(That they don't realize is a decoy.)
Panopticon: A Game of Posthumans, Perniciousness, Paranoia, Politics, and Plasmaguns
I thought Jamelia's body was just Jamelia's body?
So we'd have Nichol's decoy for that body, which would then be swapped for a decoy of Jameliabot. Swapping a decoy for a decoy of a decoy?
So we'd have Nichol's decoy for that body, which would then be swapped for a decoy of Jameliabot. Swapping a decoy for a decoy of a decoy?
Winged One
Not the Simurgh
- Location
- definitely the ground
- Pronouns
- They/Them/It
Or are we swapping for the actual Jamelia Bot so she/it can be a surprise?
Ivan the Not-so-Terrible
AH MEW CHEEKI BREEKI I V DAMKE
- Location
- Mikonyan’s USSR
The decoy wants to swap a decoy for the decoy. Right.
Nope, Jamelia-Bot has stated (or agreed with) that her memory core should be destroyed if it looks like The Enemy is going to capture her. Now, putting a HIT Mark (or Progenitor combat construct) that looks like Jamelia in as the decoy would be fun, but I don't think there's a clean one around.
Winged One
Not the Simurgh
- Location
- definitely the ground
- Pronouns
- They/Them/It
Upon thinking about it, that's just common sense considering her lack Mind 2.
Chloe Sullivan
Subdefective
- Location
- 1630 Revello Drive, Sunnydale CA
Wasn't a major plot element in the last piece the fact that Alice has no correspondenc?
notanautomaton
I've got 99 quests, I've finished one
This is Alicia, Serafina's imaginary friend/friend from Damien/Avatar. She can teleport because she isn't real.
Chloe Sullivan
Subdefective
- Location
- 1630 Revello Drive, Sunnydale CA
Oh, my bad. But how is she teleporting Serafina out then? Can avatars cast sphere magic?
- Location
- Singapore
Alicia, since she's Serafina's Avatar (and IIRC Serafina has Manifest Avatar) has all of Serafina's spheres. So yes.
notanautomaton
I've got 99 quests, I've finished one
She doesn't teleport her out. The only way she teleports is in. Now, in my plan Alicia calls Serafina and gets her to teleport out to her, which I feel works better.
Jaron gets full marks for deciding to solve his pain-in-the-ass mission with the most reasonable and Gordian Knot-iest solution of them all.
And as a bonus, he actually gets to complete TYRANT's original purpose in one fell swoop! How efficient.
Their heaviest fighter is equal to or superior to an Iteration X exojock. Her Spheres are good at combat with Forces and Entropy, and Time and Mind (does it take Mind 2 to get split actions, or just Mind 1?) increases her volume of fire. But that's it. That's their strongest frontline fighter.
And while it might help a lot because Donald's only defense would be Rose and so more firepower is welcome, I'm just pointing out that "The Tyrants totally have the firepower to deal with ANATHEMA on their own" sounds a little optimistic to me.
And as a bonus, he actually gets to complete TYRANT's original purpose in one fell swoop! How efficient.
The Tyrant with the heaviest straight-combat augs is about equal to Kessler, to an Iteration X exojock.
"Heavy combat unit, equivalent/possibly superior to Iteration X exojocks."
Their heaviest fighter is equal to or superior to an Iteration X exojock. Her Spheres are good at combat with Forces and Entropy, and Time and Mind (does it take Mind 2 to get split actions, or just Mind 1?) increases her volume of fire. But that's it. That's their strongest frontline fighter.
And while it might help a lot because Donald's only defense would be Rose and so more firepower is welcome, I'm just pointing out that "The Tyrants totally have the firepower to deal with ANATHEMA on their own" sounds a little optimistic to me.
notanautomaton
I've got 99 quests, I've finished one
I don't want them to beat it. I want them to hold it off until its systems start to shut down from operating on earth and/or reinforcements arrive. Because alone, Donald and Rose cannot hold that thing off.
It's got a LOT of capacity for paradox. Paradox-tapping it is not going to work that easily.
I'm just looking to keep Donald and Rose alive.
Sarpedon
Knight Errant
- Pronouns
- He/Him
This is a terrible Idea because now the Computer knows that the NWO knows. This is bad.
- Location
- in the trash
It would be a better idea, if LA wasn't currently being invaded by vampires, ghost zombies, Panopticon, and possibly also Subjugation Corps. (who may suddenly show up to abduct people, and plasma everything)
The lab isn't under attack now, so it's probably the safest place she can be in.
Yes, I am in fact speculating that a Kessler level combatant+5 other Enlightened, (mostly) combat rated cyborgs (not to mention, the interns and Rose) actually have enough firepower to kill it. The Anathema isn't that tough.
I didn't say it would be easy or casualty free, did I?
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Winged One
Not the Simurgh
- Location
- definitely the ground
- Pronouns
- They/Them/It
Isn't it more the type of thing to destroy LA when it finally suffers Paradox?
notanautomaton
I've got 99 quests, I've finished one
But she isn't there. The intern scanned the room for lifesigns, and didn't find any. So she's either dead, out of the lab, or is blocking scans for some reason. Out of the three of those, I feel like out of the lab is the most likely and least bad.
