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I looked upon the scene before me - upon the mere house, and the simple landscape features of the domain - upon the bleak walls upon the vacant eye-like windows - upon a few rank sedges - and upon a few white trunks of decayed trees - with an utter depression of the soul, which I can compare to no earthly sensation… - Edgar Allan Poe * There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, Than are dreamt of in your philosophy - William Shakespeare * No Man chooses evil because it is evil; he only mistakes it for happiness, the good he seeks. - Mary Wollstonecraft * Tell me the news, again, whatever it is... sorrow and I are hardly strangers. I can bear the worst. ― Sophocles






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A Business Meeting (Genoa); Attn: Jack Sheridan
Topic Started: Jul 31 2015, 02:40 PM (523 Views)
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The bright colours of the containers stood out like a printing error in the surrounding composition of greys. Asphalt and metal, sharp, functional shapes outlined a wide labyrinth that, even at that hour, was anything but quiet. From distance, a cargo ship blew its horn, nearby a group of dockers yelled in Genoese - an idiom almost foreign, somehow Iberic, somehow maritime. The air was brackish and thick, the night warm. Behind Jack was the sea; on the hills above the port were castled the houses and streets of Genoa.

The meeting place was in a more discreet area - in the way old neglected places can be discreet. Warehouses gave way to warehouses more and more rundown. Even though the streets were wide and functional, the squat buildings of sheet metal and concrete seemed now to loom closer; nobody was there to be seen, and yet one could have the distinct perception to be observed from every side.

A rusty signboard was hung above what looked like a decrepit garage. Once upon a time, the sign “Officine Manella” must have been painted in bright red and bold characters, but now its brownish remains were barely readable.

As expected, Jack could find that the service door was open. Once in, a dim light displayed old dusty machinery and an assortment of vehicles, boxes and other amassed items half-concealed by shadows. The space was wider than its exterior would have suggested. A truck, parked at an apparently illogical angle, concealed an ample portion of the garage from Jack’s sight.

Once she had walked past it, she could recognize a familiar figure sitting at a plank table. Roberto had the appearance of a man in his forties, weathered by experience and disappointments. He flaunted the style and attitude of a most stereotypical street thug, although those who knew it could feel - even without knowing his story - how deliberately that attitude had been studied and crafted and honed over time. His grizzled hair were long to his shoulders, tied in a ponytail that was just a bit too soft, only slightly old fashioned. When he saw Jack, the Brujah didn’t rise, but he smirked and cocked his head in acknowledgement. He wouldn’t have mocked her with fake words of courtesy, but it was apparent he was, in his way, glad to see her again.

[alias=PORT OF GENOA]
[avatar=http://static.panoramio.com/photos/large/48179126.jpg]
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Jack smiled warmly back at her old... was he a friend? No, a reliability. He had his own motives, just like every other Sucker out in the world, but he had never tried a double-cross. That made him a mite better than most. They had worked the odd job together on more than one occasion. If he had been of the mortal persuasion, Jack expected they would have even shared a drink.

A bit clandestine this meet, Bobby.” Jack stuck her hands deep into her pockets as he offered his greeting gesture, “Any indeterminate passer by might think we were of the criminal persuasion, though admittedly only if they can see through walls.

Teddy towered behind her casting shadows twice her size, a comfortable reminder, even to those she liked, that she never worked alone. Sidling forward, she sat her ass on Roberto's table and lifted her leg turning to him.

I also must confess to being a little confounded that you wanted to meet so soon. I already told you we'd take that gig in Turin.” For a moment Jack inexplicably struggled to extract her hands from her now bent pockets, before pulling out a small flask from her jacket and swigging a mouth full of gin. “Got a boy out there now eyeing up the parts. I figured you'd give us a chance to do our own reconnaissance, as it were, before the 'hi's' and 'byes'. My lad thinks it'll go nice and smooth-like, once we've got ourselves a noose around the native goonery. Going to need you to fill me in on their chicanery, though. You've been here a tad longer than us, after all...

Jack turned a thoughtful smile to Teddy, who had remained by the poorly parked truck. To any sensible set of folks, Teddy was an intimidating sight at the best of times. Only someone as daffy as Jack could see the sheepish hitch of his shoulders for what it was - nerves. He had no mind for the business of things.

I gotta say, it'll be grand to have territory again.” She turned her attentions back to Roberto, “Haven't dabbled with the like in well over a century, at least not for my own sake. Should be a right adventure. I know, I know, you're getting a cut of the fun. We never settled on the size, though.

Roberto suddenly fidgeted in his seat in a way the honest would never do. Rising back onto her feet, Jack pressed her fingers against the table and leaned closer to the Brujah before her.

