Masquerade: Midsummer Nights (Apply in OOC)

[Imperialisium]

Coven of the Purple Hearts

The dancer shook and swung her hips. Truth be told she could smell the cologne just fine from where she was. Her sense of smell far superior to that of a regular human. She turned around, her bare breasts and stomach now facing Mikhailov, and continued to work her body onto him. She wasn't interested in sex with him, personally she considered him unattractive, but that would ruin her clients fantasy now wouldn't it? So she brought her face in close to him. Making it a bit more intimate, yet, also no direct contact between her face and his body. She was good, professional, for one of her craft anyways. She wrapped her hands around him and tousled his hair.

"Wife know you're here?" she mused playfully.

She brought herself around in another complex position. Allowing him full view of her nether regions. To give the vampires of the Purple Hearts credit they sure were patient. It took a whole another five minutes for her bring herself back around and her face close to Mikhailov's neck. To the point were he could feel her breath on his neck. Then it happened. Like lightning. She sank her fangs into Mikhailov's throat. Her vampiric venom immediately sending waves of relaxation, ease, and pleasure to Mikhailov's brain. See that was what made the Vampire a superior predator. Not only the enticing powers they had but the mere act of feeding brought waves of orgasmic pleasure to their prey.

Leidr
The Mysterium house in Los Angeles was indeed nice, modern, and relatively new in terms of construction. Inside however, it would be practically abandoned, only a couple acolytes. Mere beginners and dabblers in the arcane arts. The Mage presence in Los Angeles was not coherent nor large. That much would become obvious to Leidr almost immediately.

[Luminesa]

Mikhailov stared at her face rather than her body, which would have most likely given him away if she was not so busy at her work. Just as she found him unattractive, he found her mostly boring to him. Nothing about her appearance caused him to feel a spark, some shockwave of attraction. He just needed for her to get close enough...

She did get close once, when she took his face in her hands and played with his hair. Her hands were soft, and she was careful not to touch any other part of him. He continued to keep a nonchalant, smitten look on his face, knowing just as well as she that this was all part of a game. And as long as she was busy, she was quiet. Nobody knew or cared that he was around.

Then of course, she mentioned the ring.

He usually did not pay much attention to the ring. Most times he seemed to forget he had it on his finger. Yet now he remembered, and for just a moment his eyes flickered to the tiny diamond. It was slightly dulled from having not been polished in a long time, but the tiny glitter it did give almost seemed like a plea to Mikhailov’s heart. A plea to his conscience, of which he had little. Instead of feeling a pang of his conscience, however, he felt something else, something far darker. Resentment. Bitterness. Hatred. Not for the ring, but for the woman in front of him. He seemed to lose track of her movements, and that was when she sat down next to him.

Mikhailov had never been Kissed. He had experienced the Blood Bond, which had only made Anna more despicable to him, despite the fact that Silvanus had done worse. He continued to smirk at the dancer and allowed himself to relax as she Kissed him. Now came the hard part. The wave of pleasure and ecstasy nearly overwhelmed him. He felt his face get red, and he chuckled, almost as though it tickled. Every fiber of his body told him to forget. Forget the ring. Forget the mission. Forget Alexei. Forget Silvanus. His mind seemed to be melting.

Yet the ring seemed to continue to glitter behind his closed eyes, and without giving her any indication that he was not enthralled by her, he reached into his pocket. Silently, he infused his pistol and the bullets in the pistol with light. As he re-opened his eyes, and he slowly drew the pistol, the dancer could see his eyes. While they were normally sky-blue, as he allowed his Magic to show his eyes became darker, almost violet. They pulsated with streaks of lightning and with twinkling stars, like a frightening, alternate galaxy. Pleasure and hatred fought in his eyes, and his smile became a cold, blank expression.

“...No...she does not know...and she never will...”

As he did with Alexei in the library, he allowed his Magic to swallow any and all sound around him. In this way, nobody would hear the gun. The only indication anyone would have that something had gone terribly wrong would be Mikhailov’s harsh, softly-spoken words before he pulled the pistol and shot her in the stomach.

As the light-covered bullets hit her, and she began to bleed-out, he continued to use his Magic to nullify the sounds of her screams. He himself ignored her screams of pain as he worked. He took-off his Vitae-covered jacket, wrapped her body in it tightly, and eyed the Vitae which had been sprayed around the small room. He buttoned his shirt and he put his glasses back on. He then picked-up her body, and he covered the room in an illusion of cleanliness. Finally he created a portal of light, and he stepped into it, into the back alley.

“...!!!” Alexei saw Mikhailov appear in the alley, and immediately noted his cold, emotionless face. He had never seen him without a smirk, or without some sort of expression on his face. Now he had not even shreds of arrogance in his expression. He was unfeeling. Calculating. Uncaring. Even as drops of Vitae dripped down his face. “...Doctor Mikhailov?...”

Mikhailov put the body along the wall, wiped his gun with a cloth in his pocket, and then he handed Alexei his gloves. “Put these on.”

Without asking questions, he did so. “...But...these are your gloves...”

“It hides fingerprints. Now, here.” He handed Alexei his pistol, and waited.

Alexei stared at the pistol. He had never fired a gun before, even if he had killed vampires with other weapons. He looked over at Mikhailov with a bit of anxiety.

“In the heart, Alexei. Do you know how to aim a gun?...”

“...I...well...I’ve...never used a gun.”

The Mage walked toward him, and took his hands. He could feel Alexei’s hands shaking, and realized he had been out in the cold for a while. He also knew Alexei had been worried, but did not know why. “You’re not afraid to kill a vampire are you?...” he questioned.

“...No...”

“...Look.” The Mage took Alexei’s hands and arranged them so that he would shoot properly. “...Now it’s slightly loud, but I have a sound-barrier around us. Nobody will hear. Now fire,” he whispered.

The Inquisitor nodded, and aimed the gun at her chest. A single shot, and a light-filled bullet was in her heart.

“...Again.”

“Huh?”

Mikhailov closed his eyes. “She’s bleeding-out, one more bullet. In the head.”

“...Alright...” Alexei took aim, and he shot her at point-blank in the head. He was horrified by the splatter that appeared on the ground around her, and jumped back as he heard the shot.

“How are you an Inquisitor?...Ah wait, you’re not. Not right now...” The Inquisitor did turn to face him, indignant, but he saw that the Mage was not even trying to tease him. He seemed to be absorbed in something else.

“...Well...do we go in to take more? The Provincial isn’t going to simply let me go for killing one...”

“...Your choice. But now you have blood on your jacket. Take it off if you want to go back in.”

Alexei gazed at him for a moment, and then he looked toward the ground.

“What’s the matter?...You want your job back don’t you?” Mikhailov took his face in his hand and lifted his chin, staring him in the face.

“...Of course...”

“...Then go. Whatever mess you make, I’ll clean it up.” With that, Alexei snuck into the back door, and Mikhailov waited outside. He felt the wound on his neck, the bite-marks that had not healed, and just for a moment a smile came back to his face. What specifically was on his mind was anyone’s guess, but the color came back to him and his eyes glittered. He did not care about the dead vampire nearby. He only cared about whatever now played in his mind.

[Xah]

Lleidr
Mysterium Safe House
Bel Air
Los Angeles

The few acolytes in the all but empty house gave Lleidr a wide berth after her initial introduction and brief show of the property. Like most sanctums, it was fairly heavily warded; a succession of mages had continuously added to the defences over the decades, and Lleidr doubted that most of the neighbouring Sleepers even remembered it was here. Apparently getting trash collected was a nightmare as the house kept getting deleted from the relevant databases by confused officials. One nice side effect of the warding was the serene atmosphere within the house. The Quiescence was muted somewhat, and Lleidr could feel the tranquil nature of the Shadow, even to her limited Spirit senses and if there were any ghosts nearby, they had been pacified to the point of non-existence.

The library was everything that Lleidr expected it to be; well stocked, meticulously clean and as boring as fuck. She gave it the once over, had a leaf through the usual tomes that were present in almost every Mysterium library to check for the usual typos, and wasn't disappointed. Thorough transcribing was a hallmark of Mysterium training, leaving the typos in was important. Just because you, a mere apprentice, thought it was wrong, was not reason enough to alter it. Lleider suspected the typos were there to prove the copying was done correctly. Lleidr's masters had told her she was far to clever for her own good and to just shut up. As the library seemed to be the refuge for the timid acolytes who lived here, Lleidr avoided after that first look. She got the feeling that for boring archivists, a Reclaimant was a scary taste of the dangers of the outside world.

The biggest disappointment was the garden. It was large, had a nice pool, but was all grass and palm trees. Nothing a Thyrsus would even begin to claim was natural. She was tempted to adjust it a little, but didn't want to disturb her hosts too much. If all went to plan, then things would get kicked up enough as it was. Having a friendly Sanctum to return to would be invaluable. Pissing off the scribes with a display of overt Life magic wouldn't be worth it, even if the place looked nicer.

"Hey, bookworm," Lleidr called out to one of the others the morning after her arrival.

The man attempted to supress a scowl, but failed, probably deliberately. "My name is Carnegie, and I am a Censor of the Archivist faction, I am entitled to a certain level of respect."

Lleidr smiled, "Carnegie? Yes, it fits, congratulations, you have my respect, but that doesn't mean I'm going to treat you any better. I need an Uber, you guys know if they come here, or should I head off down the street?"

"An... Uber?" Carnegie echoed, clearly confused.

"Oh, for the love of the gods," Lleidr exhaled. "Do you guys ever leave the house? You know its the 21st century yes?" The man just stared at her. "Never mind, you get back to your books. I'm going out on a reccy, I'll be back later. What's your rules on bringing back one night stands? You let Sleepers in here?" The man just continued to stare and Lleidr just laughed, "I'll take that as a 'no' then. Laters nerd."

Ignoring the obviously confused young man, Lleidr, headed for the door, tugging out her phone as she did so. She watched the signal bar creep up the further she got from the magically imbued house until it finally connected with the local service provider. Pressing a few icons and she leant against a lamppost to wait for the car to arrive.

---

Los Angeles County Museum of Art
La Brea

Only Americans would put ancient artefacts in a building and call it art, Lleidr mused. Back home, it was just called a museum and didn't enter into this pretentious crap. It may well be art, in a purely technical sense, but what she was looking for was only art in the sense that it might look pretty on a shelf, and things on shelves were her speciality. She browsed the entrance and the surroundings of the building, keeping an eye out for CCTV, security patrols and other such things. There was no definite location for the item she was seeking, but this seemed as good a place as any to start. If it was as powerful as claimed, it should ping off her mage sight once she got close enough, but finding it was only half the job. Retrieving it for the rightful acquisition of the Mysterium was the fun part.

"Twenty five dollars?" Lleidr exclaimed when the admissions clerk asked for the money. "What the actual... you know in the UK, all this stuff is free to see? Bleeding me dry, totally." She muttered and handed over the requisite funds and smiled sarcastically as she received her ticket. "Have a nice day," she said, before the hapless attendant could. Examining the ticket, in case it was laced with gold or something, she headed for the entrance and spent the next few hours looking around, pinging her mage sight off everything she could get her hands on. If it was here, she'd find it. If it wasn't, well shit. This trip was going to bankrupt her. There'd be some expenses claim after this, for sure.