It's the type to slink away and try to pick people off before it finally dies.
Quantumboost
Now with 50% more dots in Dimensional Science
- Location
- Ensemble Space
Considering that Avatars are definitionally the bit which lets you use Sphere magic, they can in fact use Sphere magic.
Well, and it's also explicitly stated in the Mage Storyteller's Guide that Avatars are able to manipulate reality in coincidental ways when they like. And popping places is a thing that Manifest Avatars in particular do. And this is just a cover story for Alicia showing up at just the right time that hides the whole "isn't actually a person separate from Serafina" thing.
Kerrus
Fractal Insanity
If people want a non-buying-dots-of-ally-for-real-manifestation option, Alicia can always pull Serafina into a Seeking.
I think that might actually be one of the better options. So like, Serafina 'knows what she has to do', and she goes to the lab, and puts her final act into motion, so she goes and injects herself with an adaptive retroviral that will burn out her cognitive processes and scramble her genetics so they can't just clone/revive her.
And she does this, and it burns and she's screaming and falling down and-
And everything just sort of stops, as though time has stopped. And then rewinds or some shit, and Serafina does it over again- and this keeps happening again and again until she gets it right (ie: breaks out of it)- just a montage of her killing herself within the dream.
I think that might actually be one of the better options. So like, Serafina 'knows what she has to do', and she goes to the lab, and puts her final act into motion, so she goes and injects herself with an adaptive retroviral that will burn out her cognitive processes and scramble her genetics so they can't just clone/revive her.
And she does this, and it burns and she's screaming and falling down and-
And everything just sort of stops, as though time has stopped. And then rewinds or some shit, and Serafina does it over again- and this keeps happening again and again until she gets it right (ie: breaks out of it)- just a montage of her killing herself within the dream.
notanautomaton
I've got 99 quests, I've finished one
The problems with this is that the Seeking costs more in xp than the Allies dots, and MJ/ES have said that it's highly unlikely for us to have another character hit Enlightenment 6. But if you want it, stunt it and maybe he'll accept it.
Also, now is probably the optimal time for her to hit Enlightenment 6, as the free dot would let her bring her Life up to 5, which is very nice.
Question; if Jamelia's body is risky to leave around because of potential brain-trawling, does that hold equally true for Serafina who is Jamelia's 2IC and thus probably knows quite a lot of secrets? (Not to mention even knowing some things that Jamelia doesn't, like about Mari Langley.)
So if the Tyrants are going to wipe and/or boobytrap the Jamelia decoy, would they also want to swing by for Serafina too?
So if the Tyrants are going to wipe and/or boobytrap the Jamelia decoy, would they also want to swing by for Serafina too?
- Location
- Southern Virginia
Because I wanted to write some Bloodlines fanfiction...
Sebastian LaCroix was not a happy vampire.
He should have been. He was sitting at a fabulously expensive Third Empire desk, in his luxuriously appointed penthouse at the top of LA's most exclusive office tower, wearing a masterfully crafted bespoke suit, and sipping the blood of a beautiful young virgin. The blood was chilled, in glass, because he was watching an operation that should be guaranteeing his ascension to the next rung of power within the Camarilla and so he had no time for even the most pliant of blood dolls. His tour of duty in the First Empire had left something of a mark, and so he had intended to reserve the celebration until after victory was well in hand.
Instead he was watching a very costly operation going straight to hell.
He slammed a hand down on his desk. The crack caused the Tremere regent, Strauss, standing over by the desk in his signature red trenchcoat, to wince. A trio of SWAT officers, selected for their long-term potential, stepped back from the projector streaming real-time video of the assault. Only his ever-faithful Sheriff remained unperturbed. The bulky Nagloper remained at his side, unflinching, ready to draw forth his great sword and do his will.
That thought calmed LaCroix. He brought the perfectly manicured hand back over to adjust his tie. He shifted his posture to project himself forward to address them. "It seems we have an… interloper. Regent Strauss, what do your talents tell you about these… zombies?"
The baldheaded old Tremere gazed off at the focus crystal he held in his leather-gloved hand, before shifting to look at LaCroix. Of course his old-fashioned sunglasses obscured his eyes, giving LaCroix no purchase there. "They are linked to the Underworld," he answered portentously. "The wards put up around the area are interfering with further scrying, my Prince. Nor have I encountered anything like this before, I must reluctantly confess."
"Reluctantly indeed, for you to admit ignorance," LaCroix responded with honeyed voice.
Strauss nodded. "So it is, my Prince. I do not believe the arts I wield will be of much further use. The wards around this mage Construct prevent direct action without substantial ritual investment. And our Chantry has already provided your assault force with what strengthening and warding we can."
LaCroix smiled pleasantly. "Of course, it has been said the Tremere are more limited than they want others to think," he responded. "Your efforts are, as always, appreciated for what they are. I will keep in mind your contributions for later. But perhaps we need outside specialists for this particular problem?"
The Regent looked aghast at the suggestion. "Surely you don't mean…"
"Think of it as bringing in consultants for a new venture," the Prince answered blandly. "The Giovanni have a wealth of experience dealing with… ghosts." He had to keep himself from scoffing, even after what he had seen. Even after what that not-really-human contact of his had had to say. "The sooner we can deal with this intrusion," he said, waving a hand at the projector, "the sooner we can overrun this hostile faction and declare LA truly in the hands of the Camarilla. Just think of how the rest of our august organization will be heartened to see Los Angeles strike back, and the advantages we can gain by shifting through the rubble of their base."
