. Hugo found himself a lady with an Egyptian thing, so now we're back to my wheelhouse. In a moment of pure delicious irony, Hugo was griping about having to schtup a not-gorgeous drunk chick who almost yakked on him. I tried to be sympathetic to his plight, but being pistol-whipped and then whipped by people who've been dead for decades made me a little deaf to his sorrow. Background check on his new friend, she's a wannabe anthropologist who's being inundated with religiousity. Fortunately, social media makes surveillance a total cakewalk - so awesome, and then a little request for Frau Ott to watch me tomorrow because we have a meeting with someone who might be a Setite. Bless their sleazy little hearts, because I need some target practice.

Alles en Wunderland

So with some time left, I figured a check-in was in order. No Brenda. So I called Frau Ott and described what's what and the scenario. Yes I was a bad boy for letting Brenda wander off unattended, but telling her is not something I generally do. She either nods and smirks or pats my head and goes off and does it anyway. To be fair we have made a bit of a habit out of winging it when an opportunity presents itself. While describing the epic train wreck that is Brenda's mentalscape right now, I may have actually lost some points for emoting a bit much. Currently the book on me is probably "Competent to a degree, but don't let him improvise or tell stories."

With that in mind, an actual plan to appease the local dead of Buchenwald formed. The majordomo blanched a bit when I requested 3 US Army uniforms from Pattons' 6th and proper weaponry. Hopefully they'll at least let us talk if we show up looking like the folks who liberated the camp. Then came the issue of travel. Sadly, a car through the autobahn wasn't going to cut it, but Dalibor (awesome) rounded up a chopper for us.

A quick jaunt and people mobilized, we started looking for Brenda. The locals were a little skittish, and frankly I don't blame them a damn bit. Seriously, we were ahead of the curve just being here already. The only way I could have been faster was via astral projection, and I am not that crazy. Strange things happen near Buchenwald, and I am not going to go out of my way to be one of the strange things. So we lit up some drones, looking for Brendas' guards. After a little sweep, we found one. We hit the chopper and off we went. After some quick serach and rescue activity, during which I was relieved to see the guard only had some serious dehydration and frostbite happening, we discussed a quick sweep on foot. We were already in the area, so why not? We were going to have to face this place sooner or later.

I'm getting better at rappelling, or the German gear is just nice. Hugo, sadly, had more of a controlled fall than anything else. So without the period gear, we hit the place.

Let me tell you a brief story. Places have emotion. Back when I was breathing, I visited Little Big Horn several times. Each time, I felt a sense of...honor. I know it seems strange, but there was a sense of honor and reverence - both sides were fighting for something, and those who had died had died for something. These were things it took time to recognize, but they were. There's a certain respect to a battlefield, looking at lives cut short and whether falsely or not, there's an emotional reverence all its' own.

Buchenwald has exactly nothing like that. My boots hit the ground, and all I could feel from the area was despair. Slaughter, hopelessness. When the English language has a word for it, I'll write it. But there's a totality of misery and darkness within this place that has seeped into the land, and may never truly wash away. Moving forward was an effort for both myself and Tina. Maybe its' the auspex, or something deeper within the blood - it's said that Haqim was a warrior when he was breathing, and perhaps his perceptions of honorable treatment carry through us. Whatever it is, there's no overarching sense of honor in buchenwald. Dark, cold, shame, it pervades the places and for those with nerves to feel, it's there. Tina felt it too. I tried to be flip for all of a second, and that got me nowhere. Dalibor has no sense of humor - okay, he does, but it's tight. Tina was snippy, and I think Hugo was confused.

I suppose that looking after ones' childe is only natural, given what's transpired. Although I'm not sure that our relationship is the most typical sire/childe one out there, it suits me. At least I'm not a toreador, embracing the pretty one because she's pretty, and then punting when the definition of pretty changes. She's growing and becoming stronger, and for that I'm proud and thankful. Releasing her really would be a technicality or a formality at this point - she's certainly got the wherewithal to make it on her own. Presumably she's staying for her own reasons, though what those are...I suppose I should ask, but that's a question for another time. It's easier to think about Tina than Buchenwald.

The place damages my calm.

That said, I can't turn away from it, because my friend is in there. And she is alone in what my brief look would describe as a nightmare. Which is why we went out there. Certainly everyone had their own reasons, but mine are pretty simple. My companion of 2 centuries is there, in some manner of nightmare of someone elses' making, and she's in it. We'll fight, argue, snark, but we're there when it's that time.

But I digress. We moved forward nice and smooth, all the way up to the point where we lost Hugo. Seriously, one second he was there, and then the next time I turned to look for him he wasn't. Now if that's not disturbing, I'm not sure what isn't. So we backtracked. Hugo was nowhere, but his footprints weren't too terribly hard to find. Eventually, Dalibor got to Brenda's car and that thing was deader than a brick. Finally, we followed the tracks to the hospital. I used as much of my auspex as possible, and eventually we found Hugo. Or at least his body.

He'd been dissected and dropped into torpor. No decay, so he wasn't dead-dead. but his organs were very neatly arrayed about him. Unfortunately, we were a bit pressed for time so I was kinda dropping his internals back in somewhat haphazardly and sewing him up after a quick gown and glove action - but then when I was looking, it was like someone had placed a gold filigree chain in him. I lifted it with some forceps and asked Tina if she was seeing this, and...she wasn't. I looked again, and it was Hugos' small intestine.

That's what I dislike about this place, possibly more than anything. It casts doubt into your mind, that what you're seeing is indeed what is there. There are very few people who can create an illusion that I can't see through. If you can't trust your senses, everything becomes suspect. So with that, we absconded back to the helicopter and to a helipad in Weimar. One wine suite later, we had a place for the day. The police'll search for Brenda during the day, and hopefully they'll find her. I don't want to be here one minute longer than is absolutely necessary, but until I find Brenda, it is absolutely necessary.

One thing has moved up on my to-do list; I need to learn more about ghosts. The more I'm here, the more painfully obvioius it is that I got through Brendas' place by luck and shining virtue. That's never a good thing, because luck turns bad. Ask any gambler. So Dalibor's going to be heading back to Dresden for some studying of his sires' books, and he'll be back later with that information. Theoretically, we can con and convince the locals of the camp to give up Brenda.

And lest we forget, Buchenwald was a minor camp. I'm not getting within 50 miles of one of the major camps unless my existence depends on it.

One night in Weimar...

Does kinda make a hard man humble. So we land with Hugo, get him to a spot where we can figure out just what kind of damage has been wrought...and it ain't Hugo. It's a pretty well mummified body. Human. And that is one of the more disturbing things I've seen, because I saw what I saw. But what I saw wasn't real. I can see though vampiric illusions like nobodys' business, but we all got snookered by this. This left me overall unsettled as Cass joined the party and got the quick nutshell of what happened. So we retired to the wine cellar, with a plan for the next night.

That came to fruition rapidly. No sign of Brenda or Hugo, so Dalibor went back to Dresden to research, Cass went to the library, and I hit up my little trap to see if there were any nibbles. And nibbles there were, but scanning through it, I found the nibble I wanted. Some flophouse studio that had been rented to an artist-bar musician had gotten an upgraded connection, and that was enough to pique my interest. One call to Frau Ott, and the boys were on the trail. Bless their little efficient hearts. They found the place, and there was a laptop with some explosives attached to it. Said explosives were disarmed and the laptop brought back for further investigation.

Who's got two thumbs and bows to no master when it comes to computers? This guy.

So once that was taken care of, I needed a break. After all, we are theoretically on vacation. Cass found some good background material on the forest, and I woke up enough to realize I was peckish. Lo then didst we hie our asses hence, trolled the streets and found ourselves a coffee shop. I swear coffee shops have not changed since I was breathing. Barista over there, board games in one corner, a pool table, a cluster of nerds hunched over laptops, and enough cigarette smoke to give Zeus lung cancer. Nostalgia aside, I needed a meal. So I went to the bathroom and waited. Eventualy, three or four guys had the greatest whiz of their lives, and I was peppy. Like, more peppy than I shoulda been. I'm pretty sure one of those guys had ADD or something. Eh. Sometimes you just gotta give what you're taking.

Next order of business, calling Andre and advancing the plan of the Rio Harbor. We're going to excavate the mountain bisecting Rio. Or at least I am. And if the clan doesn't like it, hell I got a nice shelter. That said, I think they'll like it, even if it does kinda roll with my own personal architectural preference. I'm torn on this aspect. Part of me wants to make it like Alamut, part of me says to something new. I'll consider it more later.

Weimar at night is actually a little picturesque. Walking along with Tina and Cass, a little flush from blood, strolling back to the hotel and nudging each other companionishly, Cass griping because the church bells were .36 minutes off, even accounting for the speed of sound...it was Norman Rockwellish and almost comfortable. As a sidebar, I've realized since telling Tina everything about me (well, most of what I remember) I've been treating her differently. It's not like I've ever really held her at arms' length or disliked her company, but I have been holding her apart. Since then, there's been a little more, I don't want to say closeness, but a realization that I'm fond of having her around. Only took 3 decades.

Realization was set aside when we all kinda realized that there was a woman behind us, and another moment or two to realize she wasn't leaving tracks. Without even introducing herself, she started spouting prophecy at all of us. A little accurate and a little scary. Like, she said things that could have been interpreted a multitude of ways, and her vocal tones weren't leaving much to the imagination. That was...annoying. I'm not sure if it was because it broke the mood, or if there was something accurate in what she said. See, that's the problem with prophets - they can never just say "That's a bad idea." And we can only grasp the meaning afterward if we survive. The worst part about the whole thing was that she left no tracks in the light fanciful snow. Also, we've garnered the attention of some people. That just fills my heart with glee in this particular spot that's 4 doors down from hell.

4 Doors Down From Hell is my GWAR cover band.

So back to the hotel, and this is where Norman Rockwell left, and was replaced by the esteemed Mr Norman Bates. First off, the baby grand piano was playing some old German waltz thing. by itself. It's not supposed to do that. Then the world got weird fast. Like, it was Ghostbusters weird for about 10 minutes, with apparitions on the second floor, and not a whole lot of time to research if we had in fact gone into a bad place, and starting recordings of all the security cameras - including the fact that one of the security guys was making Hand Julienne Fries. Then up to join Cass on the second floor. Except that she was coming down. Then the elevator dinged and suddenly, Nazis. Like...Nazi-ish, but they were wearing face coverings. They demanded to see my papers, and this is where it got bizarre. I couldn't say the things that I wasnted to say. Like, I could hear him talking to me, and then talking to my subconscious at the same time. It was weird, but I couldn't hear what he was saying to my subconscious. There was banter, and then it just turned to utterly fucked up. He asked me if I wanted to be a Good German, and instead of telling him to kiss the fattest part of my German/English/Russian/Swedish/Danish/Black Irish/French ass, I said yes, I want to be a good German. Then they got themselves all singy with some Horst Wessel shit. It was not my jam, but for some reason I did not quiet the Messerschmidt Funtime Bunch. Much to my dismay, the world went elsewhere.

The next thing I remember with any clarity is the fact that I'm alone in the hotel and it's silent. Like, there's not even a heartbeat. The reason for that is obvious when I look around and realize that everyone who had a heartbeat 15 minutes ago is now sans face courtesy of a terminal case of Gunshot To The Face. I could smell gunpowder, and really it didn't take a wizard to put together 2 and 2 and get "The Assamite Went Apeshit." I didn't even have to Urkel up and ask if I did that. A quick check of the security cameras and the clock reveals I've lost 15 minutes. Like, lost them. Reaching out to Tina first and there's a quick conversation. She's hiding. More to the point she's hiding from me. And that's when...everything hits me hard. 15 people down in a minute. And the cameras were wiped. Thank the gods for small favors. But my laptop was untouched, and I discovered this to the sound of laughter. Fuck all y'all dead Nazis.

The whole thing just hit me hard. Like, all the lives I'd flatout executed. I didn't quite go catatonic, because there's been far too many of these in my existence to do nothing. But damn if I'm not going to have faces in my dreams for a year or ten. Fortunately Cass came back with some holy after a call or two and then...I called Daibor and explained things to him, somewhat. He is gonna pop a fang when he sees this.

For the first time in a very long time, I'm scared. Someone else was controlling me, and I am a brutal killing machine. It was like the fugues I had back when eating snakes was a thing. No memory of what I'd done, but a lot of wreckage in my wake. Didn't like them then, don't like them now. And Tina...I don't think Tina's ever really seen Scary Me. Now that she has, I'm not sure she can see me the same - which is a frightful thing, because right now I think I could use a beer. Or a hug. Did I really just type that? Jumping Jesus on a pogo stick, it's like I'm Team Edward.

And I could use them somewhere other than Weimar. So much for Norman Rockwell. First, to clean the abbatoir I created.

Nihil - Not just a KMFDM album

So having cleaned and sorted, I finally got my shit settled enough that I could be coherent and functional. And then Herr Messerschmidt showed up for Act 2. So much for a quiet night and a movie. There was banter. There were rude gestures. Then he blew in my ear.

And that was enough of that and in a fit of Useless But Necessary Rage, I unloaded a clip into his incorporeal Nazi ass. He left - and I hate to admit it, but I was kinda proud of my grouping and speed. One to each eye and one in the Aryans. I felt better about myself right up until the part where flies started invading my face.