[Luminesa]

A loud rap tune bombarded Alexei’s ears as he walked into the club. He had taken off his jacket and his vest, and yet despite looking less scholarly he still looked out-of-place. The gun was in his pocket, a solid reminder of his mission and how he needed to accomplish it. Even in a bar full of vampires and ghouls he could not simply draw his sword or spear. The Masquerade was too fragile, and the human men and women around him who were lured into the vampires’ traps would not be able to comprehend how he had his powers.

Once again he was reminded of how he did not fit with society, as he walked around. A pretty young woman brushed past him and smiled at him. He sensed she was a human. Long black hair, a tan, a strapless black dress, and red heels. As he walked past her, he looked at her for a moment, but then he turned away and blushed. He wondered if she perhaps thought him strange, for standing in the middle of the club confused as to whether or not to approach a girl.

For a second he almost understood why other people drank to feel a little loose. Yet he was not here to drink and to socialize. He just hoped she and other humans would not be caught in the oncoming violence. He walked toward the bar and sat down, trying to relax.

“...Look like you need something to drink. What can I get you?...” The bartender, a young Ghoul, stared at him and grinned.

He barely heard the bartender over the crashing waves of sound around him, but he nodded.

“...Excuse me?...Did you say something?”

“Oh!...Water. Water please.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, that’s all, I’m...I don’t like to drink by myself.” The excuse he hoped would be good enough. He sighed as the bartender walked away to pour him a glass, and while Alexei was unnerved by the Ghoul bartender, he was not looking for Ghouls. Maybe a dancer would come to the bar and he could attempt to flirt with her...except he had no idea how to flirt.

[Imperialisium]

Los Angeles County Museum of Art
La Brea

The Staff of Ahriman was suspended on a clear plastic support, allowing onlookers to view the entirety of the staff from a raised plinth about half a foot off the ground, and slightly angled back to rest in the plastic cradle. The Black Iron core of the staff was wrapped in Gold wire. Giving a black and yellow diagonal pattern along the body of the staff till it reached the head. Whereby four solid Gold Gryphons reared in an ivory girdle that screwed in the top. Lapis Lazuli, a pair of rubies, and numerous sapphires studded the ivory girdle and the eyes of the Gryphons. To the Sleepers about it the staff seemed, well, mundane save for its seven figure value as an artifact. It's name after the 5th Century BC Persian Mage that forged and bore it. Yet for the supernaturally attuned it gave off a dull aura of power.

Clear, bullet proof, thick hardened plastic encased the staff. A key lock barring easy access. Along with the usual security suite of a web of invisible lasers that would sound off if one broke in at night. A weight plate underneath the case was synched to the precise ounces of the staff's own weight so someone could not just lift the case off without tripping the alarm. It was suitably protected from mundane snatching that was for sure.


Coven of the Purple Hearts

Alexei was pretty much unable to keep his nervousness from getting picked up on by the vampires in the club. He was out of place and gave off a vibe of suspicion. Innocent, but too innocent, the kind that caused trouble for establishments such as this. The Ghoul bartender obviously was tipped off by it. Sure, Alexei was technically old enough to drink. But his body language and call for water was a bit much in a seedy joint like this that could not afford to lose a liquor license. It'd be the death of their business. The Ghoul slid the glass of cold water across to Alexei and motioned for a Security guard.

The muscled, Ghoul, bodyguard walked up to Alexei and had a polite but stern tone. "Mind if we see your ID there bud?" The security guard held out his palm expectantly.

Anna's Mansion
Anna's mansion was a hub of activity as one would see numerous black SUV's, a couple of vans, and several cars idling in the lot before the expansive home. Outside numerous ghouls and vampires unloaded weapons, explosives, body armor, and all manner of instruments of combat. Loading them into a depot in the garage supervised by Ancilla's from various Camarilla clans. Anna was done letting Jakkar sulk with what few minions he had left. Tomorrow night she was going to deal with the contender who challenged her for leadership of the Camarilla back in January. To consolidate her hold over the Sect in Los Angeles and ensure no more divisions among the Ventrue Clan in opposition to her rule.

[Luminesa]

Los Angeles County Museum of Art
La Brea

The Staff of Ahriman was suspended on a clear plastic support, allowing onlookers to view the entirety of the staff from a raised plinth about half a foot off the ground, and slightly angled back to rest in the plastic cradle. The Black Iron core of the staff was wrapped in Gold wire. Giving a black and yellow diagonal pattern along the body of the staff till it reached the head. Whereby four solid Gold Gryphons reared in an ivory girdle that screwed in the top. Lapis Lazuli, a pair of rubies, and numerous sapphires studded the ivory girdle and the eyes of the Gryphons. To the Sleepers about it the staff seemed, well, mundane save for its seven figure value as an artifact. It's name after the 5th Century BC Persian Mage that forged and bore it. Yet for the supernaturally attuned it gave off a dull aura of power.

Clear, bullet proof, thick hardened plastic encased the staff. A key lock barring easy access. Along with the usual security suite of a web of invisible lasers that would sound off if one broke in at night. A weight plate underneath the case was synched to the precise ounces of the staff's own weight so someone could not just lift the case off without tripping the alarm. It was suitably protected from mundane snatching that was for sure.


Coven of the Purple Hearts

Alexei was pretty much unable to keep his nervousness from getting picked up on by the vampires in the club. He was out of place and gave off a vibe of suspicion. Innocent, but too innocent, the kind that caused trouble for establishments such as this. The Ghoul bartender obviously was tipped off by it. Sure, Alexei was technically old enough to drink. But his body language and call for water was a bit much in a seedy joint like this that could not afford to lose a liquor license. It'd be the death of their business. The Ghoul slid the glass of cold water across to Alexei and motioned for a Security guard.

The muscled, Ghoul, bodyguard walked up to Alexei and had a polite but stern tone. "Mind if we see your ID there bud?" The security guard held out his palm expectantly.

Anna's Mansion
Anna's mansion was a hub of activity as one would see numerous black SUV's, a couple of vans, and several cars idling in the lot before the expansive home. Outside numerous ghouls and vampires unloaded weapons, explosives, body armor, and all manner of instruments of combat. Loading them into a depot in the garage supervised by Ancilla's from various Camarilla clans. Anna was done letting Jakkar sulk with what few minions he had left. Tomorrow night she was going to deal with the contender who challenged her for leadership of the Camarilla back in January. To consolidate her hold over the Sect in Los Angeles and ensure no more divisions among the Ventrue Clan in opposition to her rule.

Alexei sat quietly at the bar and looked around, until he noticed the large Ghoul bouncer approaching him from the other side of the club. He wondered if he had done anything wrong, and he could not think of anything. Perhaps his odd appearance tipped someone off about him. He must have realized I don’t exactly fit-in, in this sort of place, he figured. He then hopped off the stool and approached the bouncer quietly, knowing he had no choice but to show his ID. He did not want to cause a scene, not immediately. Yet if they knew who he was, he would be in trouble.

“Yessir, one moment,” he answered politely. He usually carried his ID in his coat-pocket, and his coat was outside. Luckily, however, he had moved it to his pants pocket before he had walked back into the club. He stared at it for a moment, and he handed it to the bouncer. In the meantime, just in case the bouncer decided to attack him if he was identified as a former Inquisitor, he began to hum a hymn under his breath. The tune might not have been instantly recognizable to the Ghoul, but if he decided to threaten Alexei then he would sense the aura of True Faith around his body.

Meanwhile, in the corner, just out of sight, Mikhailov seemed to be watching the occurrence. Oddly enough he now had no signs of a violent murder on his clothes, but any Mages who might have seen Mikhailov outside would have known he was carefully using his Light Magic to puppeteer images of himself to spy on Alexei. He knew he would need help if he got in trouble.

[Imperialisium]

Coven of the Purple Heart

The bouncer watched Alexei with a furrowed brow as the young man looked at his ID for a minute. As if he himself was verifying it's validity. More to cause suspicion to the bouncer. Even if not incidental in purpose. The Bouncer took the ID and scrutinized it heavily. Feeling its texture with his fingers and thumb. Examining the serial and back of the ID as well. Looking at Alexei and the picture upon it as well. Matching facial features and eye color. After a solid minute the Bouncer looked at the bartender and then Alexei. Handing him back the ID. "Sorry for the trouble." said the Bouncer as he walked. The Bartender refilled Alexei's glass of water as well before moving off to take another drink order.

Meanwhile some of the girls seemed to be peering around the booths. Then moving into a back office that simply said, 'MANAGEMENT,' over the door way. Evidently they had realized one of their own is now inexplicably missing....


The Abandoned Consilia
Santa Ana Mountains

Raziyon had picked up the log book and was reading it when one of the Riders approached. "Found another servants body in a small closet in one of the other rooms. Looks like he had died hiding there." Raziyon did not look up and simply kept reading. "Sir?" said the Rider. Raziyon still did not look up, instead he kept reading, but this time out loud.

"May 22nd,
The Experiment was a success, the door was opened by Reymond and the other Mages, yet it would not close. Allowing all manner of horror to walk through. The door would not shut. Six adepts perished and some tentacled horror devoured Carter in Room 96 during the night. The watch slew it and managed to slay several other creatures that had come through the door way. We do not know what rift we have opened or to where.

May 23rd,
Carter was seen, alive, walking the hallways near Room 96 and the 4th floor gallery. Spectral analysis confirmed him as a ghost. Reymond and several other Mages managed to banish the ghost and are working to shut the Doorway. They have determined to have opened a doorway into the Umbra. As to where in relation they are not certain. A team of volunteers is setting out tomorrow morning to try and find out where exactly the other side of the door ends up. Further, we have contained several horrors on sub-level 9. They cannot leave this place. Reymond has already raised the barriers. It would take a relic to blast open such a barrier."

"That doesn't sound particularly pleasant." The rider hefted his repeating crossbow. Raziyon continued," May 24th through the 26th is too decayed to figure out much. The next readable entry is from the 27th and states that they managed to exterminate a couple horrors but one of the acolytes was dragged by a writhing maw into a side room. It was there that we discored they had broken into a side annex and tunneled down to sub-level 10. Acolyte presumed dead."

"Any idea of what the Experiment was?" asked the second Rider. Raziyon just shook his head, "This Guard was low level. His entries prior only spoke of it as, The Experiment, nothing more."

"Then what happened?"

"May 28th,

Exploration team hasn't reported back in 48 hours. Reymond concerned. Sent a magical probe but it retreated saying that something was on the other side waiting. All work is now being done to close the Doorway. Sub-levels 9 and 10 are barricaded and cordoned off with magical and mundane security measures in place. Cannot sleep well at night knowing things stalk on those levels.


June 1st,

Haven't slept well for a few days. Reymond and surviving mages have been working to close the Doorway with some success. It is slowly shrinking. But reports of Spectres, in the image of the Exploration team we sent through the Doorway, have cropped up on sub-levels 3 and 4. Containment protocols enacted and and an extermination team has been finding and banishing them one by one.