Now if I didn't already have the knowings on you all too well, I'd say you just got uncomfortable, Bobby. Do you have something else for me?
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Roberto chuckled at Jack's words, not so much because of the joke on their criminal persuasion, but because the simple hypothesis of anyone stepping into his territory by chance... now that was really hilarious. Failing to think to an equally humorous remark, he said: "They should just try"; his smirk had an air of roguish warmth, behind which lurked the grin of a hungry predator, one that would have nothing but enjoyed feasting upon some accidental interloper.

He eyed unconcernedly the huge companion that Jack had brought with her, then he returned his full attention to his old pirate ally. "Now that's the approach!" he said, when Jack informed him of her first moves to take control of the territory. Granted, he expected nothing less from her... He glanced jealously at Jack's flask and continued: "And I'm quite sure your boy had told you how Turin is house to a few contenders, in our line of business. Now, of course we have our traditional Southern breed... I'll tell you, I am in good terms with their fellows here in Genoa", he said, with a not so hidden undertone of malice; his definition of 'good terms' with mortal syndicates usually involved some especially juicy drink. "It's good to have those guys working for us. They're established, and we'd be the first to know if the Venetians try to fuck with us. Just leave their sisters alone", he concluded with a wink.

He stroke his hair and placed one of his heavy boots on his knee. He frowned, as if pondering over something, then said: "Then... Everyone seem to have their little gang. The Chinese, the Russians, you name it... Some will have their little niche, or compete all for the same place in the shade... I don't give a damn about any of them, so how to use them is up to you".

Indeed he might have got his ideas on how to exploit that varied bunch, but Jack was a professional and in no need of such pieces of advice. None of those guys was remotely a challenge, how to play with them was only a matter of choice. As for the other thing... Sure, Jack was the ideal candidate from a certain perspective - from more than one, actually - but then she posed her own problems. Granted, from some point of view he would have preferred one of those stupid little kids who believed in nothing... but then, then... he needed a competent one first of all.

Jack seemed to have sniffed his train of thoughts and was now on her feet, glaring at him with an air of suspicion. The Brujah didn't finch, he only squinted his eyes and grinned while sustaining her gaze; ostensibly amused and even admired, but such kind of amusement - as any interaction among their kind - always came with a underlayer of implied threat.

"There is indeed something else you could do for me", he said, after a carefully measured pause. "Have I told you I have been in Turin, back in the good old days? It must have been, like, 200 years ago".

[alias=Roberto]
[avatar=http://lh5.ggpht.com/7CAbpD7Y56wxxpjiSE_BeEBK0WA6fYBUDVrOBdZ87Rvfi6BqyqSf5BIpzy-w_GyeeRsH4ZCZZI_t-pvRXjidjsA=s285-c]
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I'd be glad of some names to put to these Southern larks,” Jack nodded as she pulled up a crate and sat down, “but that can wait till I've made my merry way up there, I suppose. Do they know I'm coming, at least?

Kella made a note to smack Danior in the cranium if she ever caught him near mafiosa women. The last thing she needed was teary tarts crying over his dick. His ego was big enough already. Ears perking up at the mention of Venice, she grinned. Kella had been there many times before, for crime, for family (though long dead), to buy another bar... She liked the place, minus the filthy water. It stuck between her webbed toes. The smell hanging around for months. She also knew that turf wars spilled out of there often, and had done for centuries.

Are the Venetians getting a bit cocky, then?” She asked with a squint, “I haven't heard much of late, too long in the blue does that to a girl. Seems I have more catching up to do than I figured.

Foreigners eking out territory was nothing new. After spending so long in America, passing between African, Caribbean, Iranian, Italian, Irish and so many other malefactors... she honestly expected it. More often than not they were small, neighbourhood specific, and cuntish little bastards. Threatening the lives of local businesses, families, and those no better than children yet to learn the word 'no'. It was simple enough to cajole, or crush such syndicates beneath a heel. Being the immortal spawn of a devil does make things easier.

I thank you for the freedom.” Jack took another swig of gin, “A leanbh* might be able to make use of the Slavs. Be preferable to wiping them of the face of the earth, at any rate. Should keep things copacetic. Kine are less likely to notice us if old fears don't up and vanish in the night. Any objections?

Roberto had eyed her for a time in silence, seeming to weigh his concerns against her presence. She was used to that. Most clientèle oft worried whether they were making the right call. If some silly twat fresh out of breath might not be a safer bet. The smart ones hired her. The stupid? Well... some met final death, the last she checked. Bobby's doubt stung a little, though she hid the disappointment behind another swig of gin. The next time he spoke, Kella couldn't hold back a wide and genuine grin.

