Alain Roche removed the ear-piece. No anger, just silence. It had taken quite a while to place the five microphones in Leick's throne room. The conversation and encounter with Airegon left him pensive. So Cray, you have found a way to monitor me. I wonder if you know the extent to which I monitor you? Cray now knows that I know - wheels within wheels. But which one of us can draw the tighter circle ? Alain thought for a while, then the next step came into mind. He would disappear, along with the chosen few. Cray would be left with enough information to draw the conclusion that he had been drawn back to Japan to reclaim a debt of honor (but suspect that Alain was a coward). Within the hour he would be gone, no trace of his existence would remain. Everything would be stripped. He needed time to prepare for the onslaught. He needed an amulet from Tencho his old teacher and mentor; it would cause Cray pain, just enough for him to dampen his reaction, wits, or expend energy fighting it. Tonight, in two hours, not one but two of the safe-houses would be vaporized - a leaking gas main would be the cause. But first he would send word to meet with Frost. He needed to know what his game-play would be. Alain sighed, tonight would be the start of his final journey... - End of Post. Alain Roche, Tremere Primogen. Frost stared out the window of the apartment down to the street below. The sidewalks glistened with rainwater that had fallen sometime during the day. Alain Roche had invited him to his headquarters; Frost didn't know what to make of it. He knew he had to go. But he still intended to be careful. As a Primogen, Roche might be inclined to kill Frost just because the Prince didn't like him. Roche might be more interested in throwing Frost into a pit of rats than talking. Either way he would have Masamune with him and if any trouble started he knew just what to do. Frost had dealt with these ninja types before. Caution was the only way to go. Surprise, however, was also important. He'd burst in the front to make a real impression. Roche was only the first of many things to be done. Frost had already sent Rachelle to get Hammond, Nalal and anyone else willing to help. Soon Frost was going to go see Cochrane. As much as Frost disliked the man he knew that Sabbat forces could be useful in a battle. He also knew the dark man was the one pulling Cochrane's strings. Cochrane might just kill him. Frost had to take the chance. Frost looked up at the wall clock. Nearly midnight. He had to go see Roche now. He picked up Masamune and the Glock that was beside it. He put the gun in the pocket of his coat... just in case. He hoped Roche would tell him something pleasant, but he wasn't taking any chances. - End of Post. Fredrick Frost, Caitiff. Alain Roche sat alone in the "tatami" room. Upon the wall the electronic sensor beeped. Twisting his wrist, he pressed the remote on the floor. The security system would be disengaged. There would be no need to cause Frost irritation, or at the worst nonexistence. He wondered why the Kindred were so slow in the uptake of modern technology - maybe their lack of respect for Kine. Alain was cautious of Frost, he knew that Frost merely saw him as some ninja wanabe. But then again, what did he expect from those who had never been there? He remained silent, almost in a state of meditation, with his back to the sliding door. The door Frost would come through. The Zen scripture formed in his mind - beginnings are such delicate times; times where offense, mistrust and hatred might fester when there was no need for some. The sliding door opened. Hard shoes on the mat - Frost. Anyone of his house or Japanese would have taken off their shoes. Alain remained calm, no tensing of the shoulders, simply with a gentleness of welcoming he uttered, "Welcome Frost, please be seated." With his eyes shut he delved deep within; a picture of a sword and a pistol came to mind. "Frost, we are not enemies here - please, on an oath of my ancestors, display your weapons. Fear of each other would only cloud our minds. I hope that we will both come to realize that we would be of use to each other." Alain heard the placement of the weapons on the mat. Slowly Alain turned, still seated, to face Frost. For the first time he would be able to see the measure of the Cainite. He liked what he saw. There were lines of experience (pain) and a shielding of the eyes. Alain did not attempt to probe the mind; that would be too much of a dishonor. Alain smiled, carefully, he removed a dagger from his sleeve. Offered it to Frost. "In Japan, a long time ago, it was the custom of the honoured guest to receive a gift from his host. This was once given to me by someone very special. I offer it to you." (The blade had been given to him by Nikko's father - looking at it now, its delicate, gentle form still brought a little pain to him.) Alain continued to smile. "Can I have an oath of silence upon what we discuss here?" Frost consented. "We are now bound by an oath, that neither of us can break - I intend to kill Cray and, if need be, Leick. I do not do it for power, but because there is one hell of a battle coming up. It could be the doom of every undead being in this town. A similar power struggle took place when I was in Japan; it nearly destroyed us all. I know I have loyalty to the Prince, but there is a greater loyalty for the Tremere and that is to all of us. I need your help - but first we must be seen to oppose each other, even to hate each other. Therefore, I propose that before you leave you injure me with your sword." Alain paused. The shadow in the room did not allow him see Frost's face. He continued; "Not enough for me not to heal quickly, but enough for the trace to be picked up on your blade, so should anyone doubt our mutual hatred, our encounter would be signaled. Furthermore, I propose that we taste each other's blood." Quickly Alain continued, "There is an ancient rite, that I have