June 2nd,

Something broke the barriers on Sub-level 9 but only the corpse of the acolyte was caught on camera stumbling through the breach. Security team sent and they put down the zombie. But that is not all. Something raided the residential rooms on the second floor. Broke into Master Carlwrights room. He hasn't been seen since. I want to leave this place but with the barriers up there is no escape.


June 3rd,
The Doorway is shut. But approximately two hours ago we were beset on all tides by deformed maddening horrors. We slew many but lost half of our remaining number driving them back to sub-level 9 and 10. Reymond tried sending an emergency communique to other Consilia yet no reply. He fears our transmissions, both magical, and mundane are being blocked by something. He leads an assault tomorrow to rid the evil in the sub-levels.

June 4th,
Reymond led the party to the sub-levels but it was an ambush. I could only watch as the video from the camera feeds went out. Only hearing the audio from the screams as the entire party perished. At least we thought. When the video cut back on we only saw Reymond crawling bloody on the floor of sub-level 6. We retrieved him and brought him to the medical ward. He was incoherent and rambling the entire time. Speaking of the Abyss and how we are all doomed. I will try to escape tonight.

June 8th,

I tried to escape through the barriers but could not. I tried for three days with some others. But the ways are shut and will not open. Even if we get outside the magical barriers keep us from leaving the grounds. We tried to send radio transmissions to neighrboring Consilia to no reply. We've barricaded ourselves on the first floor with all the provisions we can muster.

June 13th,
Something awoke me in the night. Banging on the doors. It was the voice of Reymond. We had tried to bring him with us when we barricaded our way in but refused. Running deep into the facility and we dare not chase after him. His voice was frightened and full of fear. We dared not open the door lest it be a trick. His voice throughout the night began to slowly change. Becoming one of scorn and throwing insults at us for our cowardice. Then the banging ceased at around 8 in the morning. We still cannot leave this place.


June 25th,

We are out of water and food for a couple days now. Thirsty, hungry, we found Matthew scrawling horrible images on the floor in the bathroom. Something is not right with him. He attacked us and we locked him in there. I fear we may all die here..."


"None made it out it seems." said the second rider.


"None did." Raziyon closed the log book and placed it back infront of the skeleton. "We must try to get out of here. But I fear we may have to venture deeper into this place to find out the means how. Come, let us go." Raziyon led the other rider out and met up with his other compatriots standing near the barricaded double doors leading to the rest of the Consilia. It was barricaded with furniture and a steel piece of piping used to jam the lock. Raziyon pulled the pipe out and gently placed it on the floor. The others carefully extricating enough furniture to slowly crack open the door.


Raziyon hefted a repeating crossbow and nodded to one of the other armored vampire soldiers. The armored soldier slowly pulled the door open on its old hinges. Generating a light squeek. Musty, old, dry air filled the vampires nostrils as Raziyon peered into the gloom. His vampire sight allowing him to penetrate the darkness and make out the furniture, flooring, and shape of the room perfectly. As if it was still daylight. Raziyon swung around to check the other side of the threshold. Stepping through the door and into a large octagonal space with a vaulted ceiling. Staircases led up to a door to the second floor. No doubt more residential rooms. Six other doors led to various other places in the Consilia. Behind Raziyon his armored compatriots one by one stepped through the door way. Weapons raised and ready.

[Luminesa]

Alexei breathed a deep sigh of relief, as the bouncer expressed that he did not recognize him. He took a while reading over his little ID, but he simply gave him an apologetic look, handed him back his ID, and left him alone. As soon as he walked away, however, the Mikhailov clone approached, and the former Inquisitor gave a look of shock. "...Doctor Mi-"

"Shhhhh! I told you...blend-in!" the Mage interrupted, as he walked over and stared toward the bartender. "One Moscow Mule for my friend, please. He needs to get a little bit more than drunk. Also a glass of water. Make it extra-cold. I'll have a Moscow Mule as well," he requested. He then turned toward Alexei and grinned impishly.

"...Wh...What are you doing?"

"It's all a part of the plan," he answered, leaning his face toward him and whispering. His eyes were glittering like prisms, a hint that the Mikhailov who appeared before Alexei was an illusion, a reflection and puppet of the Mage who continued to stand outside. "They're suspecting us. You get a little buzzed and go flirt with that pretty woman who walked by, I'll find another girl for you to...deal with. But drink, and work some courage. Trust me. And hey, it might be funny to see you get drunk."

When the bartender returned with their drinks, Alexei took a sip of the Mule. The strong, spicy, slightly tangy taste of the drink caused him to cough and to blink, a reaction which earned a cold look from Mikhailov. When he turned to the Mage and saw his reaction, Alexei turned to the bartender. "I...I'm sorry, I..."

"He usually drinks a little more than this, but he's not feeling well. Recent breakup. Do you know the name of that young lady who just walked by, by the way?" Mikhailov eyed the bartender and nodded toward the woman Alexei had passed.

The former Inquisitor looked back toward her and blushed. He took another sip of his Mule, which caused him to blush more. "...She reminds me of her..."

"Hm?"

"...Veronica..." His voice seemed rather wistful, and he sighed.

Mikhailov was amused, and turned back to the bartender. "Yeah, get her over here, see if we can get these two together. Maybe a room while you're at it."

Alexei gave a shocked look to the Mage, who simply winked at him. Of course, neither individual would have known that his mischievous, good-time act was just that, an act. He needed to look innocuous, as he saw the other dancers going to management about their missing co-worker.

[Xah]

Lleidr
Mysterium Safe House
Bel Air
Los Angeles

"All right nerds, listen up," Lleidr said.

She'd returned to the safe house from the museum with the beginnings of a plan in her head, but it would require the assistance of the book nerds if it was to be done easily. The location scout went well; she hadn't expected to see the staff so blatantly displayed, or so relatively unguarded, from a supernatural point of view. It was clear the Sleepers had no idea what they had, and that there seemed to be no supernatural oversight of the object. Taking the artefact would be an interesting challenge, but actually keeping the object and getting it safely to a Mysterium vault would be harder. No doubt every Count Tom, Wolfy Dick and weirdo Harry would come screaming for it as soon as it was out in the open.

Gathering the house's occupants in the library, she got out a map of the museum and some other details and looked around.

"The Staff of Ahriman is in the LA County Museum of Art, and I intend to steal it, but I can't do this alone." Lleidr said. "Well, I could, but it'd be harder, and more risky. You lot are mages, Mysterium mages, so it's time to actually get your hands dirty instead of shuffling bits of paper and keeping your heads down, right?"

"Are you serious?" One of the curators replied, looking shocked. "I didn't sign up for this."

"You did, the moment you Awoke and decided you were a Diamond Order mage and not an evil-son-of-a-bitch Seer," Lleidr retorted. "If the Seers, or worse, knew what was just sitting there, you think they'd let it be? I ain't got a clue what it does, but I know it's got power and all of us in this room signed up to protecting shit like that when we joined the Mysterium. It's our thing. Now, I don't know you lot from Adam, what paths do you all follow?"

There was muted mumbling from the others as they declared their Paths; two Obrimos, one Moros and a Mastigos. "Shame you're all under-powered; try getting out once in a while, practice your Watchtower granted skills, but I guess this will have to do. I got a plan that's a good old fashioned heist, breaking and entering. Once in, we should be able to bypass the security, grab the staff, and get out easy enough, especially if it looks like we didn't take anything. Once out though," she let out a breath. "How secure is this house? Think we can bring it back here, or should I hightail it out of here?"

The others just looked at each other in a way that screamed 'no idea'.

"Okay, well, I've no further instructions past 'get the thing' so we'll bring it back here and hope this place has enough protection." Lleidr sighed. "So. The Plan. You and I," she said, gesturing to the Moros. "We'll head back to the museum; you can use your magic to examine the staff, work out its weight and size, then we can make a suitably sized replica once we get back here. Then, we can go break in; lasers and alarms can be dealt with by you Obrimos, Moros and I here will sort out the locks and Mastigos, well, I'm sure there's Sleeper guards around. I'm sure you and I can deal with them in an unobtrusive way. All clear?"

Again, the others just looked at each other, but Lleidr carried on regardless. "Splendid. Don't worry, worst case scenario, we all get arrested, but I'm sure the Mysterium will come through for us. Even if they don't, Sleepers never built a jail that keep mages out, am I right?"

---

The return visit to the museum later that day was just as expensive, and just as crowded with Sleepers. Whilst Lleidr had a different face on, as usual, her companion just had to make do with a hat to hide his features. The Moros quietly examined the staff using covert magics as best as he can, whilst Lleidr watched the guards, looked for cameras and generally did her usual pre-job recon. All done, they returned to the house where, much to Lleidr's surprise, the others had actually used their initiative to acquire a 3D printer. Whilst the geeks figured out how it worked and started creating a plan for the replica staff, Lleidr checked out the house's defences. It had been a Mysterium place for so long, it was bound to have some kind of magical defences, surely? She wasn't too impressed though; whilst it was more than just a regular Sleeper house, it lacked a guardian, hallow and even some of the most basic wards. Well, she'd rope the others into casting some of that later.

She fired off a query to her superiors in the hope that they'd know what to do with the artefact once obtained, and a request for some slightly more capable individuals to boost the house's magical potential, but wasn't about to delay the heist; she was supposed to be capable. Asking for help seemed, well, unprofessional. She was tempted to hang around for a bit after this mission; the nerds already here had potential, and LA seemed ripe for the picking, even for non-magical stuff, and she could poke around, see what the local mage scene was like. The damned Free Council was bound to be here, Hollywood and all that. She'd heard that they were really interested in using special effects technology to mitigate Paradox. She wasn't convinced herself, but the libertines were always pushing the boundaries of what was acceptable mage behaviour.

After checking in on the progress on the 3D printing, Lleidr decided to go for a sleep; she'd been awake for almost four days and although her life magic made that not a problem, sleep was still really useful. Letting the others know that they'd be doing the heist the next night, she found a suitable bedroom and crashed out.

[Imperialisium]

The Coven of the Purple Hearts

The Club carried on with its usual buzz, the bartender tried to get the girl over, but it took a little bit as she had been taken by another client. So after a full fifteen minutes she made herself around. Almost immediately however it would become apparent that she was not a vampire. Mikhailov would feel her aura as human, she was a ghoul, evidently not all the dancers were vampires. This complicated matters as the girl was now smiling at Alexei. Further, they were running out of time as the crowd had grown very thin. The club was nearing closing for the night and aside from Mikhailov and Alexei there was only a couple older men left in the place. They're departure a few minutes later signaled them to being the only two non-club employees left in the establishment; of course they never got their chance to bring their plan further to fullfillment.


The doors swung open and in came a small cylindrical device that clattered to the floor in the middle of the club. Soon a deafening sound and blinding flash filled the hall for a brief second. A flashbang. Everyone covered their ears and or eyes, several of the women screamed, the bartender dropped a pitcher which shattered on the floor. In strode Slade, a hulking man, well he was not a man but thanks to a Changelings Mask he looked it. Lowering his shotgun he fired off two rounds in rapid succession. Catching a dancer in the chest and a security guard in the face. Downing them. The dancer however seemed to slowly get up again with fangs sliding down from her gums. Jonah whipped out a pistol and cranked two rounds into her skull. The dancer did not make a second attempt to rise.