"I will take my leave, my Prince." Strauss bowed from the waist, though to LaCroix's eye it was a bit more shallow than usual. "It seems you have matters under control and have no further use for the skills of the Tremere."
"Oh, come now, Regent," LaCroix implored. "Whatever concessions we, that is to say the Camarilla, must make to the Giovanni will be outweighed by our gains. The cost-benefit ratio is firmly in our favor. But if you don't wish to cooperate with the Giovanni, your Tremere mages can still assist by providing further mystical aid to our reserve strike force."
Strauss turned his unblinking gaze on him. The forces committed thus far were largely expendable. Neither man had expected the hastily turned SWAT teams to survive for very long, after all. Police and National Guard retainers led by a few ghouled officers were not, in the end, really vampires; and the kine produced so much more of themselves that heavy losses were acceptable because they would be temporary. Certainly so when the prize was so important and LA had been firmly under Camarilla rule for nearly fifteen years; LaCroix had little fear of an internal threat.
But the few experienced vampires committed thus far had been… well, not favored among his Court. Or else they were of the sort that lived for combat, and so had only one real use with the Anarchs subdued and the Cathayans beaten back to Chinatown. But the reserves were valuable and loyal kindred, of tested mettle. His very own Imperial Guard in a fashion. They were the bedrock of Camarilla rule and if he committed them the future of Los Angeles would be at stake. And Strauss was, if nothing else, a true loyalist to the Camarilla.
The Tremere conceded with a sigh. "As you say, my Prince. I will see to the workings myself."
LaCroix smiled generously, and waved at the SWAT officers. "Please, take them with you. They'll be attached to the operation when I commit our final squadron."
It wasn't phrased as an order, but Strauss and the new fledglings recognized it as such. Moments later the door to his penthouse was closing and he was along. Save, of course, for his Sheriff. For a brief moment LaCroix pondered committing his true final ace card but decided against it. The magical workings, and his face twisted into a grimace as he thought of the Tremere tricks that way, would be useful. But service under the Emperor had taught him one thing; never commit the final reserve until the decisive moment.
And his tactical mind flashed through the situation. The assault on the Construct had started well enough. A certain amount of bloodshed was expected in an assault on a fortress, especially one staffed with techno-mages, or whatever they were. As-Saud and Strauss didn't use the same terminology but he was sure both were talking about the same phenomenon. As promised the automatic defenses had been cut off, allowing a much easier time of it. The National Guard tripwire had been triggered only after the infiltration had been completed. The principle targets had not yet been killed, but it had only been a matter of time before the facility was secured.
And then a horde of possessed soldiers with ghostly tanks and strength and power equal to that of his turned SWAT officers had shown up to plunge the situation into total chaos.
His hold over LA was not as secure as he implied to Strauss. Nines Rodriguez and his band of malcontents and anarchists had escaped his purge of the Anarchs last year. There was still considerable sympathy for the Free State and if he stumbled even a bit, Rodriguez could return to stir up trouble.
And suffering a defeat or even a pyrrhic victory here would give him that opportunity. Using up expendable assets was fine, if it produced results. If not he would have wasted strength and be seen to waste strength. That would never do for a Prince. Instead of the fame and glory he was counting on to overawe his remaining enemies and secure greater power in the Camarilla, he would project weakness. The sharks circling around him would strike and he would have fewer resources with which to fend them off. And since he had already committed and made extravagant promises to the rest of the Camarilla he couldn't merely cut his losses, unless of course it was someone else's fault he had to.
Surely this was a vexing problem.
Still, he had more pawns to commit. The Giovanni were a loathsome lot, aping the good breeding and gentility of their Ventrue superiors but betraying their crassness at every turn. But they could be useful in this circumstance. Their demands mostly ran toward money, blood, territory, and exotic resources. He could certainly provide them. Victory would magnify his influence a dozen-fold, after all.
He pulled out his sleek white iPhone, habitually glancing around the room for any eavesdroppers. His Sheriff shook his massive head. Well, LaCroix certainly trusted his instincts! And if no one else truly was around, and Strauss' wards were functioning, there were a few other cards he could play. Because, as he sat and thought about it, this entire situation felt off to him.
Why hadn't as-Saud warned him that there were other parties involved? From Strauss had been able to tell him about these techno-mages the use of spirits and zombies was anathema to them. A third party, then. He licked his lips. Just before the purge he'd used the Anarchs to eliminate the Sabbat presence in LA. Well, as much as the vermin could be eliminated; they'd never found that damned Tzimisce Andrei, but on the whole he had gotten his two biggest enemies to destroy each other, allowing him to sweep in and clear the table afterward.
Could someone be trying to do the same to him?
He almost shattered his goblet of blood in the strength of a fury before calming himself. The Ventrue were control, over others but also over themselves. Only inferior breeds allowed their Beast to run rampant. No, if as-Saud had betrayed him he needed to do something unpredictable. And even if he hadn't, the introduction of a third party had fundamentally changed the parameters of the conflict. A good leader, and LaCroix knew he was a good leader both as a captain under Napoleon and as a CEO in the modern nights, knew when to change the plan.