found, that requires this. It makes sure that our oath here tonight is bound, furthermore when we confront either Leick or Cray, or anyone else it will give us one hell of an edge... "So Frost, here it is - do we combine?" It was then, outside, that it started to rain. - End of Post. Alain Roche, Tremere Primogen. She was a failure. She could not succeed in the one thing that she had planned. It had taken her such a long time to plan everything to make her family and keep them at bay. It had been exhausting work and it had all failed. Why Rutger hadn't killed her was beyond her knowledge. It made no sense to her yet again she owed him her life. It was too much for her to take now. Collapsing within racking sobs crimson tears flowed down her face over her lips. "You need your rest," a voice told her. "What? Who are..." "Get some rest, stop crying and go to sleep," the voice commanded. "We'll take care of Rutger and Rachelle Proulx... don't you worry" - End of Post. Airegon, Brujah. Airegon had seen Frost; he was back. She had called out to him and he hadn't even looked her way. Was it her imagination or did he speed up when she called? That did not matter now though - now she had to do what the voice told her. But she needed a plan first, and a big one because there was no way she could do this on her own. "Yes you can. I'll help you." It was the voice again... so far she had been doing what it told her to do. She had followed Frost. But this was too much; she couldn't do this, she was a failure. She couldn't do anything right. "I want his sword Airegon. Bring me the Masamune." This she would try and fight... - End of Post. Airegon, Brujah. Tempest stood in his apartment; he felt another Kindred entering and he was ready to kill. A knock came at the door. "Enter," Tempest called, curious. Blackthorn appeared at the door and Tempest turned to face the man he hated with all his being. "I have warned you to leave," he growled. "I know," Blackthorn nodded, a haunted look in his eyes, "but there is something bigger than our hatred in this town, and it is a danger to us both as well as every other Kindred. In order to survive we must ally ourselves." "What is it that worries you enough to come here and ask me to ally with you?" Tempest wondered. "A great evil has been lurking beneath these streets, and the death of the old Prince has freed it." "What proof have you of these claims?" Blackthorn reached into his jacket and removed a large tome with a book mark in it. Tempest flipped to the marked page and read. He looked up suddenly, gone paler than usual. "It is decided," he agreed without pause. "We must join forces and find any others that know and plan to fight this." Blackthorn reached again into his jacket and pulled forth a great sword and offered it to Tempest. "The item I took from you to start this; I hope it will also end it." Tempest reached forth and took the weapon. He held it in his hand and tested the balance. "Thank you," he said softly. "I too will give you something to end this." He walked over to a large chest in a shadowed corner of the room and lifted the lid. He then removed something wrapped in silk and handed it to the large Gangrel. Blackthorn accepted the item and unwrapped it, drawing forth a small amulet. "What does it do?" he asked, sensing its power. "It allows you to teleport to anywhere within a two thousand foot distance of where you stand," Tempest informed his new ally. "It will also create a telepathic link between the two of us, for as long as you are wearing it." "Thank you," Blackthorn said without the edge in his voice he had held for the whole conversation. "I will attempt to find any others that will share our cause." - End of Post. Tempest, Gangrel. Frost looked at Roche for a moment. He could feel his green eyes beginning to glow gently. He liked this guy. Very honest, brutally honest even - very rare qualities in a Kindred. Frost could feel that Roche was trustworthy, he was one of those "word is my bond" sort of saps. His idea, though, had some very serious problems. "I will agree to your proposition," said Frost gently. "But first there are some things that you must know. I don't think either of us fully understands the extent of Cray's power. When I felt his presence it was the second strongest I have ever known. The strongest came from a Kindred more ancient than recorded history. The coming conflict also is of more consequence than either of us could ever imagine; Kindred and Kine alike will be affected. The fate of Earth's future itself lies in our hands." He paused for a moment. "It will be a battle like no other, and I would value your help." He looked at Roche whose expression had not changed. "Now let us proceed." - End of Post. Fredrick Frost, Caitiff. Channel 5 News flash: (Presenter looks flustered.) "Tonight in the Japanese quarter two houses exploded. Firemen and ambulances are right now at the scene. So far no reports of casualties. Local inhabitants complained of gas leaks over two weeks ago to the city authority. Nothing had been done. Police sources at present suspect no foul play. "For the full news, other stories and further development catch the news on the hour, every hour." Alain Roche, turned off the television and smiled. "Your move Cray." Alain felt more positive, he had just talked to Frost. - End of Post. Alain Roche, Tremere Primogen. What? How long had Nalal been asleep? He sat up with a start, his body weak and stiff. His final retreat onto the astral plane had apparently left him in a deep state of torpor. How many days (weeks?) had passed in this condition? From all the Toreador knew from his travels and its effects on his frail inhuman body, he was aware that this time he was lucky he had awoken at all. Next time it might be otherwise. But what choice did he have? He had seen the pathways, had traversed the long roads of time. What lay ahead was more important than one Bulgarian vampire and the end of his