Another security guard pulled a 9mm and popped off a few rounds at Jonah. But the latter was already moving and ducked behind a dancing platform. Popping up he fired three rounds from his pistol. The security guard took two in the chest and one in the forehead. Slouching against the wall and slowly sliding to the floor with a trail of blood and brain matter smeared behind him. The bartender ran from behind the counter. Making for the exit. A pistol round struck him the back, no longer moving as he crashed to the floor still. Slade whipped around at a pair of yells. A pair of dancers jumped him with claws for hands and fangs barred. He fired and pumped the shotgun with speed and precision. Each dancer taking two blasts full of shot to the torso before a pistol round to the skull. It was mechanical, precise, and Slade was not taking any chances. He continued on his path through the establishment, seemingly ignoring or having not noticed Mihkailov and Alexei.


The Museum of La Brea

The Staff of Ahriman was not only a prize for Mages. There where others watching the staff and waiting for the opportune moments to fetch it for themselves. A pair of men in black suits, grey trenchcoats and hats, had come by not long after Lleidr had left the second time. Looking over the piece, one holding a small device as if gathering readings from it, while the other kept watch. "Do you think that Mage will try and steal it soon?"

"I am certain of it. We got orders to keep that from happening. Lethal force if necassary." responded the man keeping watch. To the average passerby they would seem like rather inocuous men. Just well dressed middle age gentlemen admiring the art and artifacts from around the world. Maybe even mistaken for museum workers making sure the device was alright in its encasement. But to a Mage and anywhere else savvy in the world of the supernatural and paranormal. They were definitely Agents of the Technocracy. The Technocratic Union generally did not care for magical artifacts beyond destroying or containing them. This one was in the take-and-contain-for-study category. As such the Technocratic Union did not just swap the staff and destroy the original when they had the chance to do so for the entirety of it being on display. The present of mages, complicated matters, so to speak.

"Lets go, we have the cameras tapped, we'll know if she makes her move." said the sentry agent and the duo shuffled off down the hall. They had fake ID's that worked on the Museum security system. As far as anyone in the Museum would know. They were working for the Museum's security system company just running checks and doing an extended monitoring of the system's workings.

[Luminesa]

Time marched on, and Mikhailov knew the club was closing soon. He could see small crowds of people leaving together. Some were sober, some were laughing and joking from a buzz, some had clothing items missing. He then turned his eyes from them toward the girl who had caught Alexei’s attention. He realized she was a Ghoul, as she walked over and smiled at Alexei. Yet he did not speak. His morbid curiosity made him want to observe how the former Inquisitor would respond to the beautiful young woman.

Alexei himself noted that most everyone had left, and that the remaining staff was cleaning the mess left by the customers. Nervously, he approached the Ghoul woman, who seemed pleasant enough despite being the very thing he was supposed to fight. He could now of course sense she was not human, but he could not bring himself to attack her. He watched her face, her flirty smile and her low-glowing eyes, and a fight broke-out in his mind. His body began to sweat. He reached toward her hands and wordlessly examined her.

...Should I?...Should I... His eyes watched her, and then turned back to Mikhailov.

The Mage was surprised to see he was looking over at him. Is the alcohol melting his brain? Why hasn’t he kissed her yet? Why is he looking at me? He tried to motion to him to kiss the girl, almost as though he was guiding a child to write a Math problem on the white board. In reality he wanted to shake him for acting so shy, but he did not. He looked away and shook his head, wondering how he had so much patience with Alexei.

BLAM!

PAPAPAPAPAPAPA!

He turned just in time to see Slade barrel through the door, gunning at the Ghouls and Vampires in the establishment. The woman Alexei was about to kiss fell immediately, her head and face completely shattered by bullets. Almost instinctively, he pulled Alexei back to keep him from being shot, and he glared at the blood on both of their outfits. “...What an animal, he can’t even kill cleanly. Are you alright?”

Alexei’s face went pale for a moment, as the woman’s face exploded in front of him, but he quickly composed himself, showing the inner toughness that he had developed as an Inquisitor. Even if he had wanted to break down, he could not. His sense of duty prevented him, and as he saw Slade attacking the Vampires and Ghouls, he knew to jump into battle. He summoned his sword, and as a Vampire tried to attack Slade from behind, he rushed forward and chopped the foe’s head clean off her neck.

“...We were supposed to drag them out back, but I guess I have to actually fight clean now...” Mikhailov’s eyes glowed a bright, electric-blue, and he held-out his hands. Lightning immediately struck at least three vampires, one of whom was directly behind Alexei. The former Inquisitor did not even flinch, even as his hair floated around due to the static. ...A cold-blooded killer...I can see how he would not fit into society...Killing out of necessity does not scare him...He might even walk out of here without taking off that jacket...heh...He really is an Inquisitor...

The carnage was eventually finished, and Alexei stared up at Slade, his expression blank. All the meekness and softness was gone, replaced by the thousand-mile stare of a man ready for battle. Mikhailov sensed that he was willing to fight this new unknown, so he moved behind him and snatched his arm. “...Alexei!” he whispered.

No response.

“Alexei! Turn around and look at me!”

No response.

Mikhailov switched to Russian, snapping at him in a way that Slade would hopefully be unable to translate. “If you get into a fight with this maniac, I will leave your body here to rot. Now we grab our prey, we need to get back to the Provisional’s mansion and bring him your loot,” he ordered.

Finally Alexei turned and stared at him, seemingly coming back to his senses. His eyes softened and he blushed, as though he had forgotten something. Mikhailov could not quite tell what was on his mind, and did not bother to decipher his thoughts. He walked away and began to gather the remains of their battle, taking the bodies of several dancers.

Alexei followed him, picking-up the body of the Ghoul woman with whom he had been infatuated. Now that he seemed to come back to attention, the deep sadness in his eyes threatened to overflow. Yet he held together, took her body, and looked back for a moment at Slade. He then hurried after Mikhailov, out the backdoor.

“In the portal, now!” the Mage ordered. He had it open as soon as Alexei hurried through the backdoor, and he walked through the light portal without looking back...

“...Alexei, you look like a butcher.”

In the streetlight above the Provisional’s mansion, Mikhailov could see Alexei’s face, and he was...strangely amused. He snickered at the grotesque sight of Alexei’s gentle, pale face, silvery hair, and modest clothes nearly covered in Vitae. The Mage tried to look serious, but he found the image shocking...shocking and...

No! Focus Mikhailov! Focus! he ordered himself.

“...I am one. And I must be. Is there something wrong?...You look...distracted.” Alexei’s soft voice pierced the Mage’s ominous thoughts, and he gave him a kind smile, the same smile he gave when he spoke to him in the library. “...Blood cannot distract me. Gore cannot distract me. I am a weapon...You will understood in time. One can not afford to have their affections, not when they are required to kill whatever threatens the Masquerade.”

Mikhailov now snickered out-loud. “Oh but I saw how you looked at this woman,” he taunted, pointing down to the remains of the Ghoul. “You held her hands! You were seconds from kissing her! I can’t even imagine what she would have done with you next. Admit it. That is what you longed for, that’s why you didn’t want to come into the bar. You knew exactly what would happen...” He took Alexei’s hands in his. They were cold and shaking. He knew as well as Mikhailov what would come next.

“...You’d fall in love.” He spoke the last words almost in a whisper, but they were meant to pierce Alexei’s heart in its tender spot.

His plan worked, at least in part. The former Inquisitor kept his eyes low for a moment and he frowned. He moved some of his hair out of his face with a hand, and then lifted his chin so that his eyes met the Mage’s own. His eyes were clear and full of silent indignance. They also sparkled with the tears he had tried to hold back. Yet he remained firm and stiff, glaring at Mikhailov for a few moments. He then mumbled something under his breath, his words reproachful and heartbroken. “...I...you...don’t know...”

“...Hm?...What was that?” Mikhailov could not hear all the words. However, he saw the intensity in his companion’s face, and heard the aching in his voice.

Alexei turned and walked toward the door, giving no answer to the Mage.

“What? Are you going to hand me over? After I saved you and helped you kill those-”

The former Inquisitor knocked hard on the heavy door. Mikhailov hurried behind the gate once again, out-of-view, and listened. Alexei stood in the doorway and waited, now covered in blood and he swallowed his tears hard. Now he appeared to be a solid statue, and he even summoned his blood-covered sword to give proof of his work. “...Burnt offerings and sacrifices I do not want, says the Lord...Thus says the Lord, a contrite heart is what I seek...But my offerings are also my heart...my sinful heart...” he prayed, his voice too low for Mikhailov to hear.

[Imperialisium]

Coven of the Purple Hearts

Slade just gave a wry smile to Alexei for cutting down an opponent that had crept up behind him. Before unceremoniously returning to emptying copious amounts of lead in the direction of anything non-human. Why Slade did not assume Alexei and Mikhailov would be enemies? Consider it a professional acknowledgement for their assistance that he ignored them. So as Alexei and Mikhailov made their getaway from the carnage, Slade in his typical fashion of bellowing swears, emptied a shotgun shell into the face of a vampire stripper. He'd already blown off her legs at the knees a few seconds before. Casually reloading with one hand and racking the shotgun while pointing the muzzle casually about a struggling ghoul who was crawling. A pistol round having lodged in her hip.

"Sorry there love. Let me help with the pain."

"No, no, please!" screamed the dancer with tears in her eyes. Slade grinned as he painted the floor with her brains. Slade whirled around as heard someone running at him. Coming around he fired a blast at a woman coming from the management office. He missed. She darted with inhuman speed and leaped from a platform while grasping a chair. Whipping the chair over her head like an axe throw the heavy chair smacked a surprised Slade in the chest. Air left his lungs as he was slammed onto his back. A rib or two definitely broken. He rolled to his stomach and tried to get up. Something grasped his left foot with an iron grip.

"Sorry sugar, Management is asking you to leave." She swung and he slid, lifted off the ground, and was let go. Flying mid air to come crashing down onto a table. Collapsing the table under him into splinters. "Fuck. Definitely a rib." gasped Slade as he got up. Delivering a brutal uppercut to the vampire. Busting her jaw and sending teeth clattering to the ground. A name on her outfit flashed: Darlene.

"You must be the head whore?" mocked Slade as he struggled to his feet with shaking knees. Pulling a knife from his back pocket, flicking open the blade, revealing a four inch butterfly knife. Darlene spat blood and rolled away with supernatural speed. Delivering a heel kick that smacked Slade in the stomach. He vomited onto the ground and parried a second brutal heel kick that would have cracked his skull if it had landed.