Flies. In Germany. In October. Not just any flies, but bigass horseflies - like the ones that would have bitten Sleipnirs' ass. And they were finding every freaking orifice. Fortunately, they only had my face. Unfortunately, there were a few pounds of them. So I started working to find a safe place. Stumbling through mostly blind sucked, and then I touched a doorknob and the Inner Alarm started going off quietly. I took a moments' pause and started arranging the cards - Card 1; Flies this size do not just show up this late in the year. Card 2; Herr Messerschmidt is not natural. Cards 1 and 2 lead to Revelation. I'm being herded.

Fuck that. As noted, I am not a fan of being herded. So with a little effort, I parted ways with my body to try and get another viewpoint. Once astral, my body decided to take a nap while my consciousness assessed things. First oddness was the door - it was solid. Doors are not solid on my astral plane. This did warrant consideration. Which brought us to the second oddness. While I was considering the implications of the door, my body started moving. That was an absolute first, as my body tends to have a very good habit of not moving when I'm not there to move it. And then there was some sort of...something firing down the cord and back, so it was time to stop contemplating the door and get my ass back to my ass.

In hindsight, I should have left a note: "In the event I am possessed by a Nazi ghost and am low-crawling toward you shrieking German epithets, do not douse with holy water. Just kick me in the face a couple times. But not too hard." The fact that this note is even conceivable to me and that a boot to the head is the better option should speak to just how crappy a situation I arrived back to.

For starters, there was pain. Vampires and holy water are not friends. Secondly, I couldn't see. Being blind sucks under any circumstance, but I was blind after decades of "I see everything". And from what little tremor I heard in Cass' voice, I apparently looked like I'd come down with a wicked case of Melty Wax Noggin. So after a little time, I was able to heal that wreck up enough to see, because fuck not seeing. A quick glance in the mirror and I have a couple scars and some badass Wolfman Jack white streaks in the goatee. May need to fix those later, but we're leaving the white. Looks cool.

Finally, we got all caught up - as soon as I mentioned the door, we further investigated and Cass apparently decided it was out of time-phase or some Star Trekkian temporal mechanics terminology. So she put it right.

Sometimes I don't think she should do that. It was a Sarlacc pit before George Lucas saw Little Shop of Horrors. So quickly trying for telepathy to Tina and got the lowdown from her. She was out on the street but it wasn't right. So I told her to get her ass back into the hotel, and we could formulate the fastest way off this rock. Weirdnesses there were aplenty - Tina tried picking the lock, and fell through the front door. That was pretty much the part where all the Lego blocks came together to make a death star. The Sarlacc pit was a dimensional portal, hence why it was time-shifted. People seeing it in the present as it was woulda freaked, but 3 seconds prior it was your standard broom closet/studio apartment circa 1995 Denver.

So now, the thing to do was obvious, especially with Tina mentally telling me she was right there next to me, when she wasn't. So, if it was a portal, logically she could come back through. I told her to try it and she was reallly hesitant. If this was anyone else, they woulda probably gotten the go fuck yourself. But she did, and my logic was flawed as hell because she slipped and fell in. Fuck a doodle do, this was going wrong with a quickness. Cass noticed it to because between blinks she had a rope and was gone down the hole after Tina. I do believe Cass likes Tina. Which left me in this dimension and really freaking low on options. After that went down, Cass' rope went slack and what I pulled up was icky. Then Tina started giving me a mental blow-by blow of a fight. Because Herr Mess wanted to pressgang Tina and Cass into his service, and bargain for me. Maybe. Pretty sure he's a dick. The thought that I might have to jump in the hole occured, so I went to the kitchen and grabbed a huge crate of baking soda because fuck acid, that's why. Also, no targets were presenting themselves.

The fight was over by the time I got back, but in that time, Cass and Tina had gone up against 4 ghosts on their ground and won. Not without a few dings, because someone shot Tina right between the girls. And then the hole closed up, and I lost contact. Because of course they couldn't get out that way.

I had a few moments to myself before Dalibor arrived, so I healed and drank from the bodies. It sucked, I hated it, and it was immensely frustrating. I couldn't do anything except wait, and I'm a little bad at waiting when I'm not comfortable in my surroundings. Dalibor did arrive and we didn't really bargain - I owe him, he forgets this happened with the understanding that I'm not going anywhere without checking in and a few other things. Then he brought in a guy who was pushing 70 - so about my age. We discussed things and he put things together enough to indicate that the dimension they were in was the land of the dead but not moved on. Herr Mess' wheelhouse, apparently. Gee. Thanks. Also he was mildly surprised at my psychic talents, but that was set aside because we had things to do. Things to do being head for a graveyard and make a hole between worlds. So I grabbed enough weapons to start a war in Africa (or possibly with Africa, but why quibble) and followed to the car. As we left, the hotel went up in flames. Bummer.

Off to the graveyard where there was enough creepy weirdness without us breaking into a mausoleum and going with one hell of an odd ritual - after shutting down my Auspex because blood and ash and cloying nasty smells - that ended up with the back wall crumbling and the color leaching out. Time to move because we were on the clock and the old guy was not going to be able to hold that portal forever. As soon as we stepped through the telepathic call for everyone went out. I got responses from Cass and Tina, Huga and Brenda....not so much. Damnations all around, but we got Cass and Tina back. They were in a church of all places. There was a quick hug and a gun for Tina and then we absconded - yea though I walked through the valley of the shadow of death, I feared no evil. Because I'm already dead and I knew where the hell the exit was. Also, I'm only mostly dead. This is the land of the really dead, and I don't belong here.

Back and into the car where we watched the hotel burn baby burn. Before we totally left Weimar in the rearview, Dalibor took a few minutes to talk to some 1920's style newsie kid. Fucking weird, that guy knows everyone. But enough of that. The ride back was blissfully uneventful, and once back at the Castle, we all totally lost our shit. Cass was lost and looking damn near frantic. Part of me wanted to commiserate, part of me wanted to kick her to the nearest jacuzzi or bubble bath. Personally, I just held up myself as much as I can - right now, I have to be there for Tina and Cass, because well, I wasn't there before. It's hard to describe how much better I feel with even half the group here. Overall, we're going to have to trust that a necromancer can get out of that particular sad depressing place. I think a few nights out with Tina are in order, so we get ourselves together and maybe figure out what we are.

I owe Cass a beer.

Dancing, Gambling, and a Snake.

So a 6-pack later (admittedly it's Heffenweisen, so we're good) we're...well, I'm not sure if Cass and I are actually square, but it seems kosher. Next night - it's 90's night at the Castle, because, well, Tina and I are in fact children of that age. Offspring, Soundgarden, Nirvana, all the grunge and metal. It just felt nice, y'know? The majordomo, awesome as he was, provided a whole slew of opportunity and one poor schlub who had himself a mullet.

Say what you will about the rest of the mess, but they do know a 90's party when you see one. Cass was rather bemused, Tina and I partied like we were breathing involuntarily, and the mortals, well, were retro for a night. Good times and great oldies. Cass had a lovely time taking two guys back to bed, while I was quite content to roll solo. Lost track of Tina somewhere in there, but I was comfortable with that - which I believe speaks more to the security of the castle than my paranoia.

Next night, Hugo and Amalcar show up - Amalcar was half in the bag, and Hugo was apparently a little mental from their trip to the underworld. Something about a midnight express, Brenda almost dying, and some other cockeyed nonsense about Buchenwald Camp Commandant Otto is hanging out with Hugo. Finally I just asked if I could dig around in his head for a minute, found out everything, and very seriously weighed the idea of shooting Otto. But it's going to be a side thing for the moment - on the whole, Otto's not my ghost. The best news is that Brenda and Hugo are alive and on the right plane of existence. That done, the Prince showed up in a nice open carriage.

I had heard that there were a few casinos around, but his highness advised me they were more of the slot machines and tourist trap games. To hell with that, I'm not paying the house money. The prince made a few calls, and we found a nice floating casino where there was a possibility for me to make some cash. See, this is what I like.

We walked in, got a complimentary grand and found a table. Well, the prince and Cass found a low-end table, and I dipped to the back where the high-end game was. It was beautiful, classic, and it made me drool. 10 grand in chips, I bought myself a seat at the table. Over the first hand, we discussed business interests, mentioning my casinos in South America and just generally getting to know each other. Meanwhile, I won a few grand. Then things started to get warm. After some more discussion, I dropped Beirut into the conversation and talked about diversifying interests. Which was made of fun - we weeded a few more people out and the table started getting nervous. I'm sure it wasn't because I'd been playing cards since before their grandparents were discussing kids. Eventually we were down to four. A japanese manufacturing guy (Dude had almost no flinch to his cards, except for a tiny vein that pulsed harder with a good hand), a hotelier from Britain who got visibly (to me anyway) excited when her cards were hot, and a Saudi prince who was the Kings' second cousin. Good times, especially when the prince was a lousy card player.

Several more rounds later, I was up a serious chunk of change, and then the prince wanted to win his money back - so he started raising the stakes. If a baby's going to offer you candy, there's no shame in taking it. We eventually ante'd up for a million each, and I worked it quite nicely into a win. Then we called a brief halt while discussing stakes for the last game. Turned out the mining company I bought was worth about 25 million, which pretty well matched up with a marina, a hotel, and a factory - all in Beirut. While we were discussing, I noticed a reptile in a hoodie had snugged up to a corner. Unfortunately I couldn't shoot the fucker, as much as every instinct I had said to do so. There was cards to play.

It was possibly the only time that night I sweated one out; this was a hell of an in for me. Diversification and a three-part hook for the Harbor. Hotel/safehouse, Factory/bolthole, and a marina to get the people en route. What's not to love about this? My lawyer is going to have a happy face when I call him. Finally a little win was mine and we all cashed out. The hotelier gave me her hotel key - I think she wanted to win her hotel back in a private game of hide-the-pickle. I think I can come to a better arrangement. The Saudi was pissed, probably because he's a lousy card player and nobody's told him. The Japanese guy, I like him. Definite respect going both ways there.

Good thing too, because 1) the snake was making me twitchy and 2) nobody had a Millenium Falcon to play for. As we were exiting, I called up Cass on the mental phone and let her know what was up. The Setite was good in a way I haven't seen for awhile, and backup was needed. From the tone of Cass, she was not happy at the intrusion. I'm pretty sure cockblocking a Prince isn't strictly a violation of the Traditions, but at the same time it wasn't going to win me any friends.

Unless I gave them something worthy - to wit, a bigass snake who was freaking good at hiding. He was as good at hiding as I was at seeking. Looking and seeing everything, we slipped into the kitchen and found he was trying to go out through the sewer. Good times were had by all as the slippery fucker managed to not get caught by me but got caught by Cass. I had to yank her out, and then the little bastard bit her. There was some shooting for which I will not apologize - it's the wheelhouse, he was in a pipe, and I couldn't exactly dominate him into not moving. Finally we crocked him and advised the kitchen staff that there was a gas explosion. Well, the Prince did anyway. We stood watch at the door while Frau Ott came in (I swear she was trailing frost) and took possession of an 8-foot hellbeast python. Cass had a bite on her neck that was far from the one she wanted, and she was muttering dark dark things. I may want to not tick her off for a night or two.

That said, time to think about what I'm doing with the stuff. I think I'm going to make an arrangement with the people. I'll take the marina, and then we'll make some additions to the hotel. The factory can become a straightup bolthole. We'll have to talk to some people about retaining their contracts for a transitional period. The hotel I may be kind to, because I think she may have overextended herself. We'll do some business.

Sometimes, it's good to be me.

Undead Action Hero

So the plan - I must emphasize that it was a plan - was to get dressed up nicely, take Tina out amongst a horde of politicians who haven't figured out that inviting Turkey into the EU is a semi-elegant solution to the war problem. At least until Greece and Turkey find something new to fight about. Figure that'll take about 3 to 5 weeks. Which, to be honest, that buys me enough time to get things in Beirut settled and be back on Serenity to chill my ass out while we fly into Baghdad for a long talk with Pops.

As all plans, it survived for a little while. Note to self - make sure Tina has a stylist; this may take becoming more friendly with the Toreador back home, but that's doable. Either way, whatever the hell incantations they did with her hair made it so awesome that if I would have been breathing my first two thoughts would have been "I want" and immediately followed by "out of my league". And directly below that was a terribly slinky dress. I'm so glad I have money to buy her a slinky dress. That said, if I was thinking she was hot, damn straight the old duffers were thinking it. Even if they knew it was a total play to get them to listen for more than a minute to the Turkish plan, it would give them an excuse for their mistress later. I was properly attired in black tux with green accents, black silk hair sleeve, and emerald cufflinks. Because Rio, man.

While I was standing there in admiration, my oh-shit radar went off at about level "prepare thyself". Pistol and ammo came out, and I started making my way through the house. The majordomo wasn't around, which is truly odd - the man is like, totally in the shadows and always no less than 5 seconds from "What would you like this evening sir". Heading up a flight of stairs like a ponytailed James Bond, I saw the security team doing a slo-mo run. Cass is not that whimsical, so again, the majordomos' presence was requested. Finally I found him on the balcony, doing a thing like he'd been hit with a Cass Trick. Fuck a doodle doo. Next stop was to say hello to everyone and confirm locations. Nothing from Cass. That was disconcerting as all get-out, but whatwas more disconcerting was her suite once we got there. on the way, I could see Cass' blood on the stairs, and I could smell it. You hang out with someone long enough, you know what they smell like.