So instead of calling the Giovanni right away and haggling with them, he first dialed another number. One he kept memorized instead of in his contacts. It rang three times before it was picked up. Silence greeted him on the other end, as the party there waited for him to make the first move.
Petty, but then the Orientals lacked his generous mindset. "Ming-Xiao, this is LaCroix. We have another matter of mutual interest before us. I trust you'll hear me out?"
"Hearing the snake plead can be amusing, if nothing else," she answered with her own brand of haughtiness. "What foolishness have you Cainites become embroiled in? My people do have televisions."
LaCroix bit back a sarcastic response. Bandying wits with the Cathayan was a frustrating exercise most of the time, and he did have to call the Giovanni. He might also need to make arrangements for more National Guard troops as well. If the situation really was a betrayal it might even require a call to the Prince of San Diego about certain Marine Corps assets of his. So really bluntness was his best option, however much it ran against his nature.
"We are cleansing Los Angeles of the presence of certain undesirable elements," he began. "Not the Sabbat or Anarchs, though you have my most sincere thanks for aiding me in dealing with Grout. These are techno-mages of a sect that dares to compete with the Camarilla. But the relevant matter here is that this sect was also responsible for the disaster in Moscow, and from what I've heard, also a certain incident in Hong Kong. The assassination of your… comrade, Devil Law? Well, this operation is also aimed at bringing justice to the one member of that sect also responsible for ordering that assassination."
Ming-Xiao responded with something like a gnashing of teeth. Blockaded up in Chinatown by the Camarilla, her Cathyans were the weaker party now. Yet she knew enough of LaCroix's manipulations to get him in trouble. And their trade in favors would be damning enough by itself. In fact he'd very much like to get her killed doing something useful. And she's smart enough to know it.
But the Cathayans have their own weird codes. And they were not happy with the death of Devil Law. Would she pass up the opportunity to avenge him?
"Talk, LaCroix," she finally answered. "We will see this person sent to the Hell of Unyielding Fire Torment. But you are not doing us a favor. We have a mutual interest this time."
"Not all the parties to this conflict have revealed themselves," LaCroix admitted. "But once they do, we can commit our strongest forces and sweep the board of our enemies. And Jamelia Belltower will be turned over to you to answer for her specific crimes. Is that a deal?"
"Deal."
And then Ming-Xiao disconnected, but LaCroix smiled. He'd gotten what he wanted. He took up the chilled blood and drank deeply of the sweet crimson liquid to settle himself before calling the Giovanni. That would be a more vigorous bit of negotiation but they'd sign up and could get this business with the ghosts sorted out. And then everything would be back on track. And if as-Saud had betrayed him, then vengeance would also swiftly follow.
###############################
Nines Rodriguez swung his Desert Eagle around to the creaking door in one fluid, practiced motion. At his side Damsel had a shotgun covering the door and Skelter was getting up from the sofa to grab his M-16. There were only a very few Kindred who should know where the safehouse was…
"Booyah!" Smiling Jack bounded in, looked at the reception, and frowned. "Is that the kinda welcome I'm getting 'round here these days?"
Nines lowered his gun, and motioned for the others. "Sorry. We're not taking a lot of chances. That bastard LaCroix's got us running. After he had Isaac dusted and called out the Blood Hunt on us every day's been a bad day."
"Oh man, don't I know it?" Smiling Jack stepped inside the rundown flat and frowned. "Had to skip out of town ahead of Magilla Gorilla there back in March. Shame, busting Sabbat heads was gettin' fun, but we shoulda figured on LaCroix sliding the knife in."
"That smooth-talking Eurotrash motherfucker," Skelter cursed. "We owe him too many buddies. If I ever get him in my sights, boom, those methuselah fucks'll be down one puppet."
Smiling Jack laughed, heartily. "Oh, man, yeah. Well someone else's got their hand up his ass these nights. He's attacking the Mages downtown. Seems one of their kind kicked the Cammies pretty damn good in Russia earlier this year. So he's got a little birdie whisperin' in his ear telling 'em how he can get payback and the stupid fucker ain't ever considered why someone else'd pass this on to 'em. "
"Mages?" Rodriguez shook his head. "If there's one thing I've learned, it's to give them a wide berth. You can't ever tell what they can do. Even the damn werewolves are safer since at least they're predictable. But how do you know this?"
"I got people," Smiling Jack responded opaquely. "Anyway, turn on the TV. The firefight's going on downtown and LaCroix's thrown the SWAT and National Guard at 'em. Mass embraced a bunch of SWAT guys along the way. Guess he can learn a new trick after all. Cammie and Sabbat ain't so different, is what I'm saying."
Damsel obliged, flicking on an ancient device balanced precariously on a dresser. The "hostage crisis" they'd idly noted earlier had become a "counter-terrorist operation" with the National Guard streaming into LA to reinforce the LAPD. There was talk of mobilizing federal forces from the talking heads. The few views of the carnage, to vampiric eyes, left little room to doubt something supernatural was going on here.