Slade rolled forward and brought the blade down. Darlene caught his hand and with vampiric strength forced him to drop the knife. Swiping her hand her nails dug out streaks of flesh from his face. Slade growled in anger and headbutted. Breaking her nose and adding to the stream of blood from her face. Darlene, still close to humanity to react in such a manner, stumbled back clutching her face. Slade pulled his pistol. Pumping six rounds into her chest cavity. Picking up his knife Slade crouched down and got to work taking the proof he needed back to the Prince. In explicate: Darlene's severed head.

Provincials Mansion

The Provincial door's opened once more to reveal the older Inquisitor. "You, again?" The older Inquisitor looked at what Alexei had with him, that being corpses, and his mood darkened. The man had undoubtedly killed something or someone as some sort of proof. "Wait here." said the older Inquisitor.

A moment later the doors opened and a pair of Condotierri filed out pointing MP5's at Alexei. Another came from around the bushes wielding an AR-15. Then a second lance, three more Condotierri, came from the other side wielding shotguns. They moved out by the gate and returned with Mikhailov before them.

"Your pet Mage should know that hiding from those with True Faith is a fools errand." said the older Inquisitor. Coming into view with a man fastening a suit jacket to himself. Still in his slippers. That man was the Provincial. Arquart. His brown hair parted down the center to reveal a widows peak. His brown eyes and aquiline nose characterized his French heritage.

"Alexei Bancroft I presume. With his pet wizard." said Arquart with a small hint of a French accent. "Under normal circumstances I would have you slain for violating this house of God with your bloody evidence." Arquart stepped down to eye level with Alexei. "I am informed as per your trial and the sentence you received. Further the actions and confession you gave Maxwell." Arquart looked at Mikhailov for a moment then back to Alexei before continuing, "Let this be a learning moment for you Alexei Bancroft. What would be the point in sentencing you for your crimes, only for you to get off easy by simply going off and having such a sentence overturned not six hours later? It would make such punishments moot if it were so easy to get back into our and God's good graces. So your deed tonight is noted but your excommunication will not be lifted by me and your status of Inquisitor will not be re-instated. So I suggest you leave this property."

Arquart turned and left. The older Inquisitor moved to block the doorway. The heavy mansion doors closing behind Arquart.

[Luminesa]

The door did open, but Alexei did not get the response he wanted so badly. Not the way he wanted it either. Arquart did show, but so did a large group of Inquisitors with large machine guns and other weapons. Mostly they were interested in Mikhailov, who had been standing a few feet away and was swept up by the group. Arquart’s presence was more intimidating for both of them, however. This calm, quiet man with an elegant French accent spoke to them without drawing a weapon himself, though his condemnation was the only weapon he truly needed.

Alexei’s bloodied face and body remained stiff and determined as Arquart spoke. He was willing to face death. Death would be martyrdom, and he was certain he would be forgiven for his sins if he died after killing so many vampires. He was doing what he had been ordered to do all of his life, without being told to do so. He was loyal, faithful, zealous even. White knuckles grasped at the sword in his hand. His eyes glittered with passion, and he shivered with anticipation as Arquart approached.

None of this mattered to the Provisional, however.

He was a firm, grounded man, and one who stood by the judgment Alexei had been given. He did look the former Inquisitor in the eyes, however, and gave him his full attention. Of course he also looked to Mikhailov, whom he correctly assumed to be Alexei’s companion, but he did not seem to be the primary concern. Alexei was the one said to be a heretic, a strange young man who had once been a shining star among young Inquisitors. Now he was a man with multiple guns in his face, derided as a supporter of dark forces. Arquart would not save him, and he left as soon as he told Alexei to think over his grave punishment. The men with guns followed, and soon the night was cold and silent again.

“...Hmph. They called me a pet. And your pet specifically. I’m surprised you’re not offended yourself...” Mikhailov seemed mostly unbothered by the affair, as he had been from the beginning. He had predicted Arquart’s response, and partially felt a sort of schadenfreude as he saw he was proven correct. Yet he was mystified by Alexei’s continued perseverance, against impossible odds. He would not get the answer he wanted, yet he still stood in the doorway, staring at the heavy doors. His hands were clasped together, and he seemed to forget about the world around him. “...Alexei?...”

The former Inquisitor continued to pray, and Mikhailov could hear his words as they spilled out in a near-silent mist, almost visible in the thick cold of the early morning.

The Mage approached him, and put a hand on his shoulder. “...Alexei. It’s after 3 AM, and there’s nothing we can do at this point. We’ll have to think of a plan later. We need to get rid of these bodies...”

Alexei bowed his head, seemingly ignoring him for a few moments. The whispering had stopped as Mikhailov spoke, however, and he seemed to lose himself in his thoughts. He then turned away from the door, but did not directly face Mikhailov. He instead turned to the bodies on the ground, and he opened his hand. Holy light covered his hand, and he touched one of the bodies in the pile. Soon, all of them set ablaze, and the smell of rot and Vitae filled the air for a few moments.

“...Huh. You didn’t want to drag them into an alley first? We’re right out in public, you know...” Mikhailov warned him.

Alexei did not answer. He simply watched as the vampires turned to dust. The light glowed in his eyes, and his hands were clasped once again. Even the possibility of breaking the Masquerade did not seem to faze him.

When the vampires were dust, then did Alexei turn to Mikhailov. He stared into his eyes, and put his sword away without looking away from him.

Mikhailov grinned, and folded his arms. “Are you thinking about fighting me again? After all, I did get implicated as-”

“My pet...” Alexei finished. He then looked away, and said nothing else.

“...Heh. What’s the matter? Not going to pet me and tell me I’m a good boy? Or do you want me to roll over and play dead?” he mocked.

“...Open the portal so we can go home,” Alexei answered.

“...What? Not going to respond? Come on, that part was at least rather funny,” he retorted. Alexei looked away now, and the Mage was aggravated. Usually he gave some sort of an answer, now he seemed uninterested in his snark. When he saw he was not going to get the reaction he wanted, he sighed and opened the portal. Once again, Alexei walked through it and did not look back.

Stepping back into his apartment felt foreign. Just a few hours ago he was in good standing with the Church and the Inquisition, and his home felt like a warm, comfortable place. Now it felt like a haze, an illusion of comfort. Alexei gave a deep sigh, and before Mikhailov even stepped through, he began to throw off the clothes which had been bloodied.

“...Heh. I can make that blood disappear, now, if you want...” Mikhailov answered, surprised to see Alexei in only an undershirt and jeans when he came through the portal. The former Inquisitor gave no answer, so he went ahead and used his Magic. The clothing was covered with beautiful light, which gave them the appearance and scent of cleanliness. He did the same with his own clothes, but Alexei did not appear to pay him any attention. He went and changed into a sweater, given he was quite cold when he had entered the house.

He then seemed to function as though Mikhailov had never entered the house. He put on a pot of coffee, one he would not drink for several hours. He picked-up his books and computer, and put them in his room. The sounds of items being shuffled into their proper locations, coffee bubbling, and clothing being folded and placed in drawers was such a mundane, listless combination, but for some reason Mikhailov sensed he had a reason for the silence. Once again, he was proven right.

Alexei finished his work in a few minutes, and then walked back into the living room. He approached Mikhailov slowly, and stopped when they stood inches apart. He stared up at his face, as though he was examining the Mage for some unknown malady on his skin. He did this for a good two or three minutes, not blinking as he looked him over. He then reached out, and put a hand on the side of the Mage’s neck, as he might do to check someone’s pulse.

Finally, Mikhailov seemed mildly unnerved. He did not understand this gesture, and he glared warily at his companion.

“...You were bitten, then...She did Kiss you.”

“What?!” The Mage did not expect for Alexei to guess he had been Kissed. After all, the wound was gone.

“...Her perfume. It’s mixed with yours. You got close enough to her that she Kissed you,” he explained. His stoic expression broke for a moment, and his eyes lit with wonder. “...How did it feel?”

“Hm?...” He remembered the sensation for a few moments, that melting feeling. The loss of reason, the weakness he felt. For a couple of seconds he had felt as though he had dissolved into nothing...but then the feelings of desire had been swept in hatred and disdain. But he did not feel like telling all of this to Alexei. “...Heh. What a foolish question. I didn’t care much for how it felt, I shot her and that’s what mattered,” Mikhailov answered carefully, a crooked grin on his face as he answered.

In response, Alexei showed the marks on his own neck once again. “...You can guess then where all of these came from...” he muttered.

The bite-marks. Mikhailov connected the dots and grinned. “Ahhhhh you little scamp! You love them and kill them before they can heal you! You’re a Black Widow! A vampire-eater! And you believe yourself to be so pure. How felicitous of you! How did that feel to you, hm, to destroy those who wish to take away your loneliness? What would your fellow Inquisitors say?...”

Alexei pulled up his collar, and continued to look up at Mikhailov. His eyes were now misty and exhausted, but still somehow full of life. He recalled the times when he had been Kissed, when he had mistaken the sensation for true love. Those were a few years ago now. Now he knew the truth, and the truth filled the sensation of the Kiss with a bitter poison. He knew it was not love and never could be.

After a few moments, a response rose to his throat. “...If you knew how much of myself I have lost to the Kiss...you would be horrified, rather than amused. Whether or not I shall be able to ever love someone who does not see me as a meal...is yet to be known. And when you are Kissed again, you will know this for yourself. Nothing is more painful than coming close...and realizing what you wanted...was never there for you...” he explained, his voice a tiny shiver. Smiling, gentle faces appeared in his mind’s eye, reminding him of how he had fallen for such tricks. He stared up at Mikhailov’s own glaring face, and wondered.

“...Why are you looking at me like that?”

“...It’s nothing...nothing at all...” Alexei answered, before a small, sad smile crept to his face. “...Good night, Mikhailov...” Without another word, he turned and walked to his room, closing the door behind him.

The Mage told himself he thought little of Alexei’s speech, but in reality he thought much of it. His thoughts had definitely wandered when the dancer had given him the Kiss, and had gone to thoughts he would not speak about with anyone he did not trust. Yet the sensation of the illusions passing away was miserable. He had reached for something golden in his mind, something that disappeared as soon as he saw it. Alexei was exactly correct, and this fact made him feel sick. Taking off his jacket and shoes, he flopped onto the couch and wondered if he could control his dreams. Maybe with this tumultuous night over, he could entertain his mind with his most secret desires.

Maybe he could also find a way to keep them from fading away...

Alexei himself went to bed and lay awake for a half hour, despite being so exhausted. All he had wanted to accomplish tonight had failed, and now he could die in his sleep and would still be excommunicated. He prayed to himself, hoping God would give him another chance for salvation. His heart panged, however, from other thoughts and sensations. Have I really...replaced what I hope to be love...with the Kiss?...God I want to love...for real, just once...I want to remember...what true love is really like... As he whispered this pair in his mind, finally he fell asleep, cradling a pillow between his arms.

[Luminesa]

Alexei’s dreams had been rather normal, after his dream involving Mikhailov. Most people would have wanted to have some sort of super-power to understand dreams, but he did wish to have such an ability. He did not like to have such prophetic dreams, as they frightened him. He knew himself how weak his own nature was, and his faith in God was the only thing that he felt kept him from falling entirely into nothingness. He knew to lower his face and to cover his head in the face of the still, small voice.