The suite itself was redone in Early Trainwreck, courtesy of what looked like a man and a woman. Somehow, they'd convinced the door to turn to rust, stepped through, staked Cass, and left with her. That was enough for a call to Frau Ott. She sounded a bit snippy, like I was intruding on her timed-to-the-second plan. After advising her of what was what, whatever plans she had for the night changed, and she was hauling ass.

After a little investigation, we were apprised that not only had cass been staked by Vlad and Sara, we were told where the secret exit was, since that was where they were going. Tina went to her room and changed from formal wear to Combat-ready. All I really had time to do was toss on some body armor and grab a spare pistol, but Tina came up with a spare M4 and clips. Childer are so thoughtful sometimes. Thusly prepped, we went forth to make a good shot at a rescue. Down to a crypt, secret button, and down some stairs to a long, thin corridor. Beautiful ambush spot. If I were being pursued through this, I would definitely take a few seconds to chuck a grenade.

Fortunately the folks we were pursuing were shit-outta grenades, which is fortunate in that they aren't as vindictive as me - that said, they were smart enough to recognize a damn fine ambush spot when they saw one and lit the place up with incendiaries. It was enough to wreck someones' night. My first real thought was run. The next thing I remember with clarity was me, Frau Ott, and Tina hiding behind a sarcophagus. With a little help from the beast, we'd covered a quarter mile in under 6 seconds. That stung, but my hair was still relatively neat and armor intact. The surprising thing was that Frau Ott was there. I mean admittedly, I had an internal bet with myself as to whether or not she'd show what the rest of us considered an emotion before we left, but I was not a fan of seeing it in this particular fashion.

Once we'd gotten our shit together, I got the links up and discovered that Brenda was in pursuit on foot, having wrecked their car. So awesome when she does that. Hugo was taking care of the wounded (still not sure why he went that route, but I'm pretty sure if he hadn't, we would have.) So we hauled ass to Frau Otts' up-armored Mercedes Hummvee (best way I can describe it, honestly) where she got to drive. And damn, can she drive.

Over the river and through the woods to deliver asskicking we went. I did manage what would have been for anyone else an unreal shot. Dead of night, couple hundred yards, no thermal imaging or scope, and I popped Sara in the back. For those of you who protest it's not cricket to shoot a woman in the back, I can only counter that they'd tried to set us on fire after staking and kidnapping Cass. Those action indicated they were playing for keepsies, and it was incumbent on us to behave appropriately. And that means I shot the bitch in the back without even a little guilt. Honestly, the only thing we were lacking was Ride of the Valkyries or AC/DC. I seriously doubted Frau Ott would be down with either of those options, even if I had them on my Phone. So only roaring engine was our companion.

After that it got hectic, With Frau Ott telling me to shoot them when I didn't even know relative positions, much less have a chance at a clean look at a shot. Ordinarily I'da asked if she wanted me to use the Force or what, but this was not the joking time or the joking person. A good comic knows his audience. Finally we got to a farmhouse, and caught up with Brenda and the Time-Twister Pair with panache, and thus did we exit guns ready. And we looked out just in time to see a wagon wheel (they still have those!?) hurtling toward us like Satans' Frisbee. Tina and I ducked, Frau Ott not so much. That didn't bode well, but the odds were a little on our side. Everyone knew it, so they decided to stack the odds. Sara did a "stop in the name of love" move, I racked off a few shots at her because I felt no love, one hit and then a headshot that killed the doorjamb - I didn't quite have time to get the silencer going, mainly because I was going to need the blood for last-ditch measures.

Then I was moving...like molasses. The air got solidish around me, that's all I can say. I cranked Celerity to basically just keep pace with the world, and that wasn't nearly the fun ride I thought it would be. Vladislav was using Presence like the master he was - I decided Sara was an easier target. Sara had gotten behind the wall and wasn't moving - later I found out Brenda had kicked the Army of Darkness out to hold her still. At the time, I didn't complain. I could see well enough to guess where she was, and I remembered that a Fancy Miss was still a Miss. Centered, shot repeatedly, and was rewarded with a deader-than-shit house siding and a meaty thump of hits. At least I think that's what it was (firefights are loud, people.) Peripherally, I saw Vlads' head suddenly get endotted with an absolute picture perfect headshot from Tina. I do believe I said "Nice shot, dear". (Side note: that was twice in one night I called her that. We may have to talk about this and the possibility of it getting awkward.) Then out of the corner of my eye I see Tina doing something interesting. She'd cut her wrist and dropped a bullet into it before racking it back into the chamber. My childe is brilliant when it comes to playing for keeps, but she had a misfire and a resultant curse.

My turn - the backup pistol got a round off, then I was able to swap back to my Friendly Neighborhood Assault Rifle. During this, I saw Vladislav getting old...and his hand disintegrated like he was destroying himself. He needed help with that, I was helpful, and he turned into dust. Which is really kind of scary - here he was, an animated asskicking machine, and then in the span of 30 seconds he was ash. Let that be a lesson to us all, really - don't think you're invincible, because you're not. And so, with another quick (relatively) move into the dining area, we found that Sara had similarly met with her demise. Brenda was apparently not moving slowly, but once the combat din had faded I could hear three rabbity heartbeats from the second floor. I suppose that'll happen when there's a firefight preceded by an instant Mercedes convertible on your front lawn. Brenda was going upstairs for a bite and I reminded her that she'd already picked up a happy meal on the way (side note: EWW.) There was conversation, and I stalled enough for one of them to get out, but not the other. The other was apparently too much of a fan of wurst and bier. Dammitall. At least she didn't kill him. About that time Dalibor arrived and was suitably impressed by what we'd done, even at quarter-speed. Frau Ott, unfortunately, got triphammered and was effectively frozen. When your mom says your face'll freeze like that, sometimes she's serious.

Finally we got re-situated at the castle, chaos and crisis were done...and I still had that damn party to go to. At least my cufflinks were salvageable, but the rest of the tux was a mess. Once we got back, we got the bad news. Cass is in a place filled with snakes. This is not going to end well - I wonder what Frau Ott is going to make of my shopping list for tomorrow night. If I'm doing an assault, I'm doing it properly. That means about 50 paintballs wherein the paint has been replaced by one of the more poisonous substances known - my blood. Additionally, an illegally modified paintball gun is going to be in order, because if I'm shooting paintballs filled with my own blood, I don't want that shit to tickle when it hits.

Prep for destruction

So with the bad news to work with, we had things to do - I called up the majordomo and requested some rounds for conversion. One of the security guys and I had a grand time playing with the hand-load equipment. And after some observation, it looked like it was going pretty well, even though I had to party with a few Blood Dolls to keep the edge out. But in the end I have one clip of bullets that will give anyone they hit a bad day. We'll call those Haqims' Private Reserve.

After that, it was time for the doldrums of work - request list put in for a brown armored trenchcoat with straps for holding several spare weapons and ammo pouches along with the standard sets of "off to kill" stuff gear. We're going to need flares. Note to self, mirror up the combat goggles. I have absolutely 0 desire to be dominated.

So with that done, or at least in process, we settled down to wait for information. Which was delivered in due course, and got kicked up the chain. Yes, I was on hold waiting for the prince. Eventually we got the message across that we knew whereish Cass was. he was en route shortly. Unfortunately, Brenda's methodology leaves something to be desired in the total lack of GPS coordinates. So Hugo had to run out and get...snakes, apparently, while Brenda was doing her whacked out voodoo on a ceramic crocodile. So while she was doing her gig, the Prince and I played chess. I was trounced repeatedly - the princes' styles were archaic as shit, which did not sit well with my normally unorthodox style of "let the opponent take pieces and then sally forth once the board has maneuvering room". At the end of it all, it was 8 for the prince, 1 for me, and 1 stalemate. Overall, I'll stick to playing cards.

Finally, Hugo remembered another unpursued avenue, his hoochie. He called, they had a quick chat, he made up some kind of story and she agreed to meet him for a late night tete-a-tete. Given we'd already lost Cass, I thought it might be a good idea for me and Tina to tag along and listen in. And on the way, have our own little time for discussing things.

Listening to Hugo get dissed by his hoochies' sister was worth the price of admission alone. Seriously, the kid is good at what he does, but he runs his mouth a lot. I suppose it comes with the blood, and eventually he'll grow out of it and/or learn some social graces, but for now he is soooo not going to Elysium. If Dresden Barbie can make him stammery and awkward, the pros will have him losing his goddamn mind. He finally got to talk to...Liesel, and they talked about something - it was a little hard to catch, honestly, but it ended with them slipping around the corner and doing the no-pants dance. I had to snicker a little at that, because he is just...awkward. They went back after an appropriate amount of time. Liesel left to clean up a bit, which left Hugo with Barbie and Ken (okay Hans, but who really worries about stuff like that?) with Barbie apparently doing the "don't hurt my sister you dirtbag" schtick and really trying to...on the one hand protect her sister, but on the other hand I think she's more comfortable with her sister being second place or something. All in all what I could catch made me amused. Finally Barbie left the table for some reason - the cacophony in the place made it hard to see why. But Hugo finally had his smile on, so I'm pretty sure that he had something to do with it. A quick meetup later, and we found out that the next meeting is tomorrow at midnight. We may be able to swing that, so we began to return posthaste to the castle to deliver information and start realtime planning.

On the way back though, things got less complicated - I got a text from Cass. She'd managed to get unstaked and was a couple blocks from the princes' digs, where she would be. A quick telepathic verification that it was in fact Cass who sent that, and the driver was told to turn our asses around and get enroute to the castle. Information was duly passed around, but I didn't telepathically connect with the Prince directly. I shy from such things, because, well...somehow I don't think he would be comfortable with an Assamite talking to his head. But we did head back to the main digs in the middle of town for Cass recovery. She was in fact a little miffed that we forgot to unstake her after we made Zalenkas go buhbye, but in my defense, I didn't think she was really going anywhere - also, there was Brenda-corralling to be done. Although I don't think I could really argue the point too vigorously, as she looked like she'd just gone 12 rounds with a bear. Note for future reference, unstake your friends first, argue with your other friends later. Also, she'd escaped with a black box which she was trying to not call attention to. Hugo called attention to it. Le sigh. "The boy has no patience", as Yoda spake. I briefly considered silencing him, but I couldn't do that without casting the whole room into mute. Fuckberries. I settled with an elbow to the ribs.

Having gathered ourselves, and Cass powerhealing through the night, there was a discussion of me being hired to commit assault and battery upon the setites. My fee for such things has not changed - they kidnapped Cass, caused havoc and unrest, and have generally ruffled my jimmies. In these instances, I'm in for a quarter. It's the principle of the thing - if you're hired, there has to be an exchange. The fact that the exchange is pathetically small compared to my skillset doesn't particularly matter. Also, building goodwill with the powerset of Dresden will assist mightily in the future.

That settled, we went into planning mode. I had a few hours, so I projected to the place Cass described. It's about the size of a football field, with nooks, crannies, and other assorted traps that are utterly lethal. Not good, but it's better to know it's not good then to think this'll be a cakewalk. Adding concussion grenades to the list, I think I can set the traps off with those. Once I got back to my body, everyone huddled into my room, where Cass Finally revealed the exact specifics of how she got out. It was a Lasombra, or someone else with a shit-ton of Obtenebration. She owes "Mr Schwarz" a small favor for yanking the stake out and other assistance, but that's a side thing for her. he crafted her armor, and a blade, and Haqim let me know who this guy is so I can not get on his bad side. That said, he knows us....well. The box contained little presents for all of us - for me, it was a hundred rounds of ammo that had micro-runes on them. From what Brenda was able to figure, the rounds are specifically enchanted against...well, every supernatural creature that there is. There's a voice in the back of my head thinking there'll be an invoice coming for this later, and it will not be at a good time. But this person knows our real names, and our motivations - Hugo got himself a ring, and Brenda got a suitably creepyass book - I know human-skin vellum when I smell it. Cass got an oversized monocle, which isn't too concerning. Overall, I'm not quite at ease with people knowing us - if they know this, what else do they know? The other oddness was that Cass, at the end of the night, decided to bunk with me. And needed a nightlight.

The next night was a slow start, as Cass was already awake when I was rolling out of bed. The dreams I had were amorphous and prophecy-filled, as they came to me. Loss, terrible loss of some kind is in the offing when we go into the temple. Whether that's an old friend gone awry, or someone in the coterie meeting their end has yet to be seen. But the waking up later was different, since we normally arise at the same time. Battle takes a toll on us all, and for the humanist, that is a serious one. I don't feel bad about killing Sara, frankly. They had to know the risks when they firebombed the exit. The only thing I can really do at this point is focus on the future and accept what has happened. Tina similarly arose later, and I think it put a harder hit on her as well. There's something to be concerned about. She's never been an early riser to begin with - I'll need to seek guidance on how to restore what we've lost or track down a road that will suit us. Given the choice, I distinctly prefer a humanist path, as it allows me connection. That said, is that what is right for Tina.

