[WoD] And All That Jazz.

[Jonas Bellinger]

The city bustled with activity even as the sun set. Cars driving past, traffic jams. Oooh, guy with a hot dog.....

The man, setting his hot dog and his drink down on the park bench beside him for one second, fiddled with his annoying ring tone. He answers the phone. After a few seconds of gesturing, the occasional curse, and several small phrases later, the man hangs up the phone. He reaches for his hot dog, and then looks down when the wrapped frank did not greet his tangible senses. The hot dog was gone. He looked around for a few minutes, trying to see if anyone was there with a hot dog, his hot dog, in their hands. Nope. And not even a dog eating it nearby, tearing into the paper. With a frown, the man continues on his way. Little did he notice the mangy dog, laying quietly in the bushes not even three feet from him, licking the bread crumbs from his chops, savoring the taste of the hot dog. Sucker... Jonas, the consummate Ragabash, chuckled in his mind.

Jonas had heard most of the conversation, the dog did, but simply, not a whole lot of it sounded interesting to him. Trotting out of the bushes, the dog dashes a few hundred yards, before slinking down into an alley. Nosing his way through the trash, he finds a comfortable spot, and settles in. This wouldn't seem unusual to many people: a stray dog getting cozy in a pile of old blankets. But the wolf knew better.

Being a wolf in the Windy City was quite unusual indeed. But he had come from another wolf in the city, one who, to Jonas' knowledge, had been dead for quite some time. He didn't even remember the last time he saw a member of his clan, the Bone Gnawers. But honestly, that was their way: they were seen but not known. Sometimes this was true even to the members of the pack. But he could remember his First Change. It was incredible. He found an intelligence that he had never tapped into before. He found a new sense of self. Everything was about survival, but now it would be easier.....just go to a homeless shelter, and you get a hot shower, a good meal, and a place to sleep for a bit. But he felt more comfortable in his Lupus form, the form of his birth. He was the runt out of a litter of ten. But one wouldn't or couldn't tell now. The wolf was quite large now, about the size of a German Sheperd. And much stronger.

Rolling once more to get the dirt-stained comforter nice and lumpy, Jonas the wolf settled in for a little nap, his belly full from the good score of a fresh hot dog. Anyone who could see the dog would know that, despite being a stray, this dog was happy. Perfectly content....

[Morgan Evanar]

The new gunmetal grey Audi RS4’s Nokian RSi snow tires bit through the snow like a pitbull through a child. A cold front had blown past days ago, importing artic air. Since, the wind had reversed a little, granting Chicago an impressive lake effect snowfall. Martin had the heater on, but not for himself. No, he had stopped caring about cold or normal heat in the early 19th century. The heater was on for his paints. He did not want to rely on the 12v heater he had brought along to thaw them.

Martin was glad that the streets were mostly empty. The lake effect had only fallen in the mid-day, and the commuters had since gone home, the city caught with its pants down. The wind was not supposed to shift until the weekend for a few days before a new front. Confident his paints and brushes were secured, he put the 400 horsepower all-wheel drive Audi into an impressive tail out V8 wailing drift as he ran the blinking red making a left off Ewing Avenue onto 95th. He mashed the throttle as the car straightened, passing a patrol car going roughly sixty-five and did not let up until he was at the beach in Calumet Park. Leaving the car on, he grabbed his paints and 12v heater, setting them on the hood of the car. He retrieved an easel, several set up canvases and a small wooden folding chair from the trunk. Once set up, he sat for a minute, watching the snow fall until it was right.

He began to paint the snow and the markers and the beach and the waves and the sky over Lake Michigan. The pattern of the snowflake’s meanings would be guessed at by many at the next gallery, but only Martin knew. And, in the snow, painted ever so subtly, were the letters L A Y. He got up and mirrored the letters using his feet, making a very temporary mark in the sand and snow with the practical hiking boots. Winter and summer were together. Laugh at yourself. Lie again, yuppie.

Hrm.

[Fiona Devlin]

(ooc note - just doing some interaction to set up things for us. Feel free to find us in chicago ^^)

DOWNTOWN CHICAGO

:: Fiona waited outside in her car, a blue '68 Shelby Mustang GT500KR. Michele's class was finished, but she was running a bit late. Running fingers through her hair, she popped in 2112 and closed her eyes ::

[Michele Hawkins]

Two blocks until home and I can finally ice my fingers. Mrs. Ceffaclio was on the warpath today with working me over. My recital was less then a week away and she wouldm't let me leave until I preformed Beethovan's 5th, Movement 4, perfectly. It was the only part of the piece giving me trouble. After two hours of torture, I was allowed to leave.

God. Even flexing my fingers doesn't help. Least the cold is now a little and I must admit, the snow always made the city look prettier, no matter how many complain about it.

Hmm. Why is the car out in front? Fiona never takes that out unless ... Aha! As I move closer I hear Rush reverberating off the metal.

I knock on the window to get her attention, hoping she wasn't waiting too long. The bus was late today. Again.

[Fiona Devlin]

:: Fiona blinked and rolled the window down ::

"I gave the bike the day off."

:: She ducked her head out to catch a snowflake on her tongue ::

"Hop in!"

[Michele Hawkins]

I chuckled. For as old as Fiona was, she certainly was a kid a lot of the time. It was part of her charm.

"All right." I smiled and cracked the passenger side open. I really wasn't expecting to go anywhere tonight. Makes me wonder if this was one of Fiona's spontaneous moments or if she had something up her sleeve.

I tossed my backpack behind her seat, "Where're we going?"

[Fiona Devlin]

"To the club. I've got a suprise for you."

:: She pet Michele's cheek with a gloved hand ::

[Ezra Khaine]

A lone figure marched down the snow covered sidewalks. It was dressed from head to toe in black with a scarf wrapped around the lower half of its face and a tight beanie covered most of the upper half of his head. Only his eyes were visible in the space between the scarf and headwear. In his hand he carried a long slender cane that tapped along the sidewalk as he moved. A car roared past and threw a wave of icy snow up onto the man. The man used a gloved hand to brush the snow off his thick coat. He did not mind a little snow because all it was to him was water. The cold did not matter and had not mattered for a long time, for he was not human anymore. If anyone had looked close enough they would have noticed that he cast no reflection in the shop windows that he walked past.

Ezra Khaine was not just out for a stroll through town, he was looking for someone or something rather, in specific. He had only been in Chicago for a few months, spending that entire period of time searching. He had spent his time between searching the internet, newspapers, and just plain looking on his own. What was he looking for? Reports of large dogs or wolfs. He had found a few and he narrowed down his search to this area of chicago.

He walked briskly down the sidewalk, looking to the right at two women in a blue Mustang. He turned away and continued down the sidewalk. He turned a corner and continued down anther sidewalk until he turned once again and headed down a wide alley. As he walked he unwrapped his scarf from around his face and removed the beanie from his head, slipping it into his coat pocket until he needed it again.