"Shit, this is just like how Moscow started." Skelter stood up, and paced around the sofa. "Ya'll heard what went down there, from the survivors. One of the Antediluvians awoke, went on a rampage, ate all the Elders, then the mages nuked the place and then the whole fuckin' city was back like it hadn't ever been smashed ta pieces. Only a handful of Kindred survived, most of 'em thinblooded and a bunch of Caitiff. If that shit's going down here we need to Gee Tee Eff O. We can't fight the Blood if we stick around."
"There aren't any Antediluvians," Damsel shot back. "That's just lies the capes tell all the neonates to keep them scared. Cammie, Sabbat, it doesn't matter. They're all afraid of us rising up and staking their wrinkled asses out to greet the Sun. And you said the mages put whatever it was down so it sounds to me like they're the bet to make here. And if they can help us get payback on that bastard LaCroix…"
Smiling Jack leaned over into the corner of the door and looked smug. "Well, I can't say that I know there are no Antediluvians in LA, but there's only like, one, top, max." And then he laughed. "Anyway, LaCroix's been listening to someone he shouldn't. And he's being set up, because the Mages don't always get along but most of 'em hate the Cammies. The bigger faction just don't like the competition when it comes to being the Man, but we can use this. Nines, get your crew together. Send the word out. The time to take back the Free State is coming, if you've got the guts for it anyway."
Nines pondered it. Smiling Jack was a legend and a solid to the core Anarch, though he didn't underestimate how manipulative the elder vampire could be. He certainly wouldn't be leading them into a trap knowingly. But right now LaCroix still hadn't shown all his cards. That Sheriff of his alone…
"I'll send the word out," he decided.
Damsel pumped her first into the air. "Fuck yeah, let's get this revolution going!"
Skelter turned his eyes back to his M16, brooding for a moment before looking back to Nines. "Right, well, can't fight the Blood. But if we can dust that motherfucker LaCroix first I'm all in. And I trust you, Nines."
"We aren't gonna move right away," Nines clarified. He looked over to Jack. "Right now he's just wasting Kine assets. The Cammies might be weak from those mass embraces but there are still a lot of powerful elder vampires in our way. The Sheriff needs to be dealt with before we can storm Ventrue Central."
Smiling Jack gave him a toothy grin. "You've got a solid head on yer shoulders, Nines. Don't take nothin' for granted. Especially from me. But s'fair enough. This is gonna get uglier yet and LaCroix's gonna need to throw that ape into the fray sooner or later. And throwing brutes at a Mage is a good way to wind up with fewer brutes. But that stupid asshole will be too busy panicing about his influence and standing and face. You know how those Ventrue pricks are."
"We'll see," Nines said. "I've got to make some calls. You fed yet? We've got some blood packs in the fridge."
"Euugh," Smiling Jack said, grimacing in distaste. "Nah, I only drink mine fresh from the source. 'Sides, I gotta split. I've got some preparations of my own and I've left the cab sitting out there too long as it is."
"Right then." Nines gave him a firm handshake on his way out, and passed on a piece of paper. "It's the number to my burner cell. Let me know when the shit really starts going down."
"Oh, I will," Jack promised before disappearing into the night.
Sebastian LaCroix was not a happy vampire.
He should have been. He was sitting at a fabulously expensive Third Empire desk, in his luxuriously appointed penthouse at the top of LA's most exclusive office tower, wearing a masterfully crafted bespoke suit, and sipping the blood of a beautiful young virgin. The blood was chilled, in glass, because he was watching an operation that should be guaranteeing his ascension to the next rung of power within the Camarilla and so he had no time for even the most pliant of blood dolls. His tour of duty in the First Empire had left something of a mark, and so he had intended to reserve the celebration until after victory was well in hand.
Instead he was watching a very costly operation going straight to hell.
He slammed a hand down on his desk. The crack caused the Tremere regent, Strauss, standing over by the desk in his signature red trenchcoat, to wince. A trio of SWAT officers, selected for their long-term potential, stepped back from the projector streaming real-time video of the assault. Only his ever-faithful Sheriff remained unperturbed. The bulky Nagloper remained at his side, unflinching, ready to draw forth his great sword and do his will.
That thought calmed LaCroix. He brought the perfectly manicured hand back over to adjust his tie. He shifted his posture to project himself forward to address them. "It seems we have an… interloper. Regent Strauss, what do your talents tell you about these… zombies?"
The baldheaded old Tremere gazed off at the focus crystal he held in his leather-gloved hand, before shifting to look at LaCroix. Of course his old-fashioned sunglasses obscured his eyes, giving LaCroix no purchase there. "They are linked to the Underworld," he answered portentously. "The wards put up around the area are interfering with further scrying, my Prince. Nor have I encountered anything like this before, I must reluctantly confess."
"Reluctantly indeed, for you to admit ignorance," LaCroix responded with honeyed voice.
Strauss nodded. "So it is, my Prince. I do not believe the arts I wield will be of much further use. The wards around this mage Construct prevent direct action without substantial ritual investment. And our Chantry has already provided your assault force with what strengthening and warding we can."
LaCroix smiled pleasantly. "Of course, it has been said the Tremere are more limited than they want others to think," he responded. "Your efforts are, as always, appreciated for what they are. I will keep in mind your contributions for later. But perhaps we need outside specialists for this particular problem?"