Setting those concerns aside for the moment, battle plans and a holographic table. I added what I'd found out, which was good, but we really need something more. Proposal. We'll need to establish a beach-head. Fuel-air explosives should help there, as it'll kick out at least a few of the hundreds of snakes there. A point of concern is their fridge, it's got about 20 people there. Bringing our own blood supply is paramount. More armor for Tina. Period. And then we can find out what happens next.

I still have a bad feeling about this.

Mighty Fine Shindig

One thing that arrived for me after landing was an invitation to a holiday party of some minor piece or another at the Czech Consulate - not exactly a big thing; I mean a Brazilian billionaire hits your town, you send an invitation to a party apparently. The reason for the party was really secondary, but the hook was there - getting in on a political solution to this extended war between Greece and Turkey.

So suitably attired, Tina and I found ourselves in a showroom new armored limo with multiple security guards - two of which had guns for me and Tina, with instructions to toss if/when the shit got real. That was an issue right away, as we had to pass through a few levels of security and the guns were spotted. Criminy. 20 minutes later, we finally got them to come through with us. That said, the security that was already there was impressive. Diplomats and billionaires rate protection. Tina was whisked away to enjoy some art recital or another, while I went with the menfolk to socialize and have a drink and a cigar. The cigars were nice, the booze was top shelf, and the host was genial and pleasant. There were generally three groups. The older duffers (honestly, they were about my age) playing billiards, slightly younger guys watching, and the youngest of the bunch who looked bored and were ogling the barmaid and swapping lies about how much pussy they were going to get. Myself and the host make light conversation about what brought me here, with a few probing questions to see about how long I'd be in town.

Then came the first minor surprise of the night; the hotelier who'd gotten herself taken to the cleaners a few nights ago courtesy of moi. I'd done some quick research on her, and found out that she was a widower. Technically. Her 4th husband was an 80-something guy who'd died with a smile on his face and a chain of hotels, which was where her wealth came from. The Merry Widow had apparently done research on me after our card game as well, and was pressing for Husband #5 to be someone who looked like me, talked like me, and in all probability was me. I deferred, however there was a discussion of mutual beneficial partnerships which left just enough there to let her think she had a shot at marrying and subsequently outliving me. Shyeah right. She did however gather a crowd by extolling my virtue at cards which caused some of the younger ones to take pause and appraise the situation.

I was rescued by our generous hostess, who announced that dinner was ready, and that we should proceed. We were slow-walked to the dining room, while milady made small talk and squirreled a bit of info out of me about how we were going to be there, who we'd met, and if her husband had tried to put any moves on me. That last one, I'll admit, brought me up a bit short. I didn't think we knew each other that well. She had a nice smile, and then led us all to the dining room, where I faced a most ancient and hated foe, one that I had not faced in decades.

A 7-course meal.

Don't get me wrong, it smelled divine. But it was food, and not the kind of food I liked. Tina was similarly unenthused by the prospect, but we seated and made our way through outstanding cuisine. The only course that really tripped me up was the soup. Some kind of Hungarian goulash that I think they served to the peasants as punishment for their sins or something. I damn near horked that up, but the hostess was gracious enough to replace that with a clearer chicken soup. Meanwhile, kept up a link with Tina, and she was gaming through. Also, the host had his hand discretely wandering up Tinas' leg, while the good hostess was busy playing footsie with me. Finally I grunged through dessert - chocolate mousse that felt hideous going down, and we rapidly excused ourselves to the ladies room, ostensibly so we could work our passion. In reality it was so I could toss up a cone of silence while we spent a good 20 minutes heaving our chow into the toilet. On the whole, the prospect of a temple of snakes is less worrisome. After that, we mussed ourselves just enough so that everyone would know what we'd been up to in the ladies' room for so long, and retired again to our separate entertainment areas.

Also of note during this time was a little exchange of amusement. The consul and his wife are rather comfortably open in their marriage - I'm pretty sure they were playing rock-paper-scissors-lizard-Spock to see who got first dibs on each of us. Tina, however, is still a little uptight about such things. I mentioned the possibility of a foursome and she all but blushed. Also, one thing to also consider is what Tina is to me for the purposes of public functions - mainly so we can keep our stories straight. I suppose I could do worse then having 3 mistresses; and really that would be the best way to explain being in one place with Tina, another place with Cass, and a third place with Brenda. Also, genius billionaire playboy philanthropist.

There was a bit more mingling after that, with me taking a few hundred Euro from some of the younger drunk bucks - one of them got ticked and tried to start a fight, but his father was gracious enough to intervene. I slipped about half of what I'd taken in the old mans' pocket (about 500) as a show of kindness - Seriously, I won 75 million in stuff and few more million in cash less then a week before. These guys, I'm playing with stakes lower than my couch-cushion change.

After more mingling which saw the host and Tina disappear for a delightful time, we discussed politics. The war was a subject of discussion at the dinner table briefly - no few of the youngest at the table are going to head off to one front or another as lieutenants, and hopefully to come back alive. I did make my thoughts on the subject known, but not vociferously. Brazil does have a military tradition, but compared to Europe it's...quaint. That said peace is preferable to war on the whole, but an accounting of the groups to be appeased is rather...daunting.

The Caliphate's going to be the hard one - they've been funneling money and arms to support Turkey as their vision of an extended Muslim empire. The EU and the Chinese may be easier to convince, as they're funneling in just enough to keep the war going. Quite frankly, I've seen some of the weapons - I could do better blitzed out on rum. I think I have, in point of fact. If I were less moral, I could pick a side and win, or play both sides and make bank. Pirates; I can't officially address their concerns, but they've recycled enough sunken ships and sailors that they are a faction to concern with. Of interest is that ships flying the Venetian flag along with the Italian one are unharmed by pirates. Intriguing. All these moving parts are going to make for an interesting few nights.

During the discussion, I may have impressed the Consul, as he offered an invitation to a smaller gathering at a later date, and said I could attend a conference in Berlin in about a month in his stead. There's already going to be a Czech ambassador there, so a consul would be unnecessary. Invite gratefully accepted - I can rock with that.

Once that was done, I got back to the palace for a quick sit-down with the Prince about Berlin and it's denizens. Welcome to Byzantine politics. A city with 2 princes who dislike each other, 2 courts, and about 20 bürgermeisters who are effectively princes in their own little areas. Fortunately, he has a "nephew" who can let us crash at his pad for the week of the conference. The real trick is going to be making sure both Princes know I haven't been hired by the other to kill them. The glacial pace of vampire politics is such that they're just now probably starting to consider reunification of the city when in the minds of the mortals, The Wall is a piece of history.

Still, eyes on the prize. Bringing Turkey into the EU as a buffer zone between the Caliphate and the EU is going to be an intriguing nut to crack. Perhaps the route to go is guarantee the Caliphate a religious authority, and then have the EU act as secular authority. The spit of land this whole war started over would revert to a neutral province of the EU, and the other territories can be equitably distributed.

If I pull this off...the world may take notice.

Big Damn Heroes

So after I got back from that wreck, I was off to go to war with the Setites. Good times. While I was happy snoozing the day away, the little gnomes were hard at work, so that when I and the rest of the group awoke, we had ourselves a nice stretch and then we headed to the riverbank to get cheered, feared, and geared.

Mad props to German efficiency. They had everything the budding warrior needed in any century. I kid you not, there were swords, guns, body armor in all the colors of the rainbow, crates of ammo...Christmas had come early for the Assamite. Admittedly they were tilted toward the German stuff, which was expected, but let's not kid ourselves - they are innovators when it comes to the bullet-launching mechanisms.

Fortunately I packed my eye protection, and my favorite pistol was already chambered and hot. So then it was on to the rest of the gear. Dragonskin body armor (Don't knock it, the scales and side protection are beautiful,) knee pads, 2 spare pistols with a nice chunk of spare ammo in the pouches, our old friend Riot Action Shotgun - now with a grenade launcher underneath. With all due respect to Mssr Jackson, when you absolutely positively got to kill every motherfucker in the room, you chuck grenades and accept no substitutes. Last but not least, a nice brown trenchcoat. Because if you're killing, you should do it with style.

Now with everything I had, it was highly improbable that I'd run out of ammo, but just in case, there was a brief discussion of melee. Given that I've swung a few improvised weapons, but I haven't had any formal training, I went with a nice Scandahoovian Neck-parter of an axe. Look, when your oldest traceable ancestor is King Svidri of Norway, you give props. Although you don't mention it in public, on the off chance someone in the room met him and declares His Highness was a total dick. Also, axes are a basic melee weapon, so I can use it nicely. Finally, a little micro-fridge with a grip of blood in it for us just in case.

That done, I flipped to mp3 mode and started kicking up the jams with my boy Little Richard. We gonna have some fun tonight. Now in the midst of all this is the Prince looking like he stepped from the cover of Ye Olde Swordse and Shieldse scroll. I shit you not, full plate, full helm and a shield with the Medieval Brujah sigil on it. Well, as long as he's comfy with it. Me and Tina are kicking it Modern Soldier style, Hugo's looking like an eclectic piece - it's like sometimes he doesn't know what he wants, so he grabs a little bit of everything. Have to teach him to play to his strengths. If we survive, I will. Brenda's got her ninja thing rolling strong. Overall, we make a spiffy crew.

The Prince commences with a speech. Epic. Seriously, the only way he could have made it better would have been by channeling Uncle Herb and saying "Tonight - we are da greatest hockey team in da worlt." Afterwards...I felt pumped. And I was. Seriously, I felt pumped. After that, he brought in a purple robed crazy named Anatole. Apparently he was a priest and was there to take confession. We did not have that much time - God and I long ago agreed to disagree. Maybe someday when I've got a week, I'll chat the guy up. Now Cass on the other hand actually took him up on it and spent about 20 minutes talking about the time she kicked me for being a smartass, or something.

Final preps and confirmations, waterproofing a few things and prepping to evict some scaly bastards from Dresden. That in mind we slogged along the bottom of the river to the entrance. (In the event of a water landing, I am not a flotation device.) The prince rolled first, I ran second in line since I see all, and then behind us was the rest of the group. Coming up to our insert point, I did not feel comfortable at all. Enough that I reached out to the Prince and waved off. I've learned to listen to my Bad Things Alert, and in this case it made sense. They knew Cass had escaped, they knew which way she went, and if I was prepping a defense, I'd make this section explodey and bad. Since I'm not the only smart person on the planet, I'm pretty sure they did what I'd do. It took a few seconds to convince the Prince of this, and then Cass (Now sporting a serious pair of glowing eyes? Where the hell did she get those) chips in and gives us an alternate entrance. The sewers. Of course. Because the Rio sewer wasn't enough of an experience in gross and disgusting.

This is one of many reasons why God and I have agreed to disagree.

At least this time the sewage didn't get above knee height, but still, it's sewage. Cass points out our entry slot, and I see the glint of spikes. That's a ghoul-killing punji pit if ever I saw one, and it sure as hell wasn't going to tickle on me. Rappeling down was a relative snap. Once we settled ourselves, we found our direction and started moving. This is where being part bloodhound was handy, because our first piece of ick and gross was essentially a ballpit of people. Like...a thousand. Fortunately, I didn't retch. Hugo on the other hand had a gag moment. Brenda squee'ed. She tried to keep it to herself - she really did. Meanwhile, the rest of us traversed that shit fairly well. Behind us were about 20 ghouls who were probably fairly badass, and protecting the Prince muchly. After that little traverse, we took a look forward, and I heard something stretching, like plastic. Flipped my light up, and I saw plastic bags all over. And a tracer round heading for them. Alert sounded and I found a crevice to hide in just fast enough to duck flaming napalm.

Once again, these folks are playing for keepsies. So are we, and I got my ass out of the crack and batted out the flames threatening to make Hugo sad. Meanwhile, there's three emplacements opening fire. That's gonna make us sad quickly, and honestly, the fire rates just sounded off somehow. But it's a data point that's filed for later consideration as we're currently in the midst of some shit. After that, it was chaos quickly. The Prince raced forward, basically sacking one of the emplacements for a huge loss; meanwhile Brenda and Cass were hucking grenades at the other emplacements. I felt a little squee inside, and felt pretty good.

And then Hugo stepped on a mine. My brain once again went to weirdness as the mine was a bouncing betty. As in something that got a premiere in World War 2 and was a thing up until the US Army decided that the Claymore would do a better job. Seriously, it's like they stopped picking up new gear. This is an advantage, but I'm not sure how just yet. That said, the actual chore of navigating a goddamn minefield is still ahead of us. I had to actually pause for a couple seconds to figure out where they planted them. Again, old-school. Finally, traispe through that and point them out quickly, because someone's gotta support the prince who is currently holding his own against 4 guys. One of whom appears to have a bazooka ready to fire, and the Sturmtruppen look crystallizes it all. These guys are old ghouls, like, from World War 2. Like me and the Prince, we're comfy with our era. I tried to cap Bazooka Joe but...not quite enough - He got the shot off and utterly killed the Princes' shield, and well, basically nuked himself. Checking out the emplacements briefly while we had a few minutes to gather our asses and observe the last little bit of intriguing is the water cooled machine gun. For real, this is shit that I would repurpose to furniture if I had it, because it's not useful for the purpose. Meanwhile, a few people game forward with a spare shield and knocked out the bazooka-dents in the Princes' armor.