Tonight, the voice in his mind was not still and small. He felt as though he had been commanded to rise out of his own body, and when he stood he felt light. Warm. Free. He examined his arms and hands. They were normal. Yet his body was shivering, and not from the cold. As he got out of his bed, he walked around the room, and then out of the bedroom into the living room. He blinked, and stared around. Everything seemed to be normal. The clock read 4:15 AM, the TV was off, the apartment was neat, and Mikhailov was asleep on the couch.

As though he had been pulled by impulse, he approached the couch and knelt in front of Mikhailov, watching him sleep. Nothing seemed off about the Mage. He was a silent sleeper, and the blanket was barely draped over him as he slept with the throw pillow tucked under his head. Curious, he reached forward and touched his hair. He felt the Mage’s hair as though he was actually stroking the sleeping Mage’s hair, and he gasped. This dream was so mundane, yet so vivid. He could see, smell, hear, and touch everything. “...Why is this dream so real?...Is it...huh?...”

Once again, he felt beckoned by an unknown force to move. He stood, and walked in a sort of trance toward the door. As he stepped outside, he did not feel cold. Warmth surrounded him. “...Where am I supposed to go?...It is so early...What does one do so late at night?...” Many people might go party or eat at early hours in the morning, but Alexei had spent most of his nights patrolling and killing supernatural creatures. And his one experience in a club was one he would like to forget. Thus he almost seemed to ask the dream what it wanted from him.

[Imperialisium]

Alexei's Dream
Daytime

While it was daytime in Los Angeles. The Sun rising in the East and casting its bright rays along the Los Angeles plateau. Bathing the cityscape in orange, yellow, and white light. Illuminating the vast expanse of the Pacific Ocean stretching away from Los Angeles and into the far horizon. Alexei's apartment however was cast in shadow as the curtains were drawn. The hum and drum of the city seeming to pass the quaint little apartment by. Crowds of pedestrians went about their to's and fro's. Work and home. Errands and leisure. An endless stream of automobiles traveled up and down the motorways. The haze of the smog and pollution of the vast urbanite landscape tinting the sky a dull shade of brown. But as Alexei drifted off to sleep and began to wander about his subconscious domain. There was a pull, a calling, of something somewhere that should not be. Invading his personal dominion that was his dream. So as he opened the door and uttered words a voice answered to him. One that he recognized, for it had been burned into his head, and it made the blood in his body yearn for it. A sweet, like cascading honey, sultry and alluring voice. Tinted in an Eastern European accent no longer naturally found.

"You did not get the redemption you sought. I could have told you that myself, if you had asked, for what be the purpose of such a trial if it be overturned in the same night?" Alexei would turn and find a beautiful woman sitting on his sofa. Her feet up on his small coffee table. Wrapped in rainbow calf high socks. Tight jeans gripped her form and a grey sweater clad her upper body. A cup of steaming hot cocoa in her hand while her raven black hair was done up in a lazy bob on her head. This was not the Anna that Alexei had ever met before. It was almost jarring to see a woman that during his awakening hours could instill fear in so many supernatural horrors by merely being present. But now looking so innocent and welcoming. Sure, there were certain things off, like how when she took a sip she still had elongated canines. Her vampiric fangs still present. Though for some reason those pearly white instruments of Man's predator looked way less terrifying in Alexei's dream.

"It is quite interesting that your mind would dress me so. One might say that a part of you wishes this were true. Our bond works both way's Alexei. This was not happenstance that our minds would drift together so easily while we both slumber." She let out a wry smile and took another sip. A smooth palm padded the sofa next to her. Gesturing for him to come in and sit.

[Luminesa]

”Ah...wasn’t Mikhailov just...Prince Anna?” Alexei was about to question who the girl was, and why she was sitting on the couch on which the Mage had been sleeping. However, when he realized who she was, he blushed. His heart did indeed flutter in his chest, though he was surprised himself by Anna’s appearance. Anything was possible in a dream, but to see her in such casual, even quirky attire was...odd, but comforting. She looked pleasant, and playful. He himself was not very playful, but he was docile, especially so given the blood-bond, and he could not help but gaze at her.

“...My...wishes?...” He blinked. He wondered if he really wished Anna might appear that way. Or perhaps her appearance symbolized what he wanted from a partner. Veronica had been glitzy and glamorous, and while she occasionally relaxed and wore cute clothing, the world around her had been full of noise, confusion, flashing cameras, and tension. He could never have lived in such a world for a long time. The cute, soothing appearance Anna wore represented the quiet, peaceful life Alexei wanted deep down. He himself was dressed in a pink sweater, baggy jeans, and socks, and his hair fell around his back lazily. He began to feel tired, even, by the idea of going out.

Thus he did feel drawn to her. Despite wanting to go outside as a spirit to explore the dream-city, he felt more drawn to stay inside with Anna. Maybe she wanted to talk to him. He wondered if she was going to give him advice. He knew she was usually quite dangerous, but now they were in his apartment and just the two of them were together. His face remained pink as he approached her, and he lowered himself onto the couch slowly. He turned to her, his eyes sparkling. “...Since...you are here...um...did you...wish to speak to me?...Or...y-you are in my home, I should make you something to eat...if you do enjoy human food at all...I-I’m not a Michelin-star chef but...um...I would like for you to be comfortable...” he suggested, lowering his eyes as he spoke.

He seemed to forget that this ages-old vampire could kill him if she wanted. Yet she did not seem to be here to cause him danger. They sat inches apart, and he tugged on his collar as he sat next to her. He wondered if his bite-marks were visible in the dream. If she saw them, she might act. Or perhaps their meeting really would be a calm, uneventful one...

[Imperialisium]

Alexei's Dream
Daytime

Anna leaned in close to Alexei. So close that he could feel her breathe upon his neck. Vampires need not breathe, and generally old one's as she usually did not mother to feign to do so, but perhaps it was his mind adding that touch. "Your mind is a book to me Alexei. Tugging at your collar is not necessary. I already know what is there." Another sip of the hot cocoa. She grinned and moved away.

Anna leaned back on the couch and crossed her feet. Fluttering her tows in their rainbow calf high socks. Stretching them and her legs out as she reclined. Moving the steaming hot coca up to her perfectly reddish-pink lips she took another sip. She was obviously bemused at Alexei's reaction and his nervous words. His offer of breakfast warranted another wry smile and laugh at his mention of him not being a Michelin-star chef. "That would be lovely." said Anna in her characteristically sultry voice. She did feel his yearning to explore the dreamscape and so she spoke while he got up to prepare breakfast,"To dreamwalk is a dangerous thing Alexei. Within the confines of your own mind you are safe. But if you adventure too far outside of it, you may not find your way back, further there are things out there that walk in the world of dreams. Such things that would flay a man's soul by terror alone." Her mood darkened as she spoke those last words. Even the lighting in the apartment darkened to reflect this. Before brightening back up and her mood returning to a soft and welcoming smile. Evidently Anna know much about such horrors that stalk humanity's dreams as much as those when one is awake.

As Alexei got up to prepare breakfast he'd find a pair of arms wrapped around his waist. Her chin resting on his shoulder. "This is all you by the way." His subconsciousness, the part of the human psyche in its most raw form, she was letting it dictate how she moved. Then their hips began to sway lightly side to side. Alexei could easily still prepare breakfast this way, but one could say that his mind was indeed running wild in this literal day dream.

[Luminesa]

Alexei's Dream
Daytime

Anna leaned in close to Alexei. So close that he could feel her breathe upon his neck. Vampires need not breathe, and generally old one's as she usually did not mother to feign to do so, but perhaps it was his mind adding that touch. "Your mind is a book to me Alexei. Tugging at your collar is not necessary. I already know what is there." Another sip of the hot cocoa. She grinned and moved away.

Anna leaned back on the couch and crossed her feet. Fluttering her tows in their rainbow calf high socks. Stretching them and her legs out as she reclined. Moving the steaming hot coca up to her perfectly reddish-pink lips she took another sip. She was obviously bemused at Alexei's reaction and his nervous words. His offer of breakfast warranted another wry smile and laugh at his mention of him not being a Michelin-star chef. "That would be lovely." said Anna in her characteristically sultry voice. She did feel his yearning to explore the dreamscape and so she spoke while he got up to prepare breakfast,"To dreamwalk is a dangerous thing Alexei. Within the confines of your own mind you are safe. But if you adventure too far outside of it, you may not find your way back, further there are things out there that walk in the world of dreams. Such things that would flay a man's soul by terror alone." Her mood darkened as she spoke those last words. Even the lighting in the apartment darkened to reflect this. Before brightening back up and her mood returning to a soft and welcoming smile. Evidently Anna know much about such horrors that stalk humanity's dreams as much as those when one is awake.

As Alexei got up to prepare breakfast he'd find a pair of arms wrapped around his waist. Her chin resting on his shoulder. "This is all you by the way." His subconsciousness, the part of the human psyche in its most raw form, she was letting it dictate how she moved. Then their hips began to sway lightly side to side. Alexei could easily still prepare breakfast this way, but one could say that his mind was indeed running wild in this literal day dream.

Part of him was frightened that she knew what marks were around his neck, but as she moved close to him he seemed to calm down. Alexei could not name what about her made him feel so calm. He knew he was still under the blood-bond, but he had been bonded before and had not felt such peace. He let her move close to him, and did not push her away. The smell of the hot cocoa tickled his nose as Anna took another sip, and he smiled. “...Well then I...I will be glad to make us both something to eat. Let’s see...” He got up from the couch and began to think, walking toward his kitchen and looking around while Anna spoke.

Of course the dreamscape was dangerous, and nobody was capable of entirely controlling what happened in their dreams. Anna could have appeared as a bloodthirsty demon just as easily as she had appeared as a sweet, charming companion. Many nightmares of untold monsters and grotesque beings had filled his mind before, remnants of the things he saw while working as an Inquisitor. He turned to her as she warned him, and he heeded her words. “...It’s okay...I...I like to stay in anyway...I don’t do much outside of my home...I don’t have many people to meet...” he explained. As he decided what he wanted to cook, then, he walked around the kitchen and the cabinets gathering ingredients.

Honey, eggs, flour, sugar, milk, sausage, and a homemade strawberry preserve were a few of the items he pulled to make breakfast. He started by creating pastries, almost like turnovers, which he filled with honey and would drizzle with a little more when he finished. He cooked the sausage and eggs on the stove, and as he was working he felt two arms wrap around his waist. Anna put her head on his shoulder, and she whispered to him that this dream was his own. She was not influencing him.

He really did love her.

He loved her soft, graceful movements, her gentle voice, her pleasant-yet-overwhelming presence and spirit. The massive intelligence she carried with every twinkle of her eyes. She was far stronger than he, but she deferred to him in his own home. His body swayed with hers, and for a moment he forgot he was cooking. He closed his eyes for a second, and a small smile came to his face. He was not alone. He could share his home and his thoughts with someone, someone who seemed to love him in return.