There on a disgustingly dirty matt lay a dog that looked like its ancestors may have been wolves. Ezra knew better then that. He knew its ancestors had been wolves, or rather werewolves, "Greetings Lupine," Ezra said coolly while taping his cane on the ground a few times incase the wolf was asleep.

[Jonas Bellinger]

The Lupus-formed Jonas smelled the vampire from about half a block away. He didn't expect it to stop, or to come to him. He had expected it merely to pass him by. But not only did it seek him out. It had also stopped and addressed him. And clicked his cane on the ground. Most likely, a weapon. Either just the cane, or a cane sword. Irregardless, Jonas would keep him offguard.

Getting up slowly from the prone position, the large dog stretched, letting out a large yawn, before sitting back on its haunches on the mat. It looked up to the bundled man, and cocked its head sideways, letting out a bewildered yelp, as if he were inquiring.

The dog then turned to the side, and began to walk down the alley. Jonas had a spot in mind where they could communicate, and where Jonas could change into the Homid form and dress himself.

As soon as he was around the corner, the Garou broke into a run. If the vampire wanted to talk or to do something else, he would track Jonas. Otherwise, he would leave it be.

Finding his cache of goods, Jonas began the change. The hair on his body receded slowly, the cracking of bones as they shifted lingering horridly on the air. The muscles shifted, changing their density and tension to match the frame. And the skin shifted, the hair moving to the natural parts of the slowly-becoming Homid form. Once it was done, the wind and cold nipped at his slightly tanned, and dirt-sprinkled skin. Dressing himself in the most intact pair of jeans, and a wool shirt, he threw an old leather trenchcoat around him. It was discarded a few weeks ago, because the buttons were missing. Another man's garbage, another man's treasure. It kept him warm. And finding the matching pair of insulated boots with the wooly insides, Jonas slipped them on. The last thing was a black toboggan and a scarf, pulling the hat down on his head as he wrapped the scarf around his neck. Nice and toasty, Jonas leaned against the wall of his cache, a small alcove just inside an abandoned building. Jonas focused on himself, and willed himself to stay still, only moving to breathe. With the combination of his clothing and the natural gifts of a Garou of his birth, Jonas would blend in with the environment around him. Breathing wasn't, in this case, considered moving, as long as he remained in place. Some called it Blissful Ignorance. Others called it just damn good. Feeling comfortable from the cold, and braced leisurely against the wall, Jonas would reveal himself to the vampire when he was ready, on his terms. Either his way, or the highway. And Jonas was certain that he could either outrun or rip the vampire to shreds....if need be. But only if it need be. Otherwise, it was his tail or no tail. Survival above all else......Jonas waited, to see if the vampire would show, tapping his cane along.

[Ezra Khaine]

"Typical," Ezra whispered as he watched the werewolf run down the alley and out of sight, "Always making things harder," He wrapped his face again and recovered his head. He walked down the alley with his eyes resting on the tracks left in the snow, dirt, and mud. As he walked he had half expected to see the tracks slowly change as the wolf assumed his Homid form, and then melt into a crowd and disappear. No, the werewolf had no morphed, not yet anyways. He was sure he would and he hoped he did. It was much easier to understand a werewolf when they can actually speak. All that barking and growling was far too primitive for the likes of Ezra to understand.

He continued to fallow the path until he came upon an old building, abandoned most likely. He tried the front door and grimaced as the door fell clean off its rusty hinges and onto the floor beyond, "Damn," Ezra exclaimed as he inspected his glove and found a large amount of greasy dirt plastered all over it. He moved through the opening that had housed the door a moment ago, and entered the building. The old floorboards creaked under his feet as he walked across them. He was careful not to let his cane fall through any of the many holes that dotted the floor.

For once in his life he actually wished he possessed the lupines' great sense of smell, it would make it easier to track them. No, all he had was superb vision in the dark, but that did not help him find the wolf either. He was sure the beast was inside the building, but he failed to spot it, "Come out, come out where ever you hide. I wish to speak with you Bone Gnawer; won't you come out and play?" He was not about to mention the great amount of research he had to go through just to find that Chicago had once been dominated by werewolves of the Bone Gnawer Clan, because it would sound like whining and that was bad for his self image.

[Jonas Bellinger]

Damn.....Jonas thought to himself. Not only does he know that I'm a Garou; he knows that I'm a Bone Gnawer as well....This guy was good. Too good. But fortunately, he couldn't see Jonas. Or smell him. But Jonas could see, and smell him. Even with the cold, the scent of fresh blood was on the bundled man. And the smell of the clothing, with fabric softener clinging to them. It made the vampire a target to Jonas, giving him a clear sense of the vampire's location.

Stepping into view, Jonas felt the gift leave him, revealing himself to the vampire in all of his dirt-stained decadence.

"It depends on what you mean by playing, Kindred."

Looking around a bit, Jonas noted, in the reflection of himself in the cracked glass, that something was off. The vampire should've been there, but he simply wasn't. So, that meant, Lasombra, Sabbat. Yikes. Creepy.

"So, how's the Lasombra treatin' ya?"

[Ezra Khaine]

Ezra's eyes danced over the Werewolf for a few moments, taking in its raggedy appearance and smiling inwardly. Even in the Lupines could shape shift and smell, they were still just animals and clearly lack that finesse that came naturally to all vampires.

"I would not know. It has been a over a century since I have been among other Lasombra, but that story is for another time. I come to you not out of hostility; you can see I carry no weapon unless you fear a blunt cane which is more suitable for playing fetch then fighting with. I come to you with a question. Rumor has it that the members of the Bone Gnawers possess a wealth of information of the kind that concerns our kind. But I am not here to ask about the supernatural, I wish information in the whereabouts of a certain group known only as the 'Silver Hand'*. Would you happen to possess any knowledge of them? I am willing to meet nearly any price you want."

Sure Ezra could have simply lashed out and used his power of shadow manipulation to bring the werewolf down and then torture the information out of him, but that was not Ezra's style. He was a gentlemen's Vampire.

*The silver hand is a group I made up so don't bother with searching the internet for it because it only exists here and now. They are a small group of vampire hunters that are growing in size and are based in Chicago.

[Sierra]

Walk down any street in Chicago and there's a 50/50 chance you'll run into a vamp. The place is crawling with them. You can never be too sure, too suspicious, not since a couple of years back when the whole place went to Hell in a hand basket. Things used to be calm on the surface, but now everyone's grievances are out in the open. The vamps are freaking out because the iron grip they once had on the place is slowly slipping away. Lupines, the Sabbat, the Society of Leopold – hell, even the FBI are a threat. Since the Prince was killed, it seems like everyone has been making a grab for Chicago.

We sure do attract a lot attention. Most of it unwanted, like this Lasombra. You know something is up when they start creeping around alleyways, turning to wolves for scraps of info – usually they have their finger right on the pulse, so to speak. I guess that's why I followed him, 'cause there's got to be something important going down. I hang back near the entrance to the alleyway, ducked behind an old dumpster, listening. Shovelhead wants to know about some group called the Silver Hand... just fascinating.