The Regent looked aghast at the suggestion. "Surely you don't mean…"
"Think of it as bringing in consultants for a new venture," the Prince answered blandly. "The Giovanni have a wealth of experience dealing with… ghosts." He had to keep himself from scoffing, even after what he had seen. Even after what that not-really-human contact of his had had to say. "The sooner we can deal with this intrusion," he said, waving a hand at the projector, "the sooner we can overrun this hostile faction and declare LA truly in the hands of the Camarilla. Just think of how the rest of our august organization will be heartened to see Los Angeles strike back, and the advantages we can gain by shifting through the rubble of their base."
"I will take my leave, my Prince." Strauss bowed from the waist, though to LaCroix's eye it was a bit more shallow than usual. "It seems you have matters under control and have no further use for the skills of the Tremere."
"Oh, come now, Regent," LaCroix implored. "Whatever concessions we, that is to say the Camarilla, must make to the Giovanni will be outweighed by our gains. The cost-benefit ratio is firmly in our favor. But if you don't wish to cooperate with the Giovanni, your Tremere mages can still assist by providing further mystical aid to our reserve strike force."
Strauss turned his unblinking gaze on him. The forces committed thus far were largely expendable. Neither man had expected the hastily turned SWAT teams to survive for very long, after all. Police and National Guard retainers led by a few ghouled officers were not, in the end, really vampires; and the kine produced so much more of themselves that heavy losses were acceptable because they would be temporary. Certainly so when the prize was so important and LA had been firmly under Camarilla rule for nearly fifteen years; LaCroix had little fear of an internal threat.
But the few experienced vampires committed thus far had been… well, not favored among his Court. Or else they were of the sort that lived for combat, and so had only one real use with the Anarchs subdued and the Cathayans beaten back to Chinatown. But the reserves were valuable and loyal kindred, of tested mettle. His very own Imperial Guard in a fashion. They were the bedrock of Camarilla rule and if he committed them the future of Los Angeles would be at stake. And Strauss was, if nothing else, a true loyalist to the Camarilla.
The Tremere conceded with a sigh. "As you say, my Prince. I will see to the workings myself."
LaCroix smiled generously, and waved at the SWAT officers. "Please, take them with you. They'll be attached to the operation when I commit our final squadron."
It wasn't phrased as an order, but Strauss and the new fledglings recognized it as such. Moments later the door to his penthouse was closing and he was along. Save, of course, for his Sheriff. For a brief moment LaCroix pondered committing his true final ace card but decided against it. The magical workings, and his face twisted into a grimace as he thought of the Tremere tricks that way, would be useful. But service under the Emperor had taught him one thing; never commit the final reserve until the decisive moment.
And his tactical mind flashed through the situation. The assault on the Construct had started well enough. A certain amount of bloodshed was expected in an assault on a fortress, especially one staffed with techno-mages, or whatever they were. As-Saud and Strauss didn't use the same terminology but he was sure both were talking about the same phenomenon. As promised the automatic defenses had been cut off, allowing a much easier time of it. The National Guard tripwire had been triggered only after the infiltration had been completed. The principle targets had not yet been killed, but it had only been a matter of time before the facility was secured.
And then a horde of possessed soldiers with ghostly tanks and strength and power equal to that of his turned SWAT officers had shown up to plunge the situation into total chaos.
His hold over LA was not as secure as he implied to Strauss. Nines Rodriguez and his band of malcontents and anarchists had escaped his purge of the Anarchs last year. There was still considerable sympathy for the Free State and if he stumbled even a bit, Rodriguez could return to stir up trouble.
And suffering a defeat or even a pyrrhic victory here would give him that opportunity. Using up expendable assets was fine, if it produced results. If not he would have wasted strength and be seen to waste strength. That would never do for a Prince. Instead of the fame and glory he was counting on to overawe his remaining enemies and secure greater power in the Camarilla, he would project weakness. The sharks circling around him would strike and he would have fewer resources with which to fend them off. And since he had already committed and made extravagant promises to the rest of the Camarilla he couldn't merely cut his losses, unless of course it was someone else's fault he had to.
Surely this was a vexing problem.
Still, he had more pawns to commit. The Giovanni were a loathsome lot, aping the good breeding and gentility of their Ventrue superiors but betraying their crassness at every turn. But they could be useful in this circumstance. Their demands mostly ran toward money, blood, territory, and exotic resources. He could certainly provide them. Victory would magnify his influence a dozen-fold, after all.
He pulled out his sleek white iPhone, habitually glancing around the room for any eavesdroppers. His Sheriff shook his massive head. Well, LaCroix certainly trusted his instincts! And if no one else truly was around, and Strauss' wards were functioning, there were a few other cards he could play. Because, as he sat and thought about it, this entire situation felt off to him.
Why hadn't as-Saud warned him that there were other parties involved? From Strauss had been able to tell him about these techno-mages the use of spirits and zombies was anathema to them. A third party, then. He licked his lips. Just before the purge he'd used the Anarchs to eliminate the Sabbat presence in LA. Well, as much as the vermin could be eliminated; they'd never found that damned Tzimisce Andrei, but on the whole he had gotten his two biggest enemies to destroy each other, allowing him to sweep in and clear the table afterward.