As the sausage finished cooking, he moved to take the pastries out of the oven, and the scent of sweet, golden bread filled the kitchen. He drizzled a little more glistening honey over the pastries, he put the jam on the table, he made them each a plate of eggs and sausages, and the coffee finished just as he was about to sit down with her. He poured each of them a cup, and he sat down across from her. Still shy, he said grace quietly to himself and then smiled at her. “...I hope you enjoy it...I...I am happy...that you are here...And now that we are seated, did you wish to talk to me about anything?...I...I do not know if I am a good conversationalist, but I will...I will try I guess,” he added, before he bit into a pastry. Sweet, light, and fluffy, just like his dream.

[Imperialisium]

Alexei's Dream
Daytime

Anna withdrew her arms from Alexei's waste as he continued his work. Instead picking up her hot cocoa and taking several sips as she wandered about the apartment. Looking at everything and anything but not prying. She did not open drawers or go through his things. Not that she really needed too. When she had entered his mind the first time back in her own residence, the night she formed the blood bonds, she absorbed many details about his life. She knew about Veronica, and had an inkling that Silvanus was up to more than his antics in regards to the former Inquisitor. Then of course their was Mikhailov, which, she would love to perform experiments on. See what makes him tick and what mysteries are rattling around that cranium of his.

But of course were was Mikhailov in this dream? Truth be told when Anna entered Alexei's dream she was careful to pack up the Mage and shuffle him far enough away in the dreamscape to not bother them.

The smell of pastries wafted to her nostrils. She sniffed the air in anticipation. While listening to every word that Alexei spoke. He was undoubtedly nervous. Be it cruel of her to test his emotions so? Perhaps. But was it intently cruel; no. Was she capable of such cruelty if she so desired it. Undoubtedly.

Turning around, her feet softly padding on the carpet of the apartment, she walked over and took a seat at the small table. At last to the heart of the matter. Alexei had guessed that this metaphorical visit was not without purpose.

Anna brought up the pastry to her mouth and took a bite. A bit of it crumpled under her soft lips and she let out a soft squeal and cupped her free hand to catch the crumbs. Her smile was genuine and she beamed at Alexei with a soft rose texture in her cheeks. She took bites of the other food and her first words were more musings than anything else.

"Long have I only been able to taste food and drink in my dreams. The downside to immortality I suppose." said Anna as she took a bite of sausage. Washing it down with coffee. Lifting up a napkin she dabbed it lightly on her lips.

"Tell me Alexei. What do you wish for most? What do you value?" she stirred her coffee a little with her spoon as she spoke. She indeed wanted to talk and did not shirk from asking very direct, weighted, hard questions right from the starting gate.

[Luminesa]

Alexei's Dream
Daytime

Anna withdrew her arms from Alexei's waste as he continued his work. Instead picking up her hot cocoa and taking several sips as she wandered about the apartment. Looking at everything and anything but not prying. She did not open drawers or go through his things. Not that she really needed too. When she had entered his mind the first time back in her own residence, the night she formed the blood bonds, she absorbed many details about his life. She knew about Veronica, and had an inkling that Silvanus was up to more than his antics in regards to the former Inquisitor. Then of course their was Mikhailov, which, she would love to perform experiments on. See what makes him tick and what mysteries are rattling around that cranium of his.

But of course were was Mikhailov in this dream? Truth be told when Anna entered Alexei's dream she was careful to pack up the Mage and shuffle him far enough away in the dreamscape to not bother them.

The smell of pastries wafted to her nostrils. She sniffed the air in anticipation. While listening to every word that Alexei spoke. He was undoubtedly nervous. Be it cruel of her to test his emotions so? Perhaps. But was it intently cruel; no. Was she capable of such cruelty if she so desired it. Undoubtedly.

Turning around, her feet softly padding on the carpet of the apartment, she walked over and took a seat at the small table. At last to the heart of the matter. Alexei had guessed that this metaphorical visit was not without purpose.

Anna brought up the pastry to her mouth and took a bite. A bit of it crumpled under her soft lips and she let out a soft squeal and cupped her free hand to catch the crumbs. Her smile was genuine and she beamed at Alexei with a soft rose texture in her cheeks. She took bites of the other food and her first words were more musings than anything else.

"Long have I only been able to taste food and drink in my dreams. The downside to immortality I suppose." said Anna as she took a bite of sausage. Washing it down with coffee. Lifting up a napkin she dabbed it lightly on her lips.

"Tell me Alexei. What do you wish for most? What do you value?" she stirred her coffee a little with her spoon as she spoke. She indeed wanted to talk and did not shirk from asking very direct, weighted, hard questions right from the starting gate.

Alexei took a sip of coffee, and from behind his coffee cup he smiled at her squeal. Her radiant smile warmed him as much as the coffee, and he giggled as his eyes met hers. “...I am glad that you are able to experience something so enjoyable in this dream, then...Humanity takes much for granted, things such as having a meal with someone they love...” He paused for a moment as the words came from his lips. He admitted then to Anna that he was in love with her. He blushed, and took a bite of his sausage.

Then Anna began the conversation with a piercing question. The dream remained soft and peaceful, the mood still changed somewhat. He had anticipated that she would ask him a difficult question. Anna was not one for casual, meaningless visits and actions. Even as she enjoyed the mundane ceremony of eating breakfast, she did indeed wish to have a conversation about something important. After he finished chewing his sausage, he wiped his mouth with a napkin and looked directly at her. His expression was calm, and thoughtful.

“...What...do I value...hmmm...” He decided to answer her second question first, as he figured it would be easier. “...I am sure that you guessed, based on my having been an Inquisitor...that I do value my Faith...You probably feel...a certain way toward such, but...that is to the core of who I am...My family as well...well...my mother, anyway. My father is dead, as you saw in my memories. My mother is...all I have...Most of my family does not associate with us often...” A wistful look passed through his eyes, and he took a sip of his coffee. “...But I still love them, of course...I value peace...and compassion...It has always been important to me to keep my soul from fear, and to...to smile even when I am terrified...” He giggled, and his blush became a little brighter.

The question was not as easy as he thought it would be. An introvert at heart, describing his feelings and values to others was not always an easy task. He took a deep breath. “...History, I suppose...if that is something to ‘value’. We...we mortals anyway...are a small part of the moving wheel of the world. We often fight amongst ourselves over subjects that shall not matter in hundreds of years...We remain unaware of the powers in our lives that move us, that shake us to our core...As such we...fear things which should not be feared, because we do not examine them as we should. Love...happiness...peace...even death...I learned very early...not to fear death...” he explained.

Now he tried to tackle her other question. He ate some of his eggs, and pondered for a moment. “...As for...what I wish for...” He put his fork by his lips, and sat in silence. She had seen his memories, and he guessed that she probably had some idea about his wishes. “...I suppose all people wish for love in some capacity...so to simply say ‘love’ would not indicate what exactly I want...I am conflicted. For many years I wished to be a priest...or a religious brother. The love of a community, of people who are united in togetherness and worship...was one of the reasons I remained an Inquisitor...but I must confess...as young as I was, I...never felt the sense of community I desired. I did what I did because I felt it was my purpose...but I struggled...I struggled to reach to anyone. Sometimes I wonder if I am simply afraid of people.”

He leaned a little over the table, signaling that he wished to continue. “...At the same time, I often feel...detached from society, detached from others...As though I could never share my life with them...When Veronica and I were in our relationship...I thought I really could share my life with her. I thought for the first time that...I was welcome in someone else’s life...outside of the lives of those in my family...In reality, she did not want me. She...well...she was thirsty for excitement, for the thrill of the hunt, for the thrill of lust and a dangerous relationship. And such an experience only solidified...how I felt.” Now he ducked his eyes. He wondered what she thought of him. He was so much younger than her, yet other Inquisitors had once said that he spoke like an old man. “...So I suppose...companionship, I guess, is the word...I would like to be able to...share my life and my love with...someone...” He ended on a whisper, feeling he had opened more about himself to her than he had to anyone. He felt exhausted, and he wiped sweat from his face with a clean napkin.

[Imperialisium]

Alexei's Dream
Daytime

Anna listened to his words in between eating. Swiftly devouring the eggs, sausage, pastries, and finishing her coffee while Alexei spoke. She set aside her fork, placing it upon her plate, signifying she was done. Not a morsel left upon her dish. She padded her lips once more with the napkin. "Faith and companionship. Two noble but often unrealized ventures. Many a man has stumbled and fallen in their Faith; Maxwell included. Many live lonely lives or unhappy with the partner they are with." She placed her napkin on her plate and leaned back in her chair. Did she just say Maxwell? What did she know about Maxwell? The Cenaculum or the Inquisition's presence in Los Angeles? That small name drop could yield so many unanswered questions.

At that she stood up and gave another of her wry smiles, "Come to me in two nights time. I have something to show you. Should you be able to handle the truth because it will be painful. But, for now, my dear you'll sleep the whole day away and we can't have that." Anna snapped her fingers and Alexei would awake in his apartment. Mikhailov still snoozing on the couch right where he left him. The dream was so real and like that it was gone as if it never where. But what had happened during that subconscious sojourn, was it real, did it actually transpire?

John
Daytime
John had left from his look out near the Purple Heart's night club when Slade had stumbled out bloody and bruised. He let Slade slink off into the night back to his shack in a run down part of Los Angeles. John meanwhile returned to Anna's Residence, the headquarters of the Camarilla in Los Angeles, and arrived to see the daytime servants busily preparing. The arsenal was being inventoried. Weapons and armaments loaded onto vans and other vehicles. Several of which were armored. Using the same material as SWAT vans. Passing a table in a gallery were a pair of ghouls stacked and numbered kevlar vests and other bits of ballistic armor. Slotting trauma plates and the like. Another room was full of ghouls and other human servants hauling all manner of melee weapons outside. Bayonets, combat knives, tomahawks, John was pretty sure he saw a single handed warhammer in the mix as he moved up the staircase to his room.

Closing the bedroom door behind him he sat down on the bed and sighed. Laying down on the bed he looked at his watch on his wrist. Unclasping it and placing it on his nightstand. He was certain to have another fitful dream. A dream of what he saw back in Arcadia. A dream of possibly what is to come.

[Luminesa]

“...Alexei. Alexei. Alexei!”

Mikhailov shook Alexei awake, not too long after Anna gave him the invitation to see her at her mansion. Mikhailov had not actually slept well that night, and had continually awakened to walk around the apartment. He had sensed a powerful force had entered the apartment, but he could not tell what he needed to fight. His gun was still loaded, now sitting on the coffee table, and he had drank at least three cups of Alexei’s coffee. Six, seven, eight, nine o’clock passed, and Mikhailov recalled that Alexei generally got up for class around eight. At around nine he decided to go into his room and to awaken him.

“Get up, you fool, you’re late for class!”

Alexei slowly sat upright, and he blinked. A rosy blush marked his face, and he smiled sleepily at Mikhailov as he woke-up. “...Good morning, Mikhailov. Did you sleep well?”

“Let’s just nod and say I did. I heard you muttering in your sleep about breakfast, companionship, and something about a ‘Veronica’. I didn’t think you were the type to have such dreams, myself,” he answered, giving a bit of a grin.