[Michele Hawkins]

I couldn't get even a small hint as to what was awaiting me at the club. Hell, I couldn't get Fiona to cough up which club it was. Eventually I had to admit defeat and would have to be patient.

I yawned, exhausted from my long day at school and watched the building pass by while 2112 still continued to sing out of the speakers. My eyes were growing heavy and between the music and the smooth ride, I eventually was lulled to sleep like a baby.

[Fiona Devlin]

:: Fiona let Michele rest, fully lost in the groove of classic rock as she drove to the Succubus Club. She parked in a secure spot and turned off the engine ::

[Michele Hawkins]

I was out like a light. The car coming to a stop and the engine dying down did nothing to wake me up. I might as well been sleeping at home in our bed with how comfortable I was.

[Fiona Devlin]

:: Fiona watched her sleep for a few moments, then snurfled her ear to wake her ::

[Michele Hawkins]

My shoulders scrunch up as something tickles my ear. With sleepy eyes, I turn my head around to be greeted by the most beautiful of sights. I'm so damn lucky to have a woman like Fiona.

I know that you've probably heard and have said that phrase before, but trust me. No one has a woman like Fiona. No one. She's quite special. Very few can call themselves true Immortal. And no, Vampires don't count. She has lived dozens of centuries and didn't need to drink a drop of blood to do it.

"Hey," I smile and stretch my arms, stiff from not being able to move. "Guess I konked out, eh."

Blinking away the last vestiges of sleep, I look around the neighborhood. It's unfamiliar to me. "Where are we?"

[Fiona Devlin]

:: She points to the sign over the door - 'The Succubus Club' ::

"Or would you rather go home?" she said teasingly.

[Michele Hawkins]

My eyes widened in almost glee. The Succubus Club was one of the premire clubs around. Anybody who was anybody was dying to get into the place. Every night, and we're talking weeknights not just weekends here, a huge line of people begged to be let inside. Sometimes they were choosy, other times they weren't. It depended on what was going on inside the club at the time.

"You gotta be kidding me! It's totally impossible to get in there." I grin ear to ear knowing better, "But lemme guess. You know the owner... or something?"

[Fiona Devlin]

"Something like that." she said with a wink.

:: she reached into the backseat and grabbed her guitar case, then locked the door and walked to the back entrance ::

[Michele Hawkins]

Was why Fiona bringing her guitar? Oh, I know! I bet it's part of my surprise!

Well, there was only one way to find out. I got outta the car and went after Fiona. How cool was this? We're going inside the Succubus club through the back door.

My hands started to sweat since I was getting nervous. Good thing Fiona was going to do all the talking. I'd probably fumble over my words and look like a fool.

[Fiona Devlin]

:: Fiona walked down the alley, straight up to the door where two imposing Brujah stood with arms folded. She looked over her shoulder at Michele ::

"Wake up, you."

[Jonas Bellinger]

Jonas smiled.

"Silver Hand? Well, I was attacked a few months ago....Or actually, someone attacked the people I was informing, and they wanted me for extra information. Didn't know the deal, until two of the five blubbered like children. One good right hook..."

Jonas faked a right hook.

"...literally spun their heads backwards. You could hear the pop of spinal fluid, the snap of the spine casing, and the crunch of cartilage: music to my eccentric ears. And then this one bitch rushed me with katars......got me once, and they were silver. Left a nice scar. Of course, she got it in the end, on the end of a nasty prick....a sword that one of the others was carrying. I simply backhanded her with the right, and she went flying, landing on it while it was still in the dude's hand......One fired off two shots, thirty-eight, silver. Only one hit. The last one, which he fired in his death throes, while his windpipe was being crushed, and his jugular pierced. And the sword guy left a nice scar, too, before I gave him a little headache.....Or should I say, alleviated it for him...."

All the while, Jonas breathed slightly, naturally for breaks in the sentence. Nothing could've noted that he smelled another vampire. This one, accordingly, had fed recently, and was just outside the window that indicated the Lasombra. Right next to the dumpster. And Jonas was pretty sure it was female.....

"Maybe they were of the Silver Hand. I didn't see any markings on them.....And irregardless, they are bad for business on all sides of your little conflict. And chances are, if they are hunting the kind Kindred, then they are most likely out for me as well. Or an added, uncalculated bonus."

Jonas nodded to the window, indicating a direction.

"I haven't heard anything about them at all, the name sounds cool, but I haven't heard a thing. But, according to you and your body language, this info is important, and if the others found out it would be bad. Man, sounds like a bitch of a situation to be in......"

[Ezra Khaine]

Ezra listened with hidden interest. Normally he was not one for gruesome details, even if he was a vampire. This time though he was listening to every last detail. If this was in fact the Silver Hand then Ezra was glad for their deaths. His only hope was that the Lupine had not killed them all. The ones he had run into seemed intent on killing werewolves. The ones that had engaged him and his kind had been armed for fighting vampires; crosses, steaks, bright torches, garlic, and all sorts of anti-vampire weaponry just short of holy water. Ezra had managed to kill his attackers but the rest of his little coven had perished. He was going to finish off the rest of the Silver Hand himself.

The Lupines final words caught Ezra's attention. The look in the man's eyes gave most of the secret away, but his words confirmed it and more. Ezra did not look towards the window but instead raised his hands and cracked his neck, his eyes remaining on the werewolf the entire time, "Hmm, sounds like it could be the same blokes. Where did you run into them?" He asked and then made 'stay here' motion with his hand, only barely moving it in the process. With that he closed his eyes and the shadows danced a little and Ezra's body melted into the very shadows he was standing in.

Moving through darkness was not so bad; it was coming back to the prime material world that made you sick. It was like the biggest sneeze in the world, only backwards. He emerged from the shadows behind the spy. There was a click and a the silken noise of sliding steel as Ezra twisted the handle of his hand and pulled the sword out from the hollow case. He poked the blade against the woman's back, "Give me a reason not to kill you."

[Sierra]

“Because we're on the same side? Some of my boys got bitchslapped by the Silver Hand... left a nice big imprint on the Pack.”

That's not 100% true, but it's close enough. I respect the Lasombra, don't get me wrong, but I've got no love for them. As much as I'd rather not get pally with one of the bogeymen, if it was going to lead me to the people who messed with the Pack, I was willing to make a comprise. Just think of it as choosing a lesser of two evils, I guess.

[Michele Hawkins]

I must've just been standing there staring at the building awestruck. My cheeks begin to redden and I say nothing to avoid sounding dumb with an apology as I catch up to Fiona.

[Fiona Devlin]

:: Fiona turned back to the two Brujah again ::

"Alright guys, give it a rest."

:: The two grudgingly seperated and let them pass ::

[Michele Hawkins]

I was pressed up against Fiona's back as we passed by the bodyguards. I mean, I know they weren't going to do anything me. Not with Fiona there, but they had this look behind their eyes as if they wanted to devour me.