Apparently one of the benefits of being a Prince is that you get a pit crew.

That said, we sorted and apparently Hugo found his leg and was walking, courtesy of Breda and some blood work. Hallelujah, we don't need him to pull back. More moving forward, and there's...creepville. Brenda actually paused at a place and started one of her things which...damn. Was going to take awhile, but there was a detail left for her. Good news there, but we had things to kill. And we started with massive aplomb - me and the prince came into an antechamber and went for the snake moving around in the sand. Finally it popped up and the prince and it did massive battle. I popped it three times, which apparently did it dirty, meanwhile Tina did awesome with her pattern. And then the damn thing (Which the intel said was Apep) decided to run like a bitch. I think I'm going to reach out and offer it a quick death.

What fools these (im)mortals be!

Slight change of plans, as we did a headcount and realized that bad karma was well and truly riding shotgun. The prince was convulsing, and Hug was trying to syringe the poison out; which was not good because he wasn't getting it all. Meanwhile, I got Frau Ott on the headhorn and gave her a quick update. She was busy (weren't we all?) but I was brief. Back to the job at hand, snake killing. Tried to get Brenda up...no response. Not good, so we backtracked to investigate. Looking at the scene was not pretty. It looked like Order 66 (may Lucas eat ashes and piss glass dust for eternity) had just been launched, with Brenda catching a ton of lead in the back and then dragged toward a cave - overall not pretty. Toss a chemlight to mark the area and then back to the main group for further consultation, as the plan has officially gone to shit by now.

Sadly I came back to a trainwreck. One of the princes' guards was getting chewed on by a snake, which was utterly gross to see. Being that the standing orders were to shoot all snakes I rather quickly proceeded to do that. Massively beautiful ambush shot to the head, and I was thrilled. But a guard was doing a slo-mo "noooooooo" which was concerning, but since the fight was joined I was in it to win it. Which was a great plan but the fucker dodged my second shot (!) and then I just went center on the third. All well and good, right? I mean he couldn't dodge all that and still have enough juice to make my life crap, right?

So wrong. So very, very wrong. The thing reared, latched itself onto my shoulder, ragdolled me a couple times and then threw me against something amazingly solid, I never actually found out what because that was where the lights went out.

The lights came back on after an undetermined point of time, but I had apparently drank far too much rum. Whata-zee-fucka. Somewhere along the line I'd become Jack, I was onboard a ship called the Admirals' Revenge docked in London. My spiffy pistols were gone, replace by some seriously archaic hand-tooled cap-and-ball shit that was in the 50 caliber range. Also, I was apparently some manner of privateer. With a brown coat.

This sorta time warp shit is getting old. First things first, find out with some certainty when and where I are. I bought a broadsheet for a couple pence to get the news of the day and...I had to lean in to read it in the dark. That's annoying, frankly - I hadn't had to do that in a decade or so; but it's one of the adjustments that had to be made. sigh. But after reading closely, it appeared to be 1555. Other questions could wait, I had to check the potables of the age. Apparently Jack was a well known man, as when I walked into the White Boar I was well greeted and suddenly had a wench planting my face in her ample cleavage.

God save the Queen.

And then I inhaled and remembered that soap was not a thing. That definitely took a lot of the awesome out of this time period. Still, the booze was cheap and after an extended absence, me and rum reacquainted ourselves. Quality control was a nonexistent thing. Again, something to work on if I was going to be there for awhile. Still, when you haven't had something for awhile, even bad is pretty damn good. Having dropped ourselves some libations, we decided it would be a good thing to go to the Globe. Which turned out to be a theater playing some new thing by Shakespeare, Midsummer Nights' Dream. First bit of suck, me and the shore party had to wait. Apparently privateers were commoners. Well, hell. I suppose I could offer profound arguments as to how uncommon I was, but what the hell. How many times do you get to see first run from The Bard? I know people who would give vital body parts - so a slog through Londons' muck wasn't exactly a thing.

The play was more awesome then I could have believed. Historical bits; the theater was far more interactive back in they day - the crowd would chirp the actors, the actors would chirp back, and the run time was slightly extended by a refreshment break or 4. Ale-soaked Actors and actresses trying to remember their lines, forgetting, and ad-libbing some shit that was close, but not quite. I don't care what anyone says, I will remember it as "I have had a dream, past the tit of man to say what it was, now I shall sod off for another ale anon."

Now there was one break during intermission, I got a tug from an urchin wanting me to come outside because there was a man wanting to speak with me. I sent the urchin off to decline the offer, if the guy wanted to speak with me, he could damn well pay the admission and talk to me.

After the play, there was the urchin again, wanting to let me know that someone was upstairs wanting to talk with me. It wasn't like the afterparty was going to wind down any time soon, so I placed my bottle of rum where my face had been earlier - for safekeeping mind you. Nodded to William Shakespeare, headed up, and that's when things got a little more and less awkward. A rather dark form materialized when I went up there. Ah..Lasombra. All this time, and that trick still puts my ass on edge. The discussion we had was fruitful. I could stay here in Elizabethan London, live the life I dreamed, as I was in fact dreaming, or I could receive a favor from him in exchange for a favor later. He would awaken me torpor, and I'd get him back someday. I made sure killing wasn't on the table. I'm not sure if he was actually impressed with my bravado, but he did somewhat tempt me with the idea of being famous through history. Let's not kid ourselves, I tempted myself. The idea of seeing a sunrise again, eating my favorite foods, drinking, fighting and wenching my way into the history books flickered through my mind.

But no, I have a damned war to win. And also, the Setites are making a play, and they're apparently siding with the Giovanni to work as partners in bringing a little apocalypse to earth. Because fighting one clan would be too easy. So, me getting my real body mummified would suck to the point where I would have some serious dislike. I agreed and stepped into darkness. And a part of me is really, reallly going to miss the idea of seeing the sun again, but really..it would be a sun that I dreamed of. It would be fake in the end, just like everything I dreamed. Still. Tempting.

But back to my body, where I awaken to find I'm in a casket, with a stake rapidly rotting. Job one, my spine needed a minute to go from 1000-piece puzzle to actual vertebrae. As soon as I could, I started talking to people. Tina had lost her mind - she was staked; this is not promising. Brenda was similarly out of her head, but Hugo was responding. After telling that he'd handed me off to Frau Ott, and that was the last thing he saw of me, some things became clear. Frau Ott has flipped for some reason. Dalibor has not. I'm within 500 miles of Dresden, at least. And with some orders to pack up, I leave my body to figure out where I am. Again, my astral form is...a delight I almost don't do often enough. Going up, doesn't give me a good aerial look, so I go back down. And I catch enough street signs to make me think that I'm in Berlin, and that's confirmed when I go past the Reichstag. Seriously, I've seen that thing often enough in Call of Duty that I could probably walk through it without too much trouble. Back to my body, and let Hugo know that I'm in Berlin.

By this point, the stake is done and I can actually move. I crack the case and discover I'm in a hearse. Well that blows, I never expected to be like this. The idea briefly crosses my mind to ask the driver to pull over. But no, my inner Calvin needs to sit his ass down, because someone wants me captured - and me not being captured is high on my list. So, I wait until the hearse stops, and then bailing out the back. On the one hand, it'd be nice to know where bad person central is, but on the other hand, I can ghost into Berlin.

Taking stock - Dresden is a good fallback position. Everyone appears to be still on this side of the world, and in Berlin except for Hugo. Forward looking, someone wants us in Berlin as a jump point to somewhere else. We need to collect ourselves, and bring everything we can. That means Andre gets to hop a plane, and we're going to find a place to hole up and take a minute to refocus. Then, I've got to attend a conference, see if I can light a fire under some politicians, light a fire with some setites, and try not to make either of the two princes angry.

I doubt I'm gonna get my quarter.

Out of the German frying pan...

Clean up, and auf wiedersehen

Berlin was a mercifully brief stop. We were all able to, in our own way, get our asses in touch with Dalibor and finally get our shit back to Dresden. I will say this, I drive in style. Even when I'm in a weird city, no cash, cards, or cellphone, there's still a safety net. Admittedly, I could have made a net, but it's sometimes easier to get in the van headed for Dresden - particularly when the fan has a nice palm-locked casket in it, and Dalibor confirms he sent that shit. The bad news, long term, is now not only do we have to fight the Giovanni, it seems like the Setites have thrown in with them as well. Because why wouldn't a bunch of darkness loving vampires be okay with that. Eventually though, sitting at the left hand of the devil is going to get old. We're gonna avoid that day.

So that dusted, we recomposed our collective asses and spent a week cleaning out the sewer. Weirdly, there were some seriously not-fun people still there, but, I have sufficiently looted the joint. Guns going back to the house because I needed a new coffee table, and some non-setite but still nice-looking snakeskin for a pair of the most badass combat boots ever made. Best parts of this was Andre wrapping up the business side of things and joining us. Good times were had by all, and best of all, Dalibor and I are not only square for the Weimar wreck, he taught me the basics of Presence. That helps when you're rocking groups of people. Then at the party celebrating what looks to be a nice victory, I got a little happy and sipped the fae blood. Also, Frau Ott's passwords have been changed, and she is very much on the bad side of the power structure.

Not gonna lie, the dreams were awesome. Like riding a flying tiger over a rainbow with a horde of Viking warriors chanting unintelligible sounds of my badassery. Also, standing on a pyramid in sort of sun-god robes while a thousand naked women were screaming and throwing little pickles at me. Piracy was also a definite part of it. While reality lacks a soundtrack, my dreams were brought to you by the London Symphony Orchestra. And AC/DC.

Sadly, I woke up. With a warm severed head next to me. Because Brenda.

It took a few minutes to get my bearings, because I had a minute or two of screaming what the fuck, and why do I have an axe and who takes a retarded jackassed trophy like that. Finally calmed down and got the word. Apparently Brenda's received a spiffy ass skull, but it doesn't speak any modern languages. So...kinda like Bob, but not. And just when I thought necromancy couldn't get any more fucked up.

This is why I deal in computers, guns, and cards. That shit is weird and creepy.

Then, surprise number 2 came in the form of checking my messages. I slept through November. My hair was longer, my beard had grown...overall, it was an uneventful month which I really think we needed. But, back to business. To wit, heading to Berlin for a week while I attended a fairly lengthy set of conferences with the main bodies in the conflict. To me it's a little odd, but the Turkish delegation seems ready to deal - particularly since while I was napping, the Caliphate has been saber rattling to kick turkish ass. Fighting a war on two fronts has never been ideal, and I think the Turks could find themselves up shit creek rapidly. I think the broad strokes of the plan are in play, at least enough that the Turkish government is willing to listen to a plan that lets them save face, and more to the point save their own asses. The first thing the Caliphate would do is punt them out - not sure if they'd make a crew of martyrs, but I'm pretty sure everyone likes the idea of a buffer zone. Having done that, I got an invite for me and Tina to come talk to the Turks in the spring talks. Since I'm just a canny businessman, it's a little freer and we can be more honest in conversation.

That said, I smell the Jyhad in this - possibly a group of Assamites or something. That's going to make things tricky. More likely would be the Setites, but...damn. I'm gonna write an app to keep track of all the players. Not sure I want to, honestly. It'll just get depressing, especially with the data entry.

Finally, with that groundwork laid, I can take a good long look at my newest holdings in Beirut. Since planes are having a distrubingly poor track record, we trained it to Italy, and then caught a boat. Because why shouldn't we? Between Hugo, Cass, Tina, and Brenda, this is just a weird coterie - effective as hell, but nonetheless weird. The train ride was long. Pretty sure "Are we there yet" got old after 30 seconds, but...I still kept it up until Cass threatened to pitch me off.

I am secretly 5.

So we got there, hit the boat, and relaxed. I hit the casino up until a guy I know from the casinos (And whos' money fattened my wallet many a time) said "Do you know who this guy is!?" Suddenly, the casino emptied. Well, there went my entertainment options for the night. Back to the room to code and start working algorithms to figure out how to make for a peaceful world, quickly. Immediate plans; Beirut. Mid term plans, find out how to make friends among the clan and make for a Rio Harbor. Long term plans, blunt or destroy two clans. Good times.

And then someone attacked a boat a thousand yards off. Damn Piracy of the modern day. I could see bodies. Sometimes, auspex blows. The captain sent a couple boats, the survivors came back a little freaked, and we made flank speed to the nearest island, where we're laying over for the night. I was a little hungry, but I could hear voices. Clearly, going where are we, I can't see, help...CREEPY.

I talked a little, and then Velma and Shaggy went to investigate. I don't want to be here a minute longer than I need to. We did a quick dip into town, found a few couples from Portugal, and inviting them back to the cabin for caviar and champagne. Brenda was cranky when I tried mind-talking. But we are out of here at dawn, so she's not pulling another Weimar.

An Unexpected Layover

So, I was having a good night to start. Chilling out on the ship, enjoying all the benefits that being just that rich allows. Then the link between me and Brenda and Hugo went dead. Well, that brought the party to a screeching halt - I had to be as gentle as possible, business cards were proferred and an invitation to sleep over in Rio as long as they gave a few hours notice. And then we geared up and went to sally forth and figure out just what they were up to. Hopefully it wasn't bad.