Is it time for a story, Bobby?” She scooched closer with her crate. “I remember you were in these parts, aye. Go on...


*Gaelic for 'my child' AKA Non.
Edited by Jack Sheridan, Aug 5 2015, 09:43 AM.
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[alias=ROBERTO][avatar=http://lh5.ggpht.com/7CAbpD7Y56wxxpjiSE_BeEBK0WA6fYBUDVrOBdZ87Rvfi6BqyqSf5BIpzy-w_GyeeRsH4ZCZZI_t-pvRXjidjsA=s285-c]“Of course, of course, you’ll be told all that you need”, he said, with a wave of the hand. “And them too, they’ll know who they must treat like family”.

The issue of the Venetians was a delicate one, not because of what they were doing in Turin, but for their conspicuous absence, together with everyone else's… an aspect he was determined not to tell Jack, not until it was too late at least. “Not really”, he said, “at least recently they’re more into high finance, politics and juicy bribes. And you know what, I’ll leave those to them. We may play with the same pawns sometimes, but we play different games”.

He sat more comfortably, leaning against the wall and lighting a cigarette. “Now, if they ever tried to fuck with our business, I’d rather know it sooner than later, so it helps to have some common friend, you see”, he concluded, pensively. True, pulling the strings of some mafioso helped keep an eye on that chance as well, although if the Gios ever had to visit Turin, it would have been for other reasons than dealing drugs.

Roberto frowned when Jack dropped one of her incomprehensible words. What the fuck was leanbh supposed to mean? Whatever it was, that must have been some kind of pawn that she had. He gave her a stare: “You’d think that with my long service with the Cam I should know a thing or two about the Masquerade, right?” He had a copious drag from his cigarette and nodded: “Yeap, no objection”.

After a few seconds and another mouthful of smoke, he disposed himself to tell her all the story. Or at least, the bits and pieces she needed to know to do her job. “When I was in Turin… I think you know, the city had a hell of a history, contended between sects since forever… However, I was saying, when I’ve been there the Prince was one of your blood. A brave guy, no doubt on that, although you wouldn’t ever have called him humble. He had conquered a big piece of land out of the city back from the Sabbat - and how proud he was of that! So, we had this Elysium in a hunting lodge in the middle of the woods, with no sign of civilization in sight… Except for us, of course” he concluded with a chuckle. “Back then, I had been exchanging a great deal of boons with this little wimp of a Torrie. And you can bet, the balance was well in my favour. It seems that a sword pays a bit better than dancing skills in a warzone, don’t you agree? Anyway… Another thing that happens easily in a warzone is that your enemy doesn’t give a shit about traditions and what today is your pretty Elysium tomorrow is a lair for a bunch of shovelheads”. Roberto shrugged again, not willing to display too much anti-Sabbat animosity with Jack, who notably couldn’t care less about either faction. “And here we get to the interesting part. Because what had I to find out here in Genoa? That this little cocksucker of a Rose is now my cherished Seneschal, nothing less. What a shame I couldn’t call him out on our debt, since the Harpy’s book was buried somewhere in the basement of a ruined Elysium. Until now” he said. “Because now I heard another news. It seems that now the old hunting lodge has been re-discovered, restructured, turned into a museum and all those fancy things that people do when they find any piece of ancient shit. It seems they have found a collection of old books, and let me tell you, your clansmate, Prince or not, wasn’t collecting books on knitting. Whatever was there did matter, one way or another”. He paused, then he concluded: “So, you see by yourself what I need. We've both got a lot to earn from this story and this city so I count on you".
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Jack understood Roberto's wariness of the Giovanni, so deeply entrenched in Venice you could easily say they had rooted. An ancient family, mortal and Kindred combined. They danced around their Necropolis' and dropped more money than words to keep irrelevant Kine out of their way. Kella gave little thought to them ne'er dipping their fingers into Turin. When you have an entire watery city at your disposal, why bother?
I'll keep an eye.” She nodded, though, in a reassuring manner; “If I catch a glance, you'll know of it sharp-like.

The sarcasm dripping from his following comment made her both cringe and grin. So often she talked without thought. An errant cerebration spilling from her lips, no awareness of its implication.
Ahh,” She toned and tapped the table with her fingers sheepishly, “I meant no bother, Bobby. Just having a think out loud. Never would imply...” She quickly turned to Teddy; “Would you look at this, eh? Masquerade's getting me in difficulties already!