It sent a shiver down my spine and I was thankful to be inside away from them. And wow! The backstage was a bustle of servers, stage hands and general hands moving various boxes, equipment and who knows what else about.

My fingers slipped into Fiona's hand so I wouldn't get lost.

[Fiona Devlin]

:: Fiona clicked her tongue as she looked back past Michele at the doorway ::

"You know, eternal life is no excuse for not flossing."

:: She gave Michele's hand a playful tug as they walked into the club ::

[Michele Hawkins]

I felt myself get dragged for a moment. I didn't realize Fiona was on the move again and took two hard steps before I was walking normal again and feeling completely out of place. Besides the servers wearing uniforms, most of the patrons tonight were wearing business causal attire. Everyone smelled of money and here I was looking plain in my black slacks and tan sweater.

"Um, Fiona?" I lean against her for support. I get this sense that everyone is staring at me, wondering who I am and why Fiona brought me here. My excitment turned timid in a hurry.

[Fiona Devlin]

:: She turned with a raised brow ::

"Whot?"

[Michele Hawkins]

"I ..." I sigh, grumbling and looking away. It's hard to put into words how I feel. Just, I never felt comfortable around these sorts of people. Perhaps it's because of how I grew up, being passed around foster homes like a basketball. I've always been shy and never knew how to take a compliment. Always feel as if everyone is judging me and having zero self confidence in social gatherings never help, especially with the unfamiliar.

[Fiona Devlin]

"Hey ..."

:: Fiona touched her face and looked her in the eye. She'd been around long enough to read people pretty well ::

" ... you're here to enjoy yourself, and I'm gonna play tonight. You can join me onstage or hang back and relax. Whatever You want."

:: Her eyes were full of fun, and love for her friend ::

[Ezra Khaine]

"Same side?" Ezra questioned pulling the blade point from her back, "I have no side. I'm a one man show,” Gangrel, by the look of her. Ezra had spent so much time with all varieties of vampires that he had come to notice that little things that separate the clans. The Gangrel where little better then animals and in his mind they were like werewolves with fangs and a bloodlust. They were deadly foes, that was sure, especially since most of the clan was allied with the Camarilla.

"Why should I give a care what happened to you, because last time I checked the Camarilla where not my list of allies," He had to resist the urges to just remove her head right there. Ezra was no fighter, he was a thinker, but right now his nerves were a little too frayed to allow him to think clearly. All he wanted was to kill the Silver Hand. He didn't care who else fell under their fist.

[Martin Le Roux]

Unlike Fiona, Martin simply smiled politely at the burly pair and was let in. He was something of a maverick in the Chicago Kindred community. While not exactly thumbing his nose at the Prince, he had turned down the title of Primogen for his clan more than once, very politely, maintaining that he was not interested in politics.

The exact opposite was true. Martin played Camarilla politics all the time. Not being in a position of offical power but being highly respected was part of the game. He had a reputation of unpredictability to maintain. Showing up at the Succubus Club was part of that. In reality, he was mostly here because Fiona had asked him to be. She had, in fact, threatened (jokingly) to withold a book he had waited on for ten years if he did not show up.

Unlike some of the other goers, arrayed bussiness casual, Martin wore strictly casual clothing of well worn jeans, a fur lined brown leather jacket, brown shoes and a nice button down shirt, worn untuckted. A camera bag bounced off his hip.

His footsteps were easily lost in the bustle as he approached Fiona and... well, she was someone not seen before.

"Hello Fiona. I'm here unfashionably early this time." He said with a wink and a hint of a smile.

[Jonas Bellinger]

Jonas watched as the vampire disappeared into the shadows. It was amazing to watch him just meld into them. And it was as if he were invisible. The smell of him lingered, but it wasn't strong enough to pinpoint. The reason was that he wasn't even on the same plane of existence. Much like the Garou's ability, with training and meditation, to pass into the spirit world of the Umbra.

Hearing all of the conversation between the two, Jonas walked ten feet, and went to the door that would lead into the alley. That's all the vamp had to do....go through the door. But the trick was nifty....

Thinking about something, Jonas spoke to the Lasombra.

"Oh, and I mentioned the people I was informing. Well, they were Kindred. And the first two, whose heads I reversed....they were wielding torches and thirty-eights. So, like I said, I was a bonus. They seem to be after the Kindred, though Kindred and Garou have weaknesses in common, so they could hunt both..... So like I said, bonus."

Looking down, Jonas noticed the other vampire. She seemed feral. Probably Gangrel, maybe Brujah. And she was hot. For a cold fish.

"Damn, not bad!"

Jonas turns to the Lasombra.

"You've got vixens like this stalking you!? Wow! What a fan club!"

[Michele Hawkins]

I slowly feel the sides of my cheeks rising in a smile. She always knew the right thing to say to make me feel at ease. I still wasn't fully comfortable around here yet but at least I didn't have to be on stage.

Before I could say thanks, a man who looked out of sorts but held confidence with each stride walked up to Fiona. They knew each other?

I looked to Fiona with a curious stare, wondering who her friend was.

[Sierra]

No longer pinned against the dumpster, I glanced back over my shoulder. Shovelhead there looked like he was about to explode. It was unusual to see a Lasombra so rattled. Hell, it was even more unusual to see one 'stooping so low' as to ask a Lupine for help. Obviously, this was a man on a mission.

“You put that pretty piece of yours away and we'll get to talking about what I heard about the Silver Hand.”

[Fiona Devlin]

:: She kissed Michele on the lips, just as Martin walked up to greet her. She turned, a bit suprised ::

"Martin!!! Glade you made it."

:: she gave Michele's hand a squeeze as she made introductions ::

"Martin Leroux, Michelle Hawkins. Michelle, meet Martin Leroux."

[Ezra Khaine]

Ezra slowly inserted the blade back in the body of the cane. With a twist and a click it was once again just a cane. He looked sideways at the Lupine, "Yes, it would seem I'm quite the attraction," He commented before returning his attention to the woman. He did not utter a word, the last thing he was going to do was stoop even lower and ask her to tell him what she knew. It was either she told him or she did not, and if she did not then he would simply dispatch her and return to his business with the Lupine.

[Martin Le Roux]

“Nice to meet you.” Martin was completely disarming. Everything was quite fine. Relaxing was a good idea, especially since he seemed equally under-dressed. Well, not really. There was an air of purpose about him. But it was wonderful, and Michelle should certainly relax some. Smile shyly. You’re overwhelmed, but its ok, you’ve got nothing to worry about around me. Excellent, we’re getting somewhere.

“Well, I had to be here, after missing last time.” After that complicated business in Berlin, that almost no-one knows about. Martin fumbled through his camera bag as he talked, as if his hands were operated by a separate brain from the rest of him.