two hundred fifty some odd years of existence. It was the end of the city he saw. The end of mortal kind, and perhaps, of the Kindred. The only thing that kept him cautious was the reminder that only he knew fully what was before them. If he died, the knowledge died with him. Why hadn't he been able to contact Rutger in time to warn him of the evil he was unleashing? Actually Nalal knew the answer: he had been on another plane for too long, had not awoken in time. The longer Nalal spent on the astral level of existence, the harder it was to come back. In truth he never fully did arrive in this reality any more. By now, Nalal was constantly in contact with the ethereal fabric of space-time that unfolded in strands before him. He could only hope that enough of him still existed here to make a difference. Time. Funny thing really. The past phased into existence before Nalal, and he gave a grudgingly wry smile at the far-off picture that appeared there. Was that really him? Nalal found it hard to believe that the cocky, brash student of just a year or so ago was the same person looking back at it now. Nalal watched as he casually slaughtered a couple in a car, drank their blood, and drove the car off a cliff. Such callous attitude towards human life... He had still been a child then, no matter how old his body may have been. The last twenty months had been a slap in the face, a rude awakening for Nalal. he was no longer that person. He wasn't sure he was even a person at all these days. That was just before the cursed Crystal of Darkness came to town, Nalal sighed in sadness. If he had known then what he knew now... But enough of that self-indulgence. The past shifted, became the future. That road, that unstable tunnel that appeared and disappeared at will. That was the only path that led to redemption, and it was not at all a sure one. Whoever started down it may find it collapsing around them, smothering them with the weight of its destiny. Nalal daren't even send his mind down that narrow road any more. Too many footfalls and its dangerous side-effects might take hold. A knock sounded suddenly at the door, causing Nalal's head to snap over in its direction. There would be a time when the door did not exist. Nalal simply looked at that stage in the door's existence, effectively seeing through it. Frost's messenger. Of course, it was that time already. Frost was going to (correction: had already - tenses are so hard to get right) send for those he thought could help him defeat the unspeakable evil that roamed the streets. He was partially right. There's just one he had forgotten, and if Nalal told him who then it would all come undone. It would happen. All would come into the light given time (time!) - it had to. For all their sakes. - End of Post. Nalal, Toreador. Posted by Rutger Leick. Standing in the corner of the throne room, back behind the ornate chair which was the focus of the large hall, Hope Chitcka watched with growing hatred as the big Brujah played his power games. She remembered how he had despised this type of behavior from Alexander Laplace, and now Leick was displaying most of the same behavioral patterns as the damned Toreador had. Maybe it was just a phase, Hope said to herself. Maybe he'll grow out of it... In all the rush of power and glory, Leick had mostly forgotten Hope. They had had a deal, they two, and now the Brujah seemed to have forgotten all about it. True, he had set the plan in motion before his rise to power. Even now, the Assamite assassin was on his way to new Chelsea (may even have been here already!) and was plotting the murder of Shandrill Moorhar. For a short moment Hope's loathing angled back towards her sister. When Cheyenne saw her best friend in all the world, that sister-stealing bitch Shandrill, decaying to dust and bones at her feet, then she'd know what it felt like to lose someone so close to you. When Cheyenne had left London with nary a word to Hope, sailing off for distant shores with a demented vampire she hardly knew, it had wounded Hope deeply. She'd have her revenge. Cheyenne would feel the loss, and know that Hope was responsible. At least, that was the plan. Hope had no way of knowing now how the situation was progressing. Leick had too much on his mind (mostly himself) to look after the situation. Why help her after all? He had gotten what he needed from her - her help in overthrowing Laplace. He didn't even seem to want her Blood Oath any more (just one more taste of the Prince's blood and they'd be Bound now). Why would he, when he had fifty odd Kindred in the city ready to bow down and kiss his dirty feet? Once again Hope felt abandoned, discarded like an old rag which had outlived its usefulness. What was it about her? Why did everyone that she associated with get rid of her like this? Not that she cared about Leick, not really. He was brutal, callous, cold and distasteful. Which, come to think of it, were all qualities Hope admired in a man. But he was too removed now from his emotions, too caught up in his role as Prince to be a vampire any more. He all but ignored his Childe and lover, Sherilyn Massee, now. Where the hell was she anyway? Hope didn't hate him. Not really. But she wished someone might teach him a lesson, bring the big-headed jerk back down to reality for a while. As much as Hope liked to work alone (you can't trust other people, this she had learned) perhaps it was time to seek help on this one. Find someone willing to give Rutger a metaphorical slap in the face. Hope smiled to herself. That's what she'd do. There was bound to be someone in town with half a mind to give the Prince a taste of his own medicine. Maybe a Malkavian coterie... Whatever, whoever, Hope would seek this out. It was payback time, for Leick and for Cheyenne. For once, just once, the world would turn Hope's way. She'd come out on top, whatever the cost. Just once... - End of Post. Hope Chitcka, Ventrue. Posted by Rutger Leick.