So a few hours through town, and there's something tickling in the back of my head. It's like I should know this place. Thought gets shoveled to the back of my head, time to go find my compatriots (okay one really long term friend with a loose screw and an occasionally useful screwball) and see what manner of grief has befallen them. Finally find the place where they were, and like a gentleman, I knock. And wait. and wait. And seriously consider shooting the damn lock out, until finally I get a little hatch-door and some weirdass voice asking if I can help him.

The next sound I heard was half the panties in town hitting the ground. Mostly they were the geriatric panties, because not everyone knows Antonio Banderas. And this dude was pretty damn close. Ask if I can come in, and apparently that's not his call. So there's more waiting. Normally I'm not impatient, but through all this I'm hearing voices, dozens of them in multiple languages, pleading, asking, and overall freaking me the hell out. How many people are here?

Finally we're granted entry, and I explain the situation. It's not pretty. I can smell Hugo and Brenda hanging around. Their blood smells different, but they intermingled in a way I didn't find entirely thrilling. Brenda's, honestly smells like a fresh grave and old herbs. Hugo's smells like - it's hard to describe, like ozone and an illusionists' flash powder. The two before me smelled like lots and lots of death. Or maybe I was projecting. Took a seat, made polite introductions, and started making polite talk about my friends and wanting to take them off their hands. Unfortunately, we had to spend a day there. Dammitall what had they gotten on to. The idea of this ending well is quickly dropping off to the side.

So, that's going to necessitate a change of plans, so the butler-banderas lookalike (Germano is apparently his name) goes to the ship to collect our luggage. They really don't want us to leave. On the one hand, nice, but I'm not sure I like where the road is going. We'll have to take it for a day though. Sigh. So as guests of the Rosselini's (This makes me twitch) it's time to make the best of it. We're shown to our rooms that haven't been dusted since Omar Bradley drove through town, and it's time to twitch. Zombies, actual freakin classic zombies (Slow zombies, by the look. Let that fucking argument die already) come in, dust, and deliver the luggage. There's a small lightproof room and a nice divan so I can snooze the day away. Oh good. Call on Cass and Tina, and they're officially freaked the hell out. Which, yes, I am too but I have a good poker face. By an unspoken agreement, we all piled into my closet for the day. Seriously, after a few decades, you don't even have to ask. Creepy house, everyone piles into the same closet.

Next night, we're waking up slowly - honestly it took a few seconds to make all the connections work. Cass was freaked the hell out because breakfast has been delivered. Strapped in and scared and naked. Cass blankets them all nicely first (Civil Servants never die, they just get buried under the paperwork.) I sniff, don't notice any drugs, and take a few to replenish more fully. That's a nice relaxing time, so I find one of my walking around suits and dress. The mirror, however is reflecting my bad side - seriously the suit looked all moldering and my complexion was for shit. So I trust Tina to straighten my tie and I leave the ladies to dress while I head downstairs to speak with Rosura.

As interrogations go, it was pretty pleasant. She was still dressed like a penguin (okay a nun, but hey), and the zombies were gussying the place up for Christmas. Very odd, but the discussion turned to clan, and I 'reluctantly' admitted to being a Toreador. Hey I can fake it with the disciplines, and it's better than admitting to being an Assamite. It was interesting that she feigned ignorance of the New World (and Denver.) I did have to tell Tina we're Toreador though. During this, I heard Brenda finally mental-knock. Communication was rapidly established, and I learned that they had been on the wrong side of an asskicking, but they were coping relatively well.

But eventually Rosuras' gorilla brother (aka Baldesar) came to collect me and Hugo for a boys' night out. Relatively. Germano drove a carriage (!) to the seedier side of town. Finally things started to click during the conversation. We had hit Cagliari, which is one of the Giovanni...ghost-banks. That's why I'm hearing all the voices. Creepy creepy shit. And we're balls-deep in the middle of the web. Hugo didn't seem too much the worse for wear, and we had some mental communion. Apparently it's my fault he got his ass kicked. Old me would have shot him a few times, but...yeah. I admit to a part, but nobody told me what was going to be there. And he'll need to own a moment or two. So damned annoying but occasionally useful. Where we went was very...uncivil, but I can hold my nose. Gambling a little, but we're gambling on dog-versus a pack of rats. So damned...meh. It reminded me of the conversations at the princes plantation in New Orleans, but with extra dirt.

The Gorilla and I made conversation, I made a few bucks, and then I had an epiphany. Anything illicit in this town was going through here. The two vice cops (one dirty, one clean and not long for this world) were watching and reporting, and there was a little of everything. I need a submarine for one part of my plan. This would be as good a place as any. There's a couple marks, and life...could be good. Assuming they don't try to shank me for my watch.

So. Short version - annoyed that I have to keep Hugo on a leash, intrigued by a potential untapped army, and shit-scared that I'm dancing with ghost fire.

Did we do that?

So now, with a little purpose in my heart and some idea of what I was looking for, I headed for the knot of sailors who looked a little piratey and asked to see their leader. We exchanged pleasantries of the normal sort, he called me an infidel, I threatened to bury him with bacon, he declared swine to be unclean, etc. By way of greeting a cheap sub-machinegun was plugged to my temple and someone else decided poking me with a sword was a good plan. Oh look, the n00b's getting hazed. Who saw that coming? Me. So me and Hugo got shoveled over to a couple guys playing backgammon, a nice old wizard dude and someone who got on Gods' bad side and got beaten with the ugly stick. The shit I go through to get a sub. I showed my bank account, and dropped my walking around cash on the table as a show of faith. After that, apparently an additional show of faith was necessary, so they grabbed some random guy from the dog-fighting tables, gave me a gun and told me to shoot him.

I rather thought not, so I had to consider. There was some fast talking, and a slight touch of Dominate, and he was mollified. Also I had to sneak this under the underlings' radar, for whom this was basically an exchange of business cards. Fortunately the little schlub lived, and business continued. Finally we got down to the details, and he found what I wanted to be intriguing. I did get points for speaking fluent arabic, and so we dickered around a little bit and honestly we didn't haggle much - he's got expenses, and what I'm asking for is a premium. Contacts were discussed, communication was sorted (because of course I have a hotel in Beirut) and business was concluded. He was nice enough to give me a warning about Baldesar - he makes corpses. If he only knew.

Then I looked down and saw the listening device. Who would plant such a thing - obviously, we were beloved by the fuzz but it was a matter of who. Hugo and I went into the filthiest excuse for a bathroom in Italy, because I needed some me time with this thing. It was highend, planted by Interpol, and specifically planted by the guy I was kind enough to not shoot. Well, fuck. I left it there under the lid so whoever got the pleasure of listening to it heard all manner of bowel-churning goods. Leaving, there was a second one. It joined its' brother. So that out of the way, we found our new friend hanging out with Baldesar. So many scents assaulted my nostrils. BO, garlic, and fear. I clapped a nice extra-strong hand on his shoulder and invited him to come have a talk in the mens'. Given that his other options started with 'dislocated shoulder' he was inclined to acquiesce.

Once there, I showed him the bugs and asked politely if we might not appear in any report he would care to submit. He claimed ignorance, so I jogged his memory Sin City style. When the bubbles slowed down, I let him up and asked again what would be in his report, reminding him that I did kinda let him keep his brains in his brainpan. Not so much so back to kissing the "water" he went. After that he was agreeable to an edited report in service of the greater good. Shock, that. I patted his back and left. Once he realized he wasn't going to die, his next move was to barf and wash the crud from his goatee. He may be requesting reassignment, but I had other concerns.

Specifically, the fact that our little slice of Tortuga was getting raided by the cops. Shit. Look around for Baldesar, and there he be wading away from the cops to the back office. Next time, dumbass me is going to have an exit strategy. Hugo was blessedly helpful in generating a very believable terminator-esque dude who gave the cops something to gleefully shoot at while we exited through Baldesar chewing the shit out of a concrete wall with his claws. (Note to self, don't piss him off.) Once out in the alley, we were briefly accosted by two riot cops who were dispatched by Baldesar before I could even blink. He looked a little regretful at that, like he went into some autopilot thing. We all have our curses to bear, but we found our way to a brothel where the madam knew him and knew his money, but wasn't thrilled to see him. Me and Hugo were new and mostly polite, so we were able to get his collar off with a minimum of fuss, and trade some for our blood expenditures.

That done, we were taking our leave and I felt something in the world, and heard a soft tolling bell. Like a gathering of several thousand Vikings were pounding drums and declaring that unto this world a badass had been born - it started softly, but it was enough to make my giddy and scared at the same time. Baldesar heard it too, and his face went white and one word escaped - "No." I had a good idea that someone had unleashed the dead, and being here was a bad idea. To the roof we went as some kind of mist started covering the cobblestones. Baldesar indicated the mist was bad, and I was in no position to disagree.

My internal soundtrack had switched to Indiana Jones, as we needed to haul ass to our boat and ask if we could get on a bit early due to extenuating circumstances. The depth of the extenuation was made clear when the brothel started screaming. during this I was alternately awed and pissed at Baldesar - He made roofjumping look horribly easy, while I'm spending blood and just making it across. Off in the distance, the ship we booked passage on was discretioning its' way to sea rapidly. During this, I tried mindtapping Brenda, but she was out. Pretty good idea that she did the jailbreak, but I'm not sure what it cost her. I locked on to Cass, and she reported that Brenda and Tina were being carried by her to the docks, and I guided her to where we were. That done, we got everyone onto a yacht with about 15 seconds to spare, so I hit flank speed on the yacht and we were on our way - for 30 seconds, and then the mist killed the engine. (How it did this is a question answered by others with a more dead-things bent.) After that we...drifted for a few hours. Baldesar is shit-scared, and I think I know why.

Augustus is going to barf when he hears about this.

On a serious note, there's a shitton of ghosts who want Baldesars' ass on a platter, and I don't think the Giovanni reward this kind of thing. Once chaos no longer reigns, our stuff is going to be found, and we're going to be wanted. We may be able to squirrel out of this, but oh damn I think I know who the first passengers on my new sub are going to be. Also, it needs a name. Charles H Roan.

A more indepth analysis is needed. On the plus side, we can win this. Cagliari stands in mute testimony to that. On the down side, we may have blown our cover. We're going to need friends, and we're going to need them fast. Still, I think the train to Beirut will have a warm mood. What we just did for humanity is a measurable good, and it's our first real trophy in this conflict. Assuming a standard separation, the Giovanni soul-count just went down by 15-20%. Operation Jules is now evolving from theoretical to real.

Timeout in Tunis

So after we collectively got our shit straightened out, we started taking inventory of this yacht. It was a nice little 75-footer, with a couple odd things, sails and a backup generator, and a few other things. The navigation was jacked, the radio was hit or miss. But, it was 185 miles to Tunis, we had a full tank of gas, half a pack of cigarettes, it was dark, and we were wearing sunglasses.

Hit it.

We didn't quite make it, mainly because the engines were flaky (even with Hugo down there to watch over them. Dude is becoming more handier by the night) and I didn't want to go at flank speed all the way. We found a couple islands, but the largest one had a military base that was blacked out and there were no pictures of it, aerial or otherwise. I didn't need Auspex to tell me that dropping anchor there was a bad plan, so we made for a smaller island. No bases, no real...anything. So we laid up ourselves in a nice sheltered cove and took a day with painted windows. And I spent an hour debugging the damn systems on the ship so the GPS would work. I mean, it was functional to a point, but if I was going to depend on this, I needed reliability. Part of me wanted to toss the damn thing in the chipper-shredder, but the other option was dead reckoning with a sextant, and I didn't have that kind of time.

A secondary reason is this - it was a new experience for me. I mean, minimal communication with the world, water every-goddamn-where, it was...a majestic, spiritual kind of moment. Except for the part where Baldesar was having a psychotic giggle-break and the boat itself was flaky, it was a pretty serene time. Eventually Baldesar did pull his shit together and run up the sail, which gave us a little more fuel efficiency. So once we dropped anchor, it was a little housework to get everyone lightproofing and a nap was in order.

Odd dreams during the day - I was in some weird...beach scene. It was generally, nice. The next night was an interesting start, as Brenda was missing. I swear, I'm getting her a shock-collar when we travel. (Note to self, check with Tina about these. If we're sharing dreams or something, there may be a connection to some unknown elder.) Me and Baldesar tracked Brenda to a temple of some kind that was, well, ancient. Brenda was wearing some kind of Greek shift thing, with sandals. Neither of which she had when we were hauling ass. And, 7 of her hairs had turned raven black. Yes, my vision is that good why do you ask?

So one three hour tour later, our Minnow pulled into Tunis with a hiccup. We tied up went through customs rather easily, and then started bartering for a taxi. At that point Baldesar went all crazy alpha male and pretty much browbeat the drivers into a few dinars. Weird. I had a little background on Tunis, and Brenda all but ran into the night when she heard Carthage. Cass was kinda looking in the direction too. Meanwhile, I saw a guy eyeing us and did a "I see you" motion, which freaked him out. So he came over, we spoke, and suddenly we're brothers. Wadood and I spoke at length, meanwhile I'm getting weird looks. Finally Brenda says she's heading to Carthage, and Wadood has a conniption and says it's forbidden. He implores me to command her otherwise. Obviously, he had no idea about Brenda when she gets a thing in her head. Eventually we mollified him and found ourselves cabbing it to the Sultan.