“So, Michele, how’d you end up with our friend?” You can tell me however much you want to, but tell me something. If you’re with Fiona you’re important.

[Jason Dreggs]

He waited in the elevator impatiently watching the floor numbers go up and up. God he hated this city more then any other city in the world, Heck New York was ten times better then this place. What he wouldn't do to be back in London or Alexandria Egypt for that matter, but know he was in the forsaken city of Chicago.

Why was he here because the camarilla got it stuck up their butt that they owned this city. In truth the anarchs still reigned, so Jason was here to straighten that all out. Why because his bosses as he like to refer to them as thought he was the best man for the job. The camarilla need a Blow to there ego so why not send in the man who sent the setites packing from Alexandria Egypt perhaps he could do the same to the camarilla.

Finally the dang elevator reached the top floor it was time for Jason to meet the camarilla prince he would be warring against. Of course though this was just a social call so the camarilla prince could size up his new opposition. Jason was prepared for anything camarilla could not be trusted because their motives where always hidden unlike the sabbat whom you could always read like an open book.

[Michele Hawkins]

It was weird. Martin had this aura about him. It was like you knew him for years and were best friends. Very casual. I found it easier to relax, well at least around him. Some people in life just have this gift of helping people to be at ease around them. Course, that could mean they want something from you too. Oh how I know that.

"I was hired as a waitress for the club." My lips curl into an adoring smile. "We just ... hit it off. Y'know?"

I crane my neck to see what he was fumbling for. "You gonna take pictures since you missed Fiona's performance last time?"

[Sierra]

Attraction? I smirked incredulously. I could count what was attractive about a Lasombra on the fingers of a man with no hands. I turned slowly around, figuring that the shovelhead had calmed down for the time being. To be honest, he looked kind of scrawny, though I suppose you don't need to be built when you have the Tzimisce guard dogs on a short leash.

“I was hoping Jonas here might have more of a tip, but I guess we'll just have to go on what I've already learnt. The Silver Hand is one of those organizations who stretch back across time, right into the dark ages. They're a pretty small operation, but they pride themselves on being the best of the best – kind of like your lot,” I said, nodding at Ezra as I leant back against the dumpster.

“Anyway, for a long time they were pretty much a joke, but in the last couple of decades they have started living up to their own hype. There's a rumour going round that they hired in a couple of jaded vamps who got so sick of kindred politics that they flipped out and started kicking the crap out of their own kind. It wouldn't be so bad, only these guys aren't your average ten-a-penny neonates... they've got some serious years behind them, you know? I'm talking like eighth, maybe seventh gen psychotic bastards who can sneak up on you and turn you inside out before you know what's happened to you.”

[Jonas Bellinger]

Jonas looks to the vampire.

"Girl, please.....Seventh gen or eighth? All I have to do is get them in the sunlight. I've clearly got that advantage on them. And the ones I tangoed with were pretty good, but not Kindred good. So, unless the ones I got were ghouls, I don't see how crazy damned Kindred got in this one."

Jonas walked past the two vamps, and rummaged into the dumpster. His nose was right! CHICKEN!!!!!! Taking the almost uneaten bucket of fried chicken, Jonas pulled out a large drumstick and began to chew on it.

"Mmmm, chicken. Finger-lickin' good....Kinda like you...."

Jonas looks over to Sierra at this thought. He then shakes his head...

"If you weren't dead. I'd have to take a lightbulb to you....."

Snickering, Jonas took another bite, and swallowed the previous one, before speaking.

"So, if you know my name, I should know yours, miss. And yours as well, Mr. Lasombra. At least then we'll know who we're working with."

[Ezra Khaine]

A hiss escaped Ezra's lips at the mention of renegade vampires. They where a disgrace and deserved only death. Ezra would gladly suck out their souls. If they had ghouls as well then that would just be more trouble for him. Lasombra had no real use for ghouls. Some Lasombra, namely female ones, used ghouls to do their hair and such. Ezra had found no use for the worthless creatures. He had once employed a pack of them years ago. He had grown sick of them and killed them.

Ezra really did not like the thought of giving his name out, but what would it matter. It was not like he was some high ranking archbishop or something. He was a down on his luck vampire who had lost nearly everything. He had nothing to loose, except his dignity. Pride was the governing feature of all Lasombra and he was not about to let his get trampled. He would go with this for now, but as soon as it was over he would gladly remove the vampire. He did not care as much about the lupine. He had no qualms with the werewolves. They avoided him and he avoided them. A unofficial truce had been struck up a long time ago.

"Ezra Khaine," He said as he tapped the ground with his cane in an impatient manner that was more a reflex then on purpose.

[Sierra]

“Name's Sierra. Introductions over?”

My face twisted in distaste at the Lupine.

“I'm sure you could take 'em without breaking a sweat, but since you ain't in the habit of playing attack dog for us kindred, it don't make a whole lot of difference... anyways, like I said, they got some kindred on their side, as big guns. They'll be the ones who're causing you and me trouble, Khaine. I ain't got no clue where they're shacked up though. I heard some talk from the Nossies that something freaky's been going on in the sewers, but then ain't there always?”

[Martin Le Roux]

“Something like that. Photography is a hobby.” The digital SLR cameras had come far enough to where he was comfortable using them as a substitute for film, and could take pictures as long as the batteries had a charge. Truth told he was trying to get a bead on Chicago’s nitty-gritty again. He had been absent since 1991, and only recently returned from Europe. The Prince, unlike Lodin, was a pawn for the Primogen, occasionally caught in their own schemes and that of highr powers. As a result, his actions were sometimes almost contradictory and mortal politics reflected the Kindred’s own deadlock. Martin, on the other hand, was an interesting but “harmless” outsider with a relatively unknown but extensive network of passive contacts in both Camarilla and Anarch camps. It wasn’t a game so much as an amazing spectacle. It was the art of life, but the more he had learned about the pieces of the moving puzzle, the more it had troubled him.

Michele was striking, but as a companion of Fiona’s, he would leave her be. Fiona had proved invaluable at obtaining certain odd, out of circulation bits and pieces of newspapers and books for Martin’s puzzle over the past three years. Besides, she had mastered the art of conversation in the appropriate language, which was something that always bothered him about the monolingual Americans.

[Jonas Bellinger]

Jonas smiles, tossing the drumstick aside, only after it was clean, the bone gleaming in the dull streetlight. Starting on another, he paused to swallow and rub the grease off of his lips before wiping. Unusual for a Garou, especially a Bone Gnawer, the mangy riff-raff of the streets.

"Yeah. It's most likely either the 'Nossies,' other Bone Gnawers, or the Ratkin....."

Jonas turns back to them.

"But it could be a lead. Even if it is the 'Nossies,' whom you could get info from, or the Ratkin, whom you could also do the same.....the other Bone Gnawers would be hard-pressed, even if I gave them the okay.....Some wouldn't be caught dead workin' with Kindred, but for me, it's all about survival, not about bias. If you can work the crowds, get the necessary info, and the statistic of survival suddenly goes up a bit....."