Could someone be trying to do the same to him?
He almost shattered his goblet of blood in the strength of a fury before calming himself. The Ventrue were control, over others but also over themselves. Only inferior breeds allowed their Beast to run rampant. No, if as-Saud had betrayed him he needed to do something unpredictable. And even if he hadn't, the introduction of a third party had fundamentally changed the parameters of the conflict. A good leader, and LaCroix knew he was a good leader both as a captain under Napoleon and as a CEO in the modern nights, knew when to change the plan.
So instead of calling the Giovanni right away and haggling with them, he first dialed another number. One he kept memorized instead of in his contacts. It rang three times before it was picked up. Silence greeted him on the other end, as the party there waited for him to make the first move.
Petty, but then the Orientals lacked his generous mindset. "Ming-Xiao, this is LaCroix. We have another matter of mutual interest before us. I trust you'll hear me out?"
"Hearing the snake plead can be amusing, if nothing else," she answered with her own brand of haughtiness. "What foolishness have you Cainites become embroiled in? My people do have televisions."
LaCroix bit back a sarcastic response. Bandying wits with the Cathayan was a frustrating exercise most of the time, and he did have to call the Giovanni. He might also need to make arrangements for more National Guard troops as well. If the situation really was a betrayal it might even require a call to the Prince of San Diego about certain Marine Corps assets of his. So really bluntness was his best option, however much it ran against his nature.
"We are cleansing Los Angeles of the presence of certain undesirable elements," he began. "Not the Sabbat or Anarchs, though you have my most sincere thanks for aiding me in dealing with Grout. These are techno-mages of a sect that dares to compete with the Camarilla. But the relevant matter here is that this sect was also responsible for the disaster in Moscow, and from what I've heard, also a certain incident in Hong Kong. The assassination of your… comrade, Devil Law? Well, this operation is also aimed at bringing justice to the one member of that sect also responsible for ordering that assassination."
Ming-Xiao responded with something like a gnashing of teeth. Blockaded up in Chinatown by the Camarilla, her Cathyans were the weaker party now. Yet she knew enough of LaCroix's manipulations to get him in trouble. And their trade in favors would be damning enough by itself. In fact he'd very much like to get her killed doing something useful. And she's smart enough to know it.
But the Cathayans have their own weird codes. And they were not happy with the death of Devil Law. Would she pass up the opportunity to avenge him?
"Talk, LaCroix," she finally answered. "We will see this person sent to the Hell of Unyielding Fire Torment. But you are not doing us a favor. We have a mutual interest this time."
"Not all the parties to this conflict have revealed themselves," LaCroix admitted. "But once they do, we can commit our strongest forces and sweep the board of our enemies. And Jamelia Belltower will be turned over to you to answer for her specific crimes. Is that a deal?"
"Deal."
And then Ming-Xiao disconnected, but LaCroix smiled. He'd gotten what he wanted. He took up the chilled blood and drank deeply of the sweet crimson liquid to settle himself before calling the Giovanni. That would be a more vigorous bit of negotiation but they'd sign up and could get this business with the ghosts sorted out. And then everything would be back on track. And if as-Saud had betrayed him, then vengeance would also swiftly follow.
###############################
Nines Rodriguez swung his Desert Eagle around to the creaking door in one fluid, practiced motion. At his side Damsel had a shotgun covering the door and Skelter was getting up from the sofa to grab his M-16. There were only a very few Kindred who should know where the safehouse was…
"Booyah!" Smiling Jack bounded in, looked at the reception, and frowned. "Is that the kinda welcome I'm getting 'round here these days?"
Nines lowered his gun, and motioned for the others. "Sorry. We're not taking a lot of chances. That bastard LaCroix's got us running. After he had Isaac dusted and called out the Blood Hunt on us every day's been a bad day."
"Oh man, don't I know it?" Smiling Jack stepped inside the rundown flat and frowned. "Had to skip out of town ahead of Magilla Gorilla there back in March. Shame, busting Sabbat heads was gettin' fun, but we shoulda figured on LaCroix sliding the knife in."
"That smooth-talking Eurotrash motherfucker," Skelter cursed. "We owe him too many buddies. If I ever get him in my sights, boom, those methuselah fucks'll be down one puppet."
Smiling Jack laughed, heartily. "Oh, man, yeah. Well someone else's got their hand up his ass these nights. He's attacking the Mages downtown. Seems one of their kind kicked the Cammies pretty damn good in Russia earlier this year. So he's got a little birdie whisperin' in his ear telling 'em how he can get payback and the stupid fucker ain't ever considered why someone else'd pass this on to 'em. "
"Mages?" Rodriguez shook his head. "If there's one thing I've learned, it's to give them a wide berth. You can't ever tell what they can do. Even the damn werewolves are safer since at least they're predictable. But how do you know this?"
"I got people," Smiling Jack responded opaquely. "Anyway, turn on the TV. The firefight's going on downtown and LaCroix's thrown the SWAT and National Guard at 'em. Mass embraced a bunch of SWAT guys along the way. Guess he can learn a new trick after all. Cammie and Sabbat ain't so different, is what I'm saying."