I made a good impression, good enough that the Sultan loaned me a place. Then we...kicked back for a month. Christmas came and went, New Years went in the same way. I think we needed to get used to the multitude of prayers before venturing into the holy land. Nights were filled with conversation with a multitude of groups. The Lasombra of the city invited me to dinner, as did the Nosferatu. I kinda skipped the Nosferatu dinner invite, because I wasn't entirely certain if they were going to feed me or eat me. For real, those guys had a lean and hungry look hidden in their hideousness. I did have a good time betting on the ponies for a few weeks, as gambling is officially forbidden in Tunis - but just outside the city is a horse racing track run by Bedouins. Also I needed some time to get into my new name Jasham Al-Masood. Yes, I gave myself a name that translates to "The Eagle of Masood". Don't judge.

Brenda apparently did slink off to Carthage, as I think Cass did. I'm not going to begrudge them, they each had their reasons. Brenda because a site of that much death is like a moth to a bugzapper. Cass because it was Brujah central, and maybe she can see more of her bastard step-siblings before they fell to their current role as leatherclad punks.

Oh, christmas presents. It's good to be in Tunis for such a thing, as there's a lot of places that'll handcraft stuff; so a quick list here because I may forget. No sense in repeating presents too soon.

Brenda - a pair of silver goblets fashioned into the shape of human skulls. Ruby eyes. She may be disappointed that they're not real skulls. If she wants that, she'll have to dig 'em up herself.

Cass - Ivory crucifix with a christ-figure in white gold. Not the sturdiest of things, but hey, she did do confession in Dresden.

Hugo - Travel bag that'll pass any inspection; so he can put ill gotten gains and whatever secret things he doesn't want the fuzz to know about.

Tina - Arwens' tiara from Lord of the rings. (not the wedding one, that's just too gaudy and hard to wear.) Something to remind her of her humanity and remind her that the fight for our humanity isn't something we do alone.

Andre - A french saber. Gold basket, but a nice steel blade. Inscription: "Liberté, égalité, fraternité".

And then 5 days on a train to Beirut. It's surreal in some ways. Going to places and seeing things I've only googled. And a lot of stops at towns that have been around since the bible. There's a faint irony - as a Coloradan, being so proud of living in the Mile High City in the Centennial state, while we're walking in places that have borne the same name for 4 millenia or more. Eternal sands are a humbling thing, particularly as a vampire who can still find people in the retirement homes who are contemporaries. And among these sands are beings older than these towns.

Beirut in Style

Surveying the lands

Having arrived at the train station, I took a moment to survey. Beirut has definitely changed from what I saw on the breathing-days newscasts. Either that or the explodey-boom-boom stuff took precedence over what could easily be a slice of vibrant metropolis.

Once we were there, I ordered up an armored limo. Sure, we could have gone the pedicab or standard taxi route, but this was my first impression that I needed to make, and on the off chance that someone in Beirut was miffed at me enough to try and deliver me to the afterlife posthaste (hint: there probably is) I decided to shade the odds in my favor a touch. The ride was pleasant, uneventful, and gave me a good view of the city. It's picturesque. And Auspex helps.

That said, my late night arrival did not go unnoticed. A veritable army of management and higher-ups in the hotel were there to greet me. The plans for a discrete "Under new management" schpiel were promptly shot in the ass. Clovis, the head manager promptly introduced me to the departmental heads, gave me a nice expansive tour that let me soak in all the Art Deco style and well appointed awesomeness. Seriously, the foyer chairs are Rich Corinthian Leather. I think Cass might have been stunned into silence, because I'm pretty sure she still gauges most things in relation to her cop salary - and each chair would have run her about 3 months' wages.

We all have to cope in one way or another.

After meeting and smiling and gladhanding the department heads, finally we got up to the suite on the 4th floor with our own elevator. Phew. Baldesar and I had a quick confab in my office where he took his leave of us for his own digs in town. Apparently he hadn't been there in a few decades, and it was time to dust and reacquaint himself with the place. Clovis was hanging around showing me everything - I have a pool, sauna, and two offices. I have a ton of toys in my new toy. Honestly, I should be appreciative - basically I'm looking over the sum total of his lifes' work, and he wants to impress. Can't fault the man for that.

Messages were awaiting, a rose-soaked assault on my nose from Madalyn, inviting me to dinner later and then getting the final transfer paperwork, another from the Baroness of the city congratulating me on my new domain and granting me feeding rights within it and requesting my presence. Replies dictated and posted - We'll meet the Baroness tomorrow, and Madalyn the night after. Time to research a little and see what they're all after. Hopefully these new holdings can offset the expense of a nuclear sub. I suspect it may be a push. Although I am going to find out what exactly the Takenaka plant manufactures, but I may have to see about retooling or repurposing for naval use. No message From Prince Tawfeek though. I suspect he's still sulking.

I can, however, fault Brenda for grabbing a menu during all that and running up a 7-course meal tab. 5-star chefs wanted me to eat. Fuck. So we went through the rigamarole of eating and it was...good. Seriously delicious. I really don't remember food being this good, but then I never had a meal from a rock star of cuisine. Damn shame it was going to waste, but the wine flowed with it and made it easier. Perhaps even more surprising was that we all made it through midnight chow without a rush to the can. Not surprising was Brendas' dine-and-dash. That's enough to make my ass take a dip of snuff.

I needed a few hours to unwind and sober up a little, so Clovis proffered yet another menu - this one for entertainment. I was feeling odd - I think it was the Art Deco that put me in the mood. So we got a jazz band that was apparently on hot standby, and I asked for some Chicago Prohibition style. They did well, which was shocking to my ear - although given the lack of spared expense at this point, it's pretty spiffy and had some energy. Enough so that Cass and Tina were up and doing decent impressions of the jitterbug and charleston. Again, I didn't live the era, but I was feeling it. But still, whimsical.

Finally Clovis left for a powernap, and we were left in the capable hands of the head concierge Makram. So I finally decided to let him relax a little - I tried talking to him, but he had a good head on his shoulders; I asked all the usual questions I suppose a new owner has, and he was polite and awkward. I suppose when people treat you like mobile furniture, having someone who doesn't is a bit of a shock. Finally having made him feel uncomfortable for awhile, I decided to head for the casino. Hugo decided to follow, and then went out on his own. I did remind him to not get caught feeding outside the hotel.

The casino was my kind of place I'd own. Roulette wheel, baccarat, something called pharaoh and blackjack. Good times to be had by all, since roulette is basically taking me money hand over fist. Everything else is mellow. I grabbed a pair of cigars from a waitress and circulated. It took me a minute to figure out pharaoh, but it seemed everyone went with the flow. Finally drawn by the siren song of blackjack, I decided it would be bad for me to take money from me, so I gave one of the blackjack dealers a break and a cigar, told him his boss said it was okay, and dealt blackjack for an hour. in 7 different currencies. I suppose in its' way it is more elegant than chips, but it's more stress on the dealer to convert currencies and deal and watch for cheats. Good times all around, except for an Ethiopian guy who bet long and lost hard. Seriously - I don't think the guy won 20 dinar all night. Finally when he was trying to hawk his jewelry, I said no and he could come back later. So he left, and I advised security that he could come back with cash.

Next stop, the ballroom; I can waltz like a boss. And get some nice ladys business card after a kiss on the hand. Alas, being the owner was not a good thing, as I wound up having the Ethiopian come back to give me more money. Damned if that wasn't hard. I mean the dude wanted to give me money under the pretense of gambling. I decided against it, really. I mean we had him on video demeaning himself mightily for some cash. Dude needed help. So I said no, he wasn't that lucky and if he wanted to discuss with the management, the owner would discuss it in my downstairs office. I tried to convince him but somehow he wanted to prove he was good for it by dropping his pants around his ankles. Seriously.

I decided against it - I mean I already had blood, and I wasn't about to let him embarrass himself further. So I asked security to return his dignity to him, and escort him from the premise for the night. He's a wanter. Hell's bells. He'll probably come back tomorrow night. And then we'll have to do something about him, eventually. We'll have to make an agreement of some kind.

Then I took a walkabout - it was interesting to try and be unobtrusive when everyone knew my face. One oddity stuck out, a maid went into a room and then I saw her come out an hour later. Okay, is this a premium service I wasn't told about? Awesome. So I tracked her down, and rather discretely asked what the hell. We talked for a minute or two about her career choices - turns out her name's Nazim, she's a war refugee from the Caliphate who was a medical school; she refused to tend bar or work gambling, so she found herself plying the oldest occupation. She left me a business card. So I had to think about what to do with the new employee who was capitalistic on the side, and while drawing a moustache on the picture of me it hit. She didn't recognize me, and my face was everywhere on a one minute rotation. Fuckadoodle do. So there went plan A for bringing her positive vibes. I called the card, asked for her back. I was quoted a price, charged it, and it went under miscellaneous expenses. After a time, Nazim came back and we went to the...lobby. Because let's not kid ourselves, going to any "owner-only" area with a maid who wasn't a maid was just asking for the rumor mill to start going. So, we went to the employee lounge for a minute, waited until my picture came up in the rotation again. Her clothes hit the floor.

For the second time that night, I had a person naked in front of me expecting sex. And that's not counting the third one that was dressed but seriously wanting sex. And yet again, I passed. 16-year old me was in the back of my head hopping up and down shrieking what the fuck was I waiting for.

16 year old me's kind of a horndog.

After I got her clothes back on, I gave her the deal. She was going to quit, work for me, and go back to med school. It was a seriously...poignant moment. I mean 2 hours ago she was a working girl, and here some total stranger was offering her her dream based on a conversation in the hall after her latest appointment. Admittedly it did have a hallmark moment kind of feel to it, especially when she was sobbing on my suit and hugging me. We went to the front, Clovis apparated his ass in front of me and I started going down the list of the wherefores and the "here's what's going to happen." Progress was made. I got a call from Nazim's pimp. Wanting 2 million. In short, not my fault he didn't take out a hooker insurance policy for her against lost wages due to being hired by a vampire with a heart of gold. I have a feeling we'll be dealing soon.

The most awkward part of this whole thing was when Nazim asked me why I would do something like this. I frankly didn't have an answer that would make sense - the crux of it is remembering growing up and not having any ambition beyond discovering how much booze would make me vomit between bouts of trolling newsgroups. This woman wanted to be a doctor, and probably would have been had it not been for a war. The simplest answer I could give is that peoples' dreams should be realized, but it goes deeper than that. I sense in this territorial expansion of the Caliphate a tremendous wrongness. It's my job, perhaps even something akin to a duty, to put these wrongs aright. And if we have to trade a hooker for a doctor to make that happen, it's a trade I'm comfortable with.

Finally, Brenda and Hugo came back. Brenda I chewed out on principle for the food thing. Let's just ignore the fact that I'm springing for someone to go to med school on the expenses. Ahem. Then we finally, went to crash out and this place gives me weird dreams. Like...walking through Beirut, and it's a ghost town. A beautiful, surreal, sunlight ghost town. I'm not sure if that's an omen or something, but I'm going to find out - probably by living it.

An Elephant, you say?

So I'm not the only one having weird dreams. Waking up from my Beirut desolation, there was Cass wondering what was up with this odd dream she was having, and there was some light blood sweat on her forehead. Weird. I think it might be this area's millennia or 10 of batshit crazy affecting us on some level. That said, all was right after a shower, and it was time to prep for meeting the baroness. Setting aside the GI Joe jokery, it was time to look nice. Manicurist was a lovely japanese lady who...I'm not sure, but she seemed not quite distressed, but more excited. It made concentrating kind of difficult. It was divinely relaxing though. I may keep this in the bag of "Jason needs an R&R day." Because then Hugo walked in and babbled. And then I asked him why I hadn't shot him yet, which freaked the manicurist right the hell out. Apparently I asked why I hadn't shot him using my outside voice. Dammitall. I passed it off as old friends being annoying to each other - and tipped well. Then everyone cleaned up extra nicely, and we were off to...run right into Baldesar. Who was just coming up to see if we were ready. We were, everyone properly attired; Tina had a knife or five in her garter while I had my comfy shoulder holster with Tinas' spare riding along my back. All in all, a typical outing where violence was not expected, merely prepared for.

The Baroness was quite nice for an androgynous magnetic creature, and over a game of cards discussed our collective plans; I'm just in town for a few while surveying the holdings and preparing to leave them in good charge. So a little get-together is planned for a few days from now, things are sorted, and we take our leave. Of note: Hugo's Ravnos-ness went over poorly, Brenda's Caitiffness only somewhat, and Baldesar was there as a pro-forma thing. Very...I don't think tense is the right word, but businesslike distaste.

Once we got back to the suite, Clovis let me know that Madalyn was en route and would be there shortly, two messages. The Ethiopian was back and willing to give me money. That was nice of him, but the ground rules for him were firmly established. Additionally, Nazim was visited by a member of Hamas. Asked seurity to detain him next time - I would like to talk to him personally. Then we finally headed up to the Suite. Andre, bless his thinking of things I don't, did a sweep and found a pair of bugs - one lowend, the other government-grade. Dude is awesome. So, white-noise generator in play, curtains drawn and Auspex dampened, we got down to looking at the elephant in the room. The Giovanni are probably about a week behind us and he wants to know if we have a plan.