Taking three more quick bites of the next drumstick, Jonas swallows hard, barely even chewing the large bites.

"The sewers would be a good idea. And for a price, I could go along as a helping hand.......but remember, I'm freelance. I'll help where I can, but I don't take kindly to orders.....I'll even give ya a discount, considering that finding out this info and aiding in the potentially inpending doom of the Silver Hand would be good for myself as well. For you Cammies, it would be 'upholding the Masquerade;' for you Sabbat, getting vengance and the don't screw with us message acrossed; and me? It's about the survival: kickin' the tail off of these bastards would up the survival rate for the Garou, and myself, considerably.....of course, it's a calculated risk....What ya offerin'?"

[Ezra Khaine]

Ezra had learned a long time ago that there was always a price for anything, the trick was just finding out what it was, "Anything you want," Ezra said as he shifted his weight onto his other foot, "I possess enough links, contacts, and operatives to be able to supply you with whatever you desire, outside of supernatural items and being turned into a god," Ezra, like all Lasombra, prided himself on his long list of allies, or rather; servants. In the world of mortals he was a god, despite being a worm in the eyes of his fellow kindred.

He did not like the idea of traveling through the sewers, it tended to mess up his clothing and it was expensive to get slime covered trousers cleaned. But his hate for the Silver Hand was more then enough to compel him to do whatever it took.

[Fiona Devlin]

:: Fiona gave Michele's hand another light tug as she nodded to Martin ::

"Come on. I'd like to get a drink or two before my set."

[Jonas Bellinger]

Jonas smiled. Whatever he wanted, huh?

"Ok, this is simple: a double-extra-large Carnivore's Special from Little Joe's down on Thirty-First street, and a thousand bucks to pimp out my pad. Get me those, and you got a deal. But hold on the pizza until later. You know, as a celebratory meal for the death of the members of the Silver Hand."

[Ezra Khaine]

Ezra had to hide the relief from his face. He reached into his coat and pulled a wallet made of a strange grey material that looked too organic to be leather. He fished around in the wallet and pulled out ten one-hundred dollar bills and offered them to Jonas, "There’s your money and I'll get you that pizza when this is all finished," If we live, he added mentally. Ezra turned to face Sierra, "Do you require any payment, anything at all?" He was starting to warm up to the girl, but warming up was not something that came naturally to a vampire, in more ways then one. He was, in fact, willing to give anything. The drug business had been good these last few years. Ezra just wanted to kill those Silver Hand bastards. Money, for once, did not matter.

[Jonas Bellinger]

Jonas took the new cash and smiled....Turning away from the two vampires, Jonas rolls the cash up and puts it into his mouth, swallowing it whole, without getting it wet with saliva. Focusing on the spiritual energies with him, Jonas opened up his other stomach: the one on the plane of the Umbra. The money fell there, waiting for when Jonas would need it....

He covered the swallow with a cough and a sneeze, before cramming his hands into his jacket, to 'place the money' in an inside pocket that did exist, though the money was already gone.

Turning back around, Jonas smiled.

"Good. Now that business is out of the way, it's time for the research and development portion of the job."

[Michele Hawkins]

"Yes." I actually found myself enthused that Martin would be joining us. "You can tell me how you two met."

We take over the corner by the bar and ordered our drinks. I just get a soda tho. Not much of a drinker anymore except for special occasions. Plus, I doubt burly bartender thinks I'm twenty-one.

[Fiona Devlin]

:: Fiona orders herself a rum & coke as they sit ::

"Martin and I met in '74 ..."

:: She smiled, allowing Martin to take the story ::

[Martin Le Roux]

"Well, I follow Chicago's history as a hobby." He had ordered wine, one of the few things he could keep down besides the normal. Actually, he still enjoyed wine. Martin took a sip and continued.

"I wandered into Fiona's book shop. She had some very interesting material. I was so excited I began to mutter to myself in French. Fiona rung me up, and said "Je vous ai offert bonsoir." It had been months since I'd heard a word of it and we spent the better part of an hour discussing each other's interest. We have something of a game of playing with languages. She usually wins, though."

Martin a little sheepishly at Fiona, who was still a bit of an engima. Hopefully the reverse was also true.

[Michele Hawkins]

"Well, I'm jealous." I chuckle lightly. "At least you can understand what the hell she's going on about."

Then I elbow Fiona playing in the side. "I swear she's always talking about me behind my back."

[Fiona Devlin]

"Iiiieee!"

:: Fiona laughs and nudges back playfully in self-defense ::

[Martin Le Roux]

Martin shook his head, still smiling.

"No, most of the time she makes things up." He said, winking at Michele.

[Michele Hawkins]

I blush and sip at my soda. "So, how is it that Chicago became a hobby for you, Martin?"

[Martin Le Roux]

Martin took a little while to answer.

"It's, well, interesting. New York has always had a busy atmosphere, but Chicago has a focus to it that attracted me. Besides, after New York's jazz phase, Chicago has had better local music." He explained.

[Sierra]

Originally posted by Ezra Khaine
Ezra turned to face Sierra, "Do you require any payment, anything at all?"

I smirk. “Just the satisfaction of kicking the crap out of these nuts when we do find them.”

The Lupine turns around and I nod. “So what's the plan? Some recon in the sewers? Maybe I can hook up with a couple of old Nossie pals of mine. Can't say they'll be completely happy to help,” I pause, looking sidelong at Ezra, “but maybe we can come to some kinda deal.”

[Ezra Khaine]

"No," Ezra said as he turned away and looked up at the cloudy night sky, "No others. More people will just make things confusing and confusion can kill," He turned back, "Yes, we'll scout out the sewers, but first, I think we should arm ourselves. I don't think my little cane sword is going to be of much use against the weapons of the Silver Hand. I have an apartment not too far away. I have weapons hidden there and a... Ally who can help us," With that said he turned and strode away without even looking to see if they where following him. As much as he hated to lead them to current hideout, it was a must because he knew that one flimsy sword between the three of them would not be enough to combat the Silver Hand.

A half out later they walked up to an old apartment building. They entered through the creaking doors and took the stairs up to the third floor. Ezra's room turned out to be number 9 and the door had quite a strong lock on it. Ezra pulled out a odd looking key and unlocked the door, "Right in here," He said and pushed the door open.

The room was dark, even after the light was turned on. It was quite bare except for a bed, dresser, and several large boxes. The windows where covered with thick drapes and there was not a reflective surface to be seen, "Tzar!" Ezra called and as he said it the bathroom door opened and a horrifying figure walked in. It was a ghoul, but a Lasombra ghoul. It wore a shabby looking black business suit with scuffed up shoes. A hood covered move of its head and a featureless white mask covered it's face. Most ghouls were hunched over or at least slightly bent at the back, but this one stood tall and proud with its arm at its side. The image it created was more of a butler then a monster of the night, “A gift from my old master,” Ezra said as he walked over to one of the crates and pried the lid off, “Quite a unique ghoul. Most intelligent one I’ve ever known. Quite useful,” He finished before pulling a long object from the box. It was a 12-gauge shotgun, “Do you use weapons, Jonas?” He asked as he nodded his head towards the boxes, “I have guns, knives, swords, and even a few hand grenades. All illegally gained, of course.