Damsel obliged, flicking on an ancient device balanced precariously on a dresser. The "hostage crisis" they'd idly noted earlier had become a "counter-terrorist operation" with the National Guard streaming into LA to reinforce the LAPD. There was talk of mobilizing federal forces from the talking heads. The few views of the carnage, to vampiric eyes, left little room to doubt something supernatural was going on here.
"Shit, this is just like how Moscow started." Skelter stood up, and paced around the sofa. "Ya'll heard what went down there, from the survivors. One of the Antediluvians awoke, went on a rampage, ate all the Elders, then the mages nuked the place and then the whole fuckin' city was back like it hadn't ever been smashed ta pieces. Only a handful of Kindred survived, most of 'em thinblooded and a bunch of Caitiff. If that shit's going down here we need to Gee Tee Eff O. We can't fight the Blood if we stick around."
"There aren't any Antediluvians," Damsel shot back. "That's just lies the capes tell all the neonates to keep them scared. Cammie, Sabbat, it doesn't matter. They're all afraid of us rising up and staking their wrinkled asses out to greet the Sun. And you said the mages put whatever it was down so it sounds to me like they're the bet to make here. And if they can help us get payback on that bastard LaCroix…"
Smiling Jack leaned over into the corner of the door and looked smug. "Well, I can't say that I know there are no Antediluvians in LA, but there's only like, one, top, max." And then he laughed. "Anyway, LaCroix's been listening to someone he shouldn't. And he's being set up, because the Mages don't always get along but most of 'em hate the Cammies. The bigger faction just don't like the competition when it comes to being the Man, but we can use this. Nines, get your crew together. Send the word out. The time to take back the Free State is coming, if you've got the guts for it anyway."
Nines pondered it. Smiling Jack was a legend and a solid to the core Anarch, though he didn't underestimate how manipulative the elder vampire could be. He certainly wouldn't be leading them into a trap knowingly. But right now LaCroix still hadn't shown all his cards. That Sheriff of his alone…
"I'll send the word out," he decided.
Damsel pumped her first into the air. "Fuck yeah, let's get this revolution going!"
Skelter turned his eyes back to his M16, brooding for a moment before looking back to Nines. "Right, well, can't fight the Blood. But if we can dust that motherfucker LaCroix first I'm all in. And I trust you, Nines."
"We aren't gonna move right away," Nines clarified. He looked over to Jack. "Right now he's just wasting Kine assets. The Cammies might be weak from those mass embraces but there are still a lot of powerful elder vampires in our way. The Sheriff needs to be dealt with before we can storm Ventrue Central."
Smiling Jack gave him a toothy grin. "You've got a solid head on yer shoulders, Nines. Don't take nothin' for granted. Especially from me. But s'fair enough. This is gonna get uglier yet and LaCroix's gonna need to throw that ape into the fray sooner or later. And throwing brutes at a Mage is a good way to wind up with fewer brutes. But that stupid asshole will be too busy panicing about his influence and standing and face. You know how those Ventrue pricks are."
"We'll see," Nines said. "I've got to make some calls. You fed yet? We've got some blood packs in the fridge."
"Euugh," Smiling Jack said, grimacing in distaste. "Nah, I only drink mine fresh from the source. 'Sides, I gotta split. I've got some preparations of my own and I've left the cab sitting out there too long as it is."
"Right then." Nines gave him a firm handshake on his way out, and passed on a piece of paper. "It's the number to my burner cell. Let me know when the shit really starts going down."
"Oh, I will," Jack promised before disappearing into the night.
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Sirrocco
Pedantic
- Pronouns
- He/Him
So... how many times are we going to hit the "escalate" button on *this* one?
I mean... we've already had Moscow end in nukes and a new Incarna. Spirit-hollywood ended in... nukes and a new Incarna (briefly). Do we really want LA to end in Nukes and a new Incarna?
I suppose it would handle the "explain why Hollywood lost so much influence so fast" thing. It's even happening at more or less the same time.
Huh.
I mean... we've already had Moscow end in nukes and a new Incarna. Spirit-hollywood ended in... nukes and a new Incarna (briefly). Do we really want LA to end in Nukes and a new Incarna?
I suppose it would handle the "explain why Hollywood lost so much influence so fast" thing. It's even happening at more or less the same time.
Huh.
- Location
- Southern Virginia
Well historically making everything into a total clusterfuck hasn't actually hurt us. Still we don't have a rampaging god-monster running around here. And probably won't if events continue to amuse Caine.
Also it occurs to me that the Giovanni are experts (as much as there are experts) among the Vampires at handling Wraiths. An-Jin Choi is almost certainly responsible for the zombies and such. So if we get the Giovanni to talk to An-Jin Choi, he's likely to start ranting about how Panopticon and Control screwed him over, which is likely to set off the well-honed sense of paranoia that any Camarilla Prince has...
Also it occurs to me that the Giovanni are experts (as much as there are experts) among the Vampires at handling Wraiths. An-Jin Choi is almost certainly responsible for the zombies and such. So if we get the Giovanni to talk to An-Jin Choi, he's likely to start ranting about how Panopticon and Control screwed him over, which is likely to set off the well-honed sense of paranoia that any Camarilla Prince has...