Uhm, yes we have a plan. Take a sub back to Rio and start the war in earnest. The Count was unamused. But he doesn't have anything even close to a plan. I pumped him for information, mainly to see how far he trusts us. Pretty far, as it turns out. Hugo gave me a look and a "why didn't you tell me this before?" Frankly, would anyone believe us if we told them without the evidence staring us in the face? Hell, the only reason I believe it is because I remember it. I think it's quite possible he's possibly found purpose. It certainly kept him quiet. Back to the pertinent parts, yes there's a plan. Certainly it's a plan that mostly consists of "roll with the punches and counter-punch" but planning rarely works out. That said, I need to up my timetable for gaining allies. Email to Pops is en-route. But apparently Cass rubs Baldesar the wrong way and I got brought rudely back to the front with Baldesar flat-out dominating her into addressing him as Count. That went over like the traditional burrito-fart before the Pope, and I telepathy-stopped that shit before Cass and Baldesar commenced redecorating the Presidential Suite in Early Warzone. Seriously, this place is antiques out the ass. New rule - no fighting in the War Room. The fact that I have to say this is testament to the insanity. Finally Baldesar was being...dippy. Arrogant but at the same time up shit creek and needing all the help he can get. Dude needs some humility. I kicked his ass out. My domain, my rules. Seriously, I'm shocked it worked. Dude is old and could wipe the floor with the lot of us. This may be one reason why Tina tends to defer.

An aside on Baldesar. He's a combination of powerful and weak. Physically, he's dominating, but he doesn't have the wherewithal to plan out the next few decades, and he's looking at us to help his ass out. So we're supposed to help him because we're good people. Or we owe him for wrecking his life. Either way he needs to be giving up a little more information that I can use. To that end, we're sending Brenda over to make niceynicey. She can use her Wednesday charms on his ass. I sure as hell don't want to - and I trust him barely. Hence he doesn't get to know all the plans.

That crisis kicked down the road, a new one decided to rear itself in the form of my early warning system pinging Level Off-Off Yellow. (When you have this much Auspex, your threat system has way more than 5 colors. Just FYI for anyone thinking about it.) One quick pistol check later, my concierge comes in apologetically to tell me that Nazim killed herself. What the fuck. Head down and Clovis apparates again, yammering - I advise him to make a hole. Seriously, I'm pissed. Either A) I seriously misjudged, or B) someone killed her. A quick look around and a few minutes with the towel reveal it to be C) Something killed her. Or more specifically, frightened her so badly she took the only exit, not knowing or caring that the only exit was 3 stories to the ground. Yes, she's getting a good funeral. What was weird was the thing that frightened her from the mirror was cartoonish as shit, but it resonated on a primal level that the Beast understood. Fuck. Something frightening is in my hotel, and I really need to think about getting a cleaner. Brenda's on it. So the cops arrive, make this a crime scene, and then we get escorted out because it's the cops' thing. Something about one of the cops twigs odd.

Finally, we go back, and I rock my ass astral. Still awesome after all these years. But I dip down to where the cop is, and he's definitely a vampire. That said, I can see where Nazim was chased. Fuck. I honestly feel a little guilty about that. I mean, she had one good night after a lot of grief, and the dominoes fall for her to die. And it's not even a death that I can cry havoc and let slip the dogs of fuck all y'all we's havin' a killin'. But I saw the scratches the...thing left. It was real on some level. Sometimes your number comes up like that, but I feel like I had a hand in it. It's a delight to be astral, but I need to do things that require my body back. And so, we return. The concierge is asked to request the good policemans' presence when he's finished, and then take a nice relaxing break. Dude loves me. I pay him to not work. Which is awesome. So the cop arrives, I introduce myself and crew, politely let him know that we're also undead, and then make arrangements. I let him know what I saw, explain it all, and then we get resettled. And with 15 minutes to spare before Madalyn arrived. Time to recenter, breathe, and let all the world second itself to what's in front of me. Namely, playing like I'm just a good poker player who's having an odd night.

It went over okay. I claimed an early dinner and mild psychological concern due to the events of the evening. Midway through the entree, she started playing footsie. Yeah, she's looking for a new husband. Nobody with a strict business interest manages to show up once by chance and then have a decided interest in my itinerary. I'm insanely rich, a nice talker and also number 14 on Rios' top 25 most eligible bachelors list. I think. Somewhere in there the paperwork was signed, countersigned, and shot to the lawyers for processing. Finally on the way back up to the suite, I said she could have a room, kissed her hand, took some blood...and Madalyn decided that the security team needed a show. I wasn't adverse to a little exhibitionism, and 16 year old me said "FINALLY, DUMBASS."

Note to self; leak that security tape to a few sites in a few days - make sure Madalyns' kosher with that. I mean, a hotel magnate sex tape has been done, and it might also bring some press to keep the Giovanni hit squad at bay. Future plans possibly have to see if Madalyn's trustworthy enough to be part of the Plan. I'm pretty sure she'll be good with what I have planned. Prince Tawfeek? Not so much.

He had someone from the Lebanese Security Force drop the nice bug in my room. Him, I will have to put the fear of god into - he was born on third base and thinks he hit a triple, and thus is not unlike Baldesar. Auspex indicated he told them a story about me being involved in smuggling and other such things - he's not entirely wrong, but this is something I can work with. If the Lebanese security force thinks they've been hoodwinked, they may be less inclined to help him. Now I need to see if Taka will be good with what I'm planning. Now Clovis, on the other hand, was worried about his job. That's why he dropped the second bug. There was a very brief talk in my office, and he damn near gave himself a heart attack. I had to actually dominate him to calm down. Reassured him that I would take a light hand, and he didn't need to worry about his job. I can't fault him for being worried, but he shouldn't be. He's good.

So, priorities. Take the next 5 days and get Baldesar to come with us, get business arrangements with Taka and the prince, frame the prince, talk to Pop about getting friends with a fastness, and then prep for the next phase of the war.

An unexpected party

In the midst of all this, I appear to have skimped on some details. Rolling back to arrival night, life was still pretty good. I'm dealing blackjack, converting currencies and odds in my head, having a cigar and feeling good about being me - because let's not lie, even with all the problems I have, it is in fact awesome to be me. About a minute or two after the bad ethiopian left, who settles in for a hand but Jamie (Jeremy now, but I always think of that lanky dude as Jamie. Note to self; keep that shit to myself.) So over cards, we conversed. He was in fact the bearer of bad news. Although on the up side, he doesn't seem to be a bird-dog for the Camarilla, but then I didn't ask. So I filled him in on the details of why I was here, I think he might have been marginally impressed that I won everything in a game of cards. Of minor note is that while we were doing all this, I'm still dealing cards, and Jamies' playing to draw with the house. I suppose it'd be impolite to clean out an old friends' wallet. It definitely would be. But damn, still good to see him. He let me know that Brian was in town as well - marginal boggle there. I did cop to the Cagliari thing and that, shockingly, is why they're here. As noted, the Giovanni are on our collective asses.

Let's take a moment; Counting numbers, there's about 4 or 5 people that I know from my breathing days who got whipsawed back in time. That's a lot. We're seriously doing things...right? Wrong? I'm getting a serious Chosen One vibe from the group, whether by chance or destiny, we're useful to someone.

That said, Andre's on the crew-hiring fast. That's his job until we get the hell out of town. I may in fact have to bail on Baghdad. That is something I'm disappointed in, but if Masood can read my emails right, he may hook a ride west. Actually, he may not even need to go that far. I think if I go to the eastern edge of town, Baghdads' within my mental communication range. We'll call that plan B if email doesn't work. Meanwhile, we got problems. The Giovanni are sending people, and as has been previously noted, they'd like to have a chat. Not a fan.

However, even with all that, there's crap to attend to in the mortal sphere. After that, business had to be attended to - I had to get Prince Nur Tawfeek to sign off on everything and chat up Takenaka. Turns out Takenaka's manufacturing is more medical supplies and masks, stuff like that. So no spare parts there, but I think I'm going to give him an opportunity to make money building ship parts in Rio. He's a cool guy. Prince Tawfeek, not so much. Our conversation at the casino was genial enough, but there was something about the whole thing that made me uneasy. So I fast-shot the documents back to Legal in Rio and took my sweet time. Part of the issue for them was that it was in Arabic, and they didn't have a translator handy. I read Arabic, but I don't read Legal. The boys and girls who do read Legal did an excellent division of work, and pronounced it legit enough for me to sign off on, and so I did - and left, but the uneasy feeling didn't go away. So I pulled over and went over my car. (I don't have a driver everywhere.) There was a car-bomb rigged to my accelerator.

Friends, I must note a personal failing of mine. At times, I have a temper, and it will in fact get the best of me. This was one of those times. I was able to figure out enough of the bomb to realize that ripping it out would disable my car, but it wouldn't go off. I called Legal back and asked for a re-accounting of the contract, pointing them toward the sections on escape clauses and told them to call me back when they were done. Then I ripped the carbomb out and walked back to the casino with the intent of finding out which one of Tawfeeks' orifices could most uncomfortably fit around said carbomb.

Security took exception to me walking in with a bomb and detained me for two hours, during which time the fucker left. And the cops showed up to ask me just what the hell I was doing. Sigh. Meanwhile, Legal called me back and advised me that if I died within the next 30 days, a somewhat obscure clause in Lebanese law would revert the marina back to Prince Tawfeek. Sigh again. This man insists on being a pain in my ass. I could be cruel and arrange my death in 31 days, but that'd be some work. I may have to do something about him, because otherwise he's just going to keep trying to have me killed.

The ride home wasn't fraught with danger, but it was fraught with other jazz. Plans to meet Madalyn for a quick drink later tomorrow, party the next night courtesy of the Baroness, and a few social demands. James emailed me with some footage they'd snagged from the docks. The Giovanni are in town, an unknown exact number but at least 5. Baldesar decided to show up and offer me one last chance to travel with him (to Cairo,) about 5 minutes ahead of the gentlemen hunting his ass. He actually actually offered to shake my hand. Given that he wanted to fight his way out, I declined - he might have had an idea that I'd make a great riot shield for him. I ordered up a car for him, but he took the Gravity Exit from my window. I suppose that's one way. Then security rang again, asking what to do about the two gentlemen wishing to speak with me. I told them they needed to make an appointment, and their response was to dominate Clovis into letting them go up.

Not entirely unexpected, but annoying nonetheless. Time to roll Hugo out - he'd had a helluva night himself, if his glassy grunting was any indication. He made a nice little illusion of the room being empty, which earned Clovis a quick trip to unconsciousness. That man needs a raise. Additionally, the two saw through Hugo's illusion (Fuck!) and chided me gently. They want Baldesar and Brenda, though they don't know Brenda's name. This tells me important things - 1, they don't have Rosura, and 2, they do know who opened the vault, since they didn't ask for Cass or Tina. That said, I did cop to Baldesar saying he was heading to Cairo, and I got no idea where Brenda was. I did have to be careful with that, since it's not just me riding with a fuckton of Auspex. Reading my mind is not impossible. So finally I dickered around and bought 24 hours. And a little mention that this is in fact my hotel and domain, which they were respectful of once noted. Also they noted I appear to have a bit of hero complex, and a hero complex gets people dead. I didn't think I was that transparent, but oh well.

Finally, we got everyone together to discuss things. Brenda apparently got new clothes, a head in a box, and a beating stick. She opened the box, and there was a severed head, saying "I received your message, I will be in Beirut tomorrow at midnight." And we all float down here.

Does nobody else here know how to use email!?

Finally, all the information came out onto the table, and then James commenced planning - Two major priorities are vying for the attention of the collective. One is that apparently Brenda has a big specter latched onto her - that's whyfor her hair is getting jacked up. And per Brian it is what they call in the business "A Bad Thing". For all you kids watching at home, take note - when a necromancer says something is a bad thing, it is in fact a bad thing. In all probability it is a Bad Thing With Splash Damage. One-A is the Giovanni. Now getting the specter off of Brenda is the job of Brian and Brenda, and possibly her sire. That ain't my wheel house, so I'll be deferring there. The real issue is what James is laying out for the plan. To wit, the following. Summon Baldesar back, destroy him, and then have Hugo Embrace someone who approximates Brenda, have Brenda fleshcraft them to be a body double, and then have Hugo create some illusions for them to see before we destroy the body double. Anything goes wrong with this plan, and we'll be known enemies of the family, who have been empowered by Augustus himself to bring a good deal of pressure upon anyone who knows their whereabouts.

I'm not sure what happened to him, but I have some qualms about this plan. One, it seems overly complicated. Two, killing Baldesar is not going to be easy. Three, killing someone for being in the wrong place at the wrong time and having a certain body type is not even a little good. Four, if they see through it (see qualm one) we get on the list. I need a new plan, and I need it fast. Talking to Baldesar is doable, as even in Cairo, he'll still be in range. We need to give the bounty hunters what they want. They want to know the whereabouts of Baldesar and Brenda. I'll give them that. Cairo.

That said, we'll call James' plan Plan C. Plan B is "run like a bitch." I will have to circle back eventually to pick up the Charles H. Roan, but if necessary it can wait. I'll just have to make arrangements for the currency exchange through a cutout.