He set the shotgun down on his bed and turned back to the crate again. This time he pulled out an AK-47. He slid a clip gracefully into place, “Take anything that suits your fancy. Because, believe me, your going to need it.”

[Jason Dreggs]

Dang elevator's took to long what was with this princes and living on the top floor. All of them even this Peterson guy he was suppose to meet had a thing for heights. Maybe it was cause they got to look down on all the little people he didn't know for sure but that was what he was thinking.

He thoughts then drifted to Egypt for a moment. Although he was honored amongst the anarchs as the man that drove the setites out of Alexandria he couldn't help but think of all those that played even bigger parts then him. Those that got little or no credit. He also thought for the moment of the dirty deeds himself had to do get the setites out, especially the deal with the Camarilla he helped set up. Then got royally screwed on in the end but still his fellow anarchs in Alexandria honored him why he had to wonder for moment.

He knew he had originally been sent to Alexandria as sort of a death warrant yet in the end he made out big. His master had abandoned him and the anarchs had no Idea what to do with him so they sent him there to fight for them and hopefully die for them. Yet here he was in Chicago now going to visit a prince on behalf of the anarch bosses he served. No doubt this meeting would be interesting. The elevator finally hit the top floor and the doors slide open it was time to face his new competition he guessed as he stepped out into the entrance hall.

[Jonas Bellinger]

Jonas gazed at the weapons, almost drooling. Almost. Smiling, Jonas turned his attention to Ezra.

"Not really. Some weapons incumber when shape-shifting.....But I am in the market for a nice, high-frequency, lazer-sharpened katana.... If you happen to have one, or two, laying around, I'd be more than glad to take 'em off your hands....."

Looking around at the other weapons, amongst all of these, Jonas picked up two Desert Eagle .50AE magnums, the holsters, and then, six clips on a belt. Strapping them on, Jonas smiled as he checked the sights. He almost thought of firing off a shot, to test the sights, but he figured it was probably accurate enough for a hand cannon.....Jonas puts back on his jacket, and grins that toothy, wolfish grin.

"I'm ready to go when you guys are."

[Ezra Khaine]

Erza went rummaging through several crates before emerging with the desired blade in his hand, "An old favorite," He said he pulled the Katana from its sheath, "Quite old but still very sharp," He handed the weapon over to Jonas. Ezra took the AK-47 and several extra clips for it. A knife and scabbard were attached to his belt along with a rapier. He grabbed a single hand grenade and the last Desert Eagle he had, "Anything for you, princess?" He asked as he strapped his hand gun on.

[Sierra]

The fact that the Lasombra was keeping a malformed freakshow of a ghoul didn't surprise me. Those haughty types always had their minions on hand to do their dirty work. I watched as the walking carpet armed himself to the teeth.

“You really need all of that? Figured you would be able to do more damage with your little finger than with ten of those,” I said, nodding at the sword he'd just been handed.

I smirk at Khaine asks if there's anything I need. “I don't play with knives, but this...” I picked out a SIG X-Five and a couple of magazines, stashing them in my shoulder bag. “This I can do. Let's go.”

[Fiona Devlin]

:: Fiona was lured to the dancefloor by the music, knowing that Michele would be safe in Martin's company. She danced, uninhibited by the fact that she was surrounded by several Kindred ::

(I hear the roar of a big machine
two worlds and in between
hot metal and methedrine
I hear empire down
I hear empire down

I hear the roar of a big machine
two worlds and in between
love lost, fire at will
dum-dum bullets and shoot to kill, I hear
dive, bombers and
empire down
empire down

I hear the sons of the city and dispossessed
get down, get undressed
get pretty, but you and me
we got the kingdom, we got the key
we got the empire, now as then
we don't doubt, we don't take direction
Lucretia, my reflection, dance the ghost with me

we look hard
we look through
we look hard to see for real
such things I hear, they don't make sense
I don't see much evidence
I don't feel
I don't feel

I don't feel

a long train held up by page on page
a hard reign held up by rage
once a railroad
now it's done

I hear the roar of a big machine
two worlds and in between
hot metal and methedrine
I hear empire down

we got the empire, now as then
we don't doubt, we don't take reflection
Lucretia, my direction, dance the ghost with me)

[Ezra Khaine]

Ezra dropped the AK-47 and the rapier into a black bag and slung it over his shoulder. The ghoul, Tzar, donned a black trench coat and followed after Ezra as they left the building. He locked the door behind them and then headed outside. It was very dark outside now, but that was not a problem for the four. All vampires had good night vision and the Lupine could smell his way through the darkness. It was not apparent if the ghoul even possessed eyes but he followed behind them all the same.

A half hour later they were standing over a manhole in the middle of a deserted street. According to Sierra's information the Silver Hand were spotted frequently in this area and it was only logical that this was their exit. Ezra reached down and pried the manhole cover and tossed it aside with an ease that did not appear possible, "Let’s go," He said and then dropped down the hole. The three others followed soon after him, "Smell anything Jonas?"

[Jonas Bellinger]

Jonas smirks at him.

Yep..... Crap. And the occaisonal puddle of urine or pile of puke....."

Jonas takes a few steps forward.

"It may be difficult for me to smell things out. The smells are a bit overwhelming down here. Picking them out, sorting through them may take some time...."

Taking a minute or two to smell the air without actually sniffing it, merely breathing it, Jonas looks about as he gets a whiff of leather. Leather? In the sewer? And it wasn't anyone else in the party. Sure, they were wearing leather, but the smell had already been taken into account. And then another whiff. Of blood. Jonas starts forward, motioning with his hands.

"This way."

As he started forward, he spoke quietly to Ezra.

"When this is said and done, Ezra, can I keep the blade and guns? I'll take some out of my payment, if you wish.....They are quite nice...."

OOC: My apologies......thought I did edit them before I posted them. My mistake.

[Ezra Khaine]

"Keep them, think of it as a gift between friends," Ezra replied as he looked through the darkness. To his vampire eyes it was like being in the sunlight, although things were not bright colors and everything was kind of shades of gray, there was not any color down here anyways. They rounded a corner and came face to face with a startled man. The man did not even get a chance to cry out or raise his rifle before a tentacle like appendage reached out of the darkness and wrapped around his throat and snapped it like a twig. The Abyssal hand retreated back into the darkness and returned to its proper place in the abyssal realm. He noticed the look on Jonas' face, obviously it was something he had never seen before, "Nothing to worry about, just one of the many... gifts bestowed upon the Lasombra Clan. Now let’s see what this chap was up to," He crouched down and picked up the dead man's rifle. He pulled the clip out of the gun and looked down at the visible bullet at the top, "Mmmhmm, thought so. Silver bullets..." He stopped as he pulled the top bullet out and discovered it was not silver. He checked the next few bullets, "A silver bullet every four standard rounds. It would appear that the Silver Hand does not possess the funds to arm its warriors with entire clips of silver. This is a good thing; it means they are not as powerful as we thought. Let’s move on."