The masquerade, honestly, barely factored into Jack's existence. Mortal considerations were made for reasons beyond it, in spite of it, with no connection at all. It was always best to tip the scales in the background, in a way the world would never notice. In a way that meant practically nothing actually changed. The Camarilla cared about going unnoticed so they could keep existing, and controlling, and arguing about their morality and humanity. Jack cared about it to maintain a balance; for business, for belief, for sanity. So much of her work was between ruminating Kindred, now she was thinking about humans – and sometimes those thoughts slipped out...Roberto had moved on, though, to the Turin of centuries passed.

Ownership's still up in the air. Naught much changes.” Jack sucked at her teeth, then felt her eyebrows knit together with incredulity. An Elysium in the woods? She had never heard the like; but then, how many could say they had heard of a coterie making merry on a schooner?

War's always been good for business for thems that have cultivated a talent for violence.” She agreed, “And I had to ash a fair few shovelheads in Crescent City*. Nasty work. They like to nibble.

Subconsciously, Jack rubbed at her shoulder, where teeth had once sunk in. The difference in tone, between hers and Roberto's was palpable. Where he brimmed with utter disgust, she was completely devoid of opinion. Never personally invested in Sect wars, she fought for the side that paid her first. Not one kill could ever be personal, and she always let them take the first shot. Bobby knew not to sway her with loyalties, so he skipped on to the meat of the thing. A book.

How much should I wager that book says you're owed mighty more than a simple boon?” She was amused; when he locked up, Jack thought it was for something a mite more catastrophic. “Ah, no nevermind. If it's of import to you I'll be sure to get it into your pocket. Now am I to steal the one book, or the whole library? If you're hoping for the former, it'll be looking for a needle in a needle-stack. I'd be grateful to you for a description beyond 'it has pages'.


*New Orelans
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[alias=ROBERTO][avatar=http://lh5.ggpht.com/7CAbpD7Y56wxxpjiSE_BeEBK0WA6fYBUDVrOBdZ87Rvfi6BqyqSf5BIpzy-w_GyeeRsH4ZCZZI_t-pvRXjidjsA=s285-c]Roberto shrugged - he didn't really loved being taught lessons. Not by people who surely knew much less than him on the matter. He didn't love it, really... but at least, he was old enough to drop a discussions that wouldn't have ended well.

So, he dropped that topic and proceeded to inform Jack on what else she needed to know, always omitting what wasn't really essential for her task.

He was glad, indeed, Jack hadn't asked too much about the local politics. That was really a perk of her being Independent, he considered. Sure, he had prepared an adjusted version of that story, no doubt - but still he was relieved to avoid the issue altogether.

On the book, on the other hand, he'd have just loved to provide much more information, if only he had known something more himself. "I only need the Harpy's book. If you find any other good read among the Elysium's special collection, better for you", he said with a grin. "Not sure where the collection is now, it used to be safely stored in the underground, but I have no idea where they moved it now. The palace is some kind of museum, so it might even be in full display. The book itself is a big brown leathery thing" he said, gesturing to mean a huge size "The cover was carved with... a bull and a wolf, if I remember correctly? So, find that book and have it delivered it to me entire and readable. I am sure you can do that" he said with a meaningful glance. Then, as if suddenly remembering something important, he added: "The palace is called Palazzo Pinerolio, it's out of Turin. I bet you can even find it in the tourist's guide", he concluded with yet another grin.
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Jack knew the nature of Brujah (she lived with a particularly stoic and angry one after all), and was grateful that he had not taken her slips of the tongue too personal-like. There was ever the chance of pissing off the Rabble, but rarely was it intentional on Kella's part.

Big cow and a dog? That's grand.” Jack offered a thumbs up as she rose form her chair, “I'll pass the place on to a leanbh, and let you know if we find anything to be of interest.

She hoped the place, wherever it was, opened nightly. Casing a joint for thievery was much easier when she had the lay of the land in her head. Blueprints only ever got her so far.

Now, I guess this means I'll see you later, Bobby.” She offered her hand to him and shook it with finality, very business-like.

Turning to Teddy she nodded, and the phone he had held in his bear-sized hand was slipped away; Jack would remember it all, but the crew preferred to hear their orders from the horse's mouth (as it were). So, they recorded everything. Non called it 'good practice'. Jack had no idea what he meant. Taking Teddy by the arm they made back around the side of the truck before she recalled something and rushed back to the light, and to Roberto.

Oh, I sent one of the ghouls into town a few weeks back, when you first got in touch, my lad. Had him purchase a place up there called 'Charlie Byrd'. Right in the centre from what I hear.” She tossed him a card with the address on, “Feel free to pop in any old time. Later, Bobby.

Jack met up with Teddy and Jiba at the factory door, lighting her pipe with a sigh. She looked at her companions with an uneasy grin, but the silence did not last long between them. Kella began telling them an age-old story of Roberto – it would last most of the journey to Torino.
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