[Michele Hawkins]

"Hmm. I do enjoy jazz but my heart is classical. That's my passion." I know I sounded distracted and I really didn't mean to be rude, but it was obvious I turned nervous again. I was cut off from my social mouth piece who was now busy dancing.

[Jonas Bellinger]

Jonas, after seeing the display, shook his head.

"And I thought I was the demented one......you make me look sane, my man."

Continuing forward, Jonas grumbled.

"I wanted a piece of him.....And standard rounds still hurt....."

Looking back to Ezra, Jonas smiles.

"That trick of yours must make you the life of the sexy parties....."

[Jason Dreggs]

Jason walked into Peterson's dimly lit office. Peterson was standing at his mini bar poring to glasses of scotch. He didn't even turn to look at Jason but knew he was already there.

Peterson: " Your late mister Dreggs?"

"I can't help it my plane arrived late and your elevator takes so dam long."

Peterson: " You shouldn't keep a prince waiting you know that."

"Sorry I'm not one for camarilla politics."

Jason was surprisingly calm for being face to face with the prince of Chicago. He didn't have any fear of this man because he figured him to be nothing more then a puppet witch was usually the case for most princes.

"Well I'm here to present myself as all anarchs have to in this foul city. So you know me and my face can I leave I got other business to attend to?"

Peterson: "Have a drink with me first, indulge me for a bit will you?"

"What kind of game is this?"

Peterson: "No game, I just want to know which rumors about you are true and which are false?"

Peterson walked up to Jason then and handed him one of the glasses. Peterson had a smug grin on his face as he stared into Jason’s eyes for a moment.

"Well as you can now tell one of the rumors is false that I diablorized my master. I don't have the eye's that are a tall tail sign."

Peterson: "So now I know you where a 6th gen by birth, witch is kind of odd don't you think.”?

"Stranger things have happened you know that Peterson."

Peterson: "So which rumor is true Jason did your master diablorize her own or was there an actual curse with her own master."

"I don't know and even if I did I wouldn't tell you cause it's none of your business. I am what I am so deal with it."

Jason set down his glass on Peterson’s desk with out taking a sip of it.

"You know I'm here you know what I look like and now are business is concluded."

Peterson: "Don't cause any trouble while you’re in my city and don't think you can pull half the stunts you did in Alexandria Mr. dreggs. We will be watching you."

"I wouldn't have it any other way Peterson."

With that Jason left the princes chamber and after another long elevator ride he hit the streets of Chicago.

[Sierra]

I follow in silence behind the pair, covering their exposed backs, as Jonas's nose leads the way. The sewer was rank, but I was used to it. The Wolf Pack had dealings with the Nossies now and then, and I had a few contacts in the warrens on the south of the city. I spent a lot of my mortal life on the streets and it hasn't changed much since I 'died', so I don't mind the grime as much as others might. I'm not much shocked by the Lasombra's display of power, those his uttering the words 'a gift between friends' makes me smirk. Lasombra aren't friends with anyone besides themselves – and especially not with Lupines. As if Jonas would need this guys friendship anyway.

[Ezra Khaine]

"Yes, but only the best parties," Ezra commented on before standing up and moving down the hall again. Now he held his rifle tightly in his hands. Although he had the abyss' forces to call on and attack with, he still preferred to use mortal weapons. They tended to be more reliable, "Smell anything stronger yet, Jonas?" He asked as they turned as he looked down the tunnel. It stretched off for miles, or so it looked, and there were pipes that split off from it as well. It would take weeks to search them all.

[Jonas Bellinger]

Jonas stopped, sniffing visibly. He knelt to the soiled and dank cement ground, gathering the aromas, most not so pleasant, in his nose. The unpleasantry of the scents didn't bother Jonas; born a Lupus, smells were more along the lines of sensations then pains, ans were thus beyond the feeling of disgust. It was just another unusual patterns of scent. He could smell distinct things. Leather, a waterproofing agent, oil from the guns, the different tangs of the metals off of weapons and off of the pipes that ran throughout the myriad tunnels, and......a slight blankness, a lack of certain scents, namely skin, hair, perspiration..... Crap. Jonas spoke quietly.

"This could be a problem. We could be walking into an eventual trap. They're using a Scent-a-Way bodywash. I can't smell the natural scents. I can only smell what they're carrying. And it's lots of metal weapons, and some involving oil, most likely gun oil for lubrication in the chambers....."

Taking another deep sniff, Jonas got more scents: gunpowder unignited, gasoline, kerosine, and silver. An audible growl escaped him. They were definetly using silver, though it was in small traces, like Ezra thought. But one of them had a good bit of it on them. The smell lingered still, concentrated instead of spread out like the latter scents. Maybe a sword or something else silver. They seemed to be hunting for creatures with the weaknesses of silver and flames with the ignitable substances, and using a scent eliminator said that they were smart enough to realize that they were working against things with a superior sense of smell. Namely either the more bestial of Kindred, such as the Gangrel, or a Garou or the other shape-changers that worked on scent. Either way, the combination boded badly for the three. But Jonas did get a definite trace: it seemed to come from the east. Jonas smiled. The group was methodical: they rose in the east, with the sun.....the flames of their weapons would be powered with the sun. Definetly a Kindred-hunting group. The Garou was a complication. He was a complication. And, oh, how he loved to complicate things......

"Well, we go east, where the sun, and the hunters, rise.......This is definetly a bunch of slayers of the Kindred. They may be expecting Garou, but with the scents going to the east, they are lairing with the sun, and that makes them Kindred hunters. Garou aren't xenophobic.....we don't go cripsy, though we can burn with flames. These guys are using kerosine and gasoline, maybe flamethrowers of Molotovs. So we approach with caution....."

[Ezra Khaine]

Ezra nodded his head, agreeing completely with the Garou's diagnosis of the situation, "We have no choice. We either leave and come back later or we eliminate them here and now. Personally I'd rather remove them now then wait for them to kill me in my sleep.

"You have no fear of fire or light, so it will be up to you to confront anyone weilding or standing near either, while It shall be our..." He motioned to himself and the female vampire, "...job to deal with anyone wielding silver," He turned away and looked down the way they had come, "Tzar!" He yelled and at once the odd Ghoul appeared, walking in a near march as it came to it's master's bidding. The ghoal removed it's trench coat as it sensed the battle to come, "My Ghoul can fight and take a considerable amout of damage. I think you and Tzar should lead our group. Tzar is quick, agile, and strong, for a Ghoul, and your sense of smell will always keep us one step ahead. Is that agreeable?"