Alexei giggled in return, a reaction which surprised Mikhailov. He was not usually so cheery about being teased. Yet his eyes changed, as he remembered the last part of his dream. His smile became wistful, and he hugged his knees.

“...What’s with you?...”

“...Mikhailov...I think I’m in love with the Prince...”

The Mage stared at him, first with confusion and then with an annoyed glare. “...Are you serious?...”

He looked up at Mikhailov. “...I dated a vampire several years ago. This would not be the first time...” he whispered.

Mikhailov rolled his eyes. “...You’re under a blood-bond. Whatever feelings you have are being amplified by the fact that she has you in the palm of her hand.”

“...No...the dream...it was my own...Can I...can I explain?...”

The Mage decided to give him a chance, though he pulled Alexei up off the bed as he made-up his mind. “That’s perfectly fine, but since you’re skipping school, at least get up and make us breakfast, hm? If...you don’t mind. Though you may have to make another pot of coffee,” he suggested.

Alexei did not mind. Somehow the dream now was a reality, but instead of Anna being his guest he had the Mage. He was not as affectionate, but his eyes seemed to hold some genuine worry. Unlike Alexei, Mikhailov disliked Anna strongly and preferred to keep her as far away as possible. The fact that she could be a threat to his plans regarding Alexei did not make him feel better. As such, he decided to try and bond with Alexei. “...Would you like my help?...”

“...Can you cook?” Alexei inquired. He smirked mischievously when he saw that the Mage could not give an immediate answer. “...You can help me. Don’t worry. We’ll make something simple and I can teach you. What do you like to eat?...”

Mikhailov scratched the back of his head. He thought for a few moments, and after a few minutes both men agreed that they liked bliny, traditional Russian pancakes. Mikhailov also decided that Bloody Marys might help, as both of them had drunk a fair bit without any food. Alexei took his time teaching the Mage, speaking softly and patiently as he modeled how to cook a Russian pancake. Such a simple, mundane affair, but to Alexei, who rarely had genuine company over, and who had just dreamed of having breakfast with someone, this event meant plenty. “...Are you blushing?...”

“...My dream was...I was having breakfast with Anna...heh...and now I’m having breakfast with you...” he mumbled, as Mikhailov flipped a pancake.

“...You really don’t have many friends do you?...Hm.” Mikhailov did not wait for an answer. He stood in silence and continued to cook, while Alexei prepared Bloody Marys. He did not put vodka in them, as neither man liked vodka. The Mage appreciated this considerate move, and even gave him a grin as he finished cooking. “...I certainly can’t say you’re a bad host...Alexei?...”

Alexei was blushing furiously as he made the Bloody Marys, but he did not turn to let the Mage see. “...Oh...um...Thank you. I’m...not used to being a host. I hope you’re comfortable here.”

“Comfort is what it is. I want to hear about your dream. Tell me every detail, this is serious,” Mikhailov replied. He did notice the color on Alexei’s face as he turned around, and he shook his head. The harpy has a little mouse under her spell...Silvanus is not going to like this... he thought. He then sat down at the table with the pancakes and the Bloody Marys, and Alexei began to talk about his dream. He told Mikhailov every detail, everything he remembered saying, every image, sight, and sound. The smell of hot cocoa. The color of Anna’s lips. The way she had swayed with him as he had cooked. Mikhailov could see the longing in his eyes, but he did not interrupt him. He did sigh, however, when Alexei finished.

“...So then...this is not the blood bond?...Or it still could be in part...Some part of your mind I think used the blood-bond to pull her to you, and to enjoy some sort of fantasy with her. I would have to question the mental fortitude you used to create such a dream, but we can focus on that later. What’s this about a Maxwell?...”

Alexei’s face became pale again, and he ate one of the pancakes as he thought. “...He...He was one of my superiors...He is an old Inquisitor, a veteran. I respect him highly, even now...Part of me believes he did not...wish for me to undergo my trial, but...he could not save me, obviously.”

“If he has something to do with Anna...it’s possible he may not have wanted to save you actually,” Mikhailov suggested.

Alexei’s eyes widened. “...What do you mean?...” he inquired, anxious.

Mikhailov took a sip of his Bloody Mary. “...How well does he know you?...If I brought him here and interviewed him about you...would he be able to say anything about you?...”

“...Y-Yes...I was good at my work, I did everything he asked...I have served under him since I was fifteen...What are you suggesting?” he inquired, lowering his voice to a whisper.

Mikhailov finished his blins, and he nodded, as though he was affirming in his head what he was about to say. “...She wants you to know something that is obviously going to be difficult for you...and she wants you to come to the castle. Now, you must realize the kind of person Anna is. She runs a business. This city is her business. The Camarilla is her business. And because you are Silvanus’s ward, you are a part of her business. Nothing more, nothing less. What she wants you to know may benefit you, but it will benefit her no matter what. She may be trying to lure you into a trap. She may actually have some interest in you. I doubt it. However...I’m willing to help you out of this difficult situation.”

“...If the truth is difficult, I will face it. No matter what Maxwell may be, I cannot shirk from the truth...” Alexei answered solemnly.

“That’s fine. But...I can save you a trip to Anna’s. All you have to do is lay low for two days. You can go to class, or you can stay here and maybe rest. I’m surprised you didn’t rush to the bathroom to upchuck the alcohol you had last night. If I end-up a target for any reason, I can take the heat off of you...”

“...How? They believe you are my pet...”

“They believe that now. But what they don’t know is I am quite aware of how propaganda works. I was an employee of the USSR for a while, after all.” Mikhailov’s eyes twinkled dangerously, and he smirked at Alexei. “...If all goes wrong, I’ll probably have to save myself from being killed. If all goes right, however...you will have the truth you are looking for...and you will be able to see that truth on your own terms, in your own home. I’m not asking for you to trust me or to agree with my plan. But you will probably want to thank me later,” he answered.

Alexei did not know what was ticking in Mikhailov’s mind, but he nodded, somewhat distracted. He did want to see Anna again. He wanted to know if she truly loved him. He was puzzled as to why Mikhailov cared for him suddenly, as well. Yet he would now have to wait two days to receive the truth he wanted. Either way, anxiety began to eat at him, and a shadow of loneliness trailed behind that anxiety. If Anna’s affection really was only a dream, then he would have to face that he really did have nothing from the start. That possibility was much harder than any truth regarding Maxwell.

...All I want to know is whether or not...I am worthy of love...Anna...did you really want someone to love?...I...I want to know...

“...By the way.”

“Hm?...” Alexei raised his head to look at Mikhailov.

Mikhailov leaned across the table, elbows on the tablecloth as he spoke with earnest. “...From now on, I want you to call me Kostya.”

“...Huh?...”

“My first name is Konstantin. Since we’re friends now, I suppose...if you wish to have me as a friend, anyway...I’ll allow you to call me that...” Of course, Mikhailov himself had flashed back to his own dream about meeting Alexei at the bus station. The dream still mystified him, and he wondered if he could bring his own dream to life. “...But nobody else! Well...except for Silvanus and Michael. Understood?”

Alexei paused, and then gave him a hopeful smile. He reached across the table, and took Mikhailov’s hand. “...Of course I’ll be your friend. Neither of us has many friends, yes?...It would be good for us...to stick together,” he answered sweetly.

“...I agree.” Mikhailov squeezed his hand. The Mage could not believe his luck. Alexei truly was desperate for company, he seemed. ...Heh. No wonder Anna came for you...You’re so welcoming, even to the people who are the worst for you...

[Luminesa]

Mikhailov - 10 AM

Mikhailov left some time later, plotting his operation in his head as he put on his jacket. He would have to head back to the funeral home to get a different one, as he could not afford for the illusion to break, and for him to be seen with blood on his clothes. Thus he moved to an alleyway, and then teleported to the funeral home. When he arrived, he acted quickly. He took a shower, threw the bloody clothes in a hamper to wash later, and he dug-out some old files to read while he sat in a bathrobe.

He had no prior information on Maxwell, and he wondered why he had never keptuch information on the Inquisition. Now that this man was a cog in the machine, he needed more information. He would not be able to get it by conventional means either. Fortunately, he had brought with him an item he had kept hidden in his personal light “dimension”. Pulling-out the Inquisitor’s robes, he smirked at his forward-thinking. He had another idea as well, but one that would be more complicated. Every plan needs a Plan B and a Plan C, after all... he thought. Though the execution would have to be perfect for his plans to work. His spine tingled with excitement. Silvanus would be impressed by his trickery, and Alexei would depend more on him.

As soon as he got dressed, he decided to play with his appearance. He cut his hair and straightened it, removing the possibility that he might be the Mage Arquart saw the night before. He changed his eye-color by using contacts-violet ones specifically. He needed a name, however, and he needed to hide his accent. He tried speaking in the mirror, and decided on a Southern accent. “I’ll have to make my Magic look like True Faith...Though who knows...maybe I did have True Faith once...” With his first plan decided, he headed-out.

Saint Vincent Catholic Church - 10:30 AM

When Mikhailov stepped into the church, he was not Konstantin Mikhailov. He was Aaron Willowsby, an Inquisitor from South Carolina who had been an unlikely prospect as an Inquisitor. In this role he would have to do grunt-work, but as long as he kept the appearance and did not reveal his aura he would be fine. Moving into the church, he went to one of the pews and began to feign praying. Really, of course, he was waiting to go meet fellow Inquisitors for any jobs they may need done.

[Imperialisium]

Saint Vincent's Catholic Church
Above the Inquisitorial Cenaculum

Mikhailov had just missed morning Mass and the sermons therein. The Church as such was practically empty when he arrived and sat silently at one of the pews. Hands clasped as if in prayer. Of course this was Konstantin Mikhailov the fake Inquisitor. Otherwise known under his fake Inquisitorial alias of Aaron Willowsby of Southern Carolina. The bishop, Amellio Verio, the aged man was conversing with a church guest in an annex of the house of worship. Talking for several moments about church affairs and the nature of the morning sermon. Apparently not noticing Mikhailov a.k.a Aaron sitting at the pews. When the member of the Bishops flock left the church with a parting handshake the old Bishop walked the pews.

"Not an early bird are you." said the Bishop to Mikhailov. Evidently the Bishop did not recognize Mikhailov a.k.a Aaron as he walked up with a smile on his wrinkled face. As for the Society of Leopold none of their members could be readily seen. They were either apparently in the Cenaculum below the Church or else ware.

[Luminesa]

Saint Vincent's Catholic Church
Above the Inquisitorial Cenaculum

Mikhailov had just missed morning Mass and the sermons therein. The Church as such was practically empty when he arrived and sat silently at one of the pews. Hands clasped as if in prayer. Of course this was Konstantin Mikhailov the fake Inquisitor. Otherwise known under his fake Inquisitorial alias of Aaron Willowsby of Southern Carolina. The bishop, Amellio Verio, the aged man was conversing with a church guest in an annex of the house of worship. Talking for several moments about church affairs and the nature of the morning sermon. Apparently not noticing Mikhailov a.k.a Aaron sitting at the pews. When the member of the Bishops flock left the church with a parting handshake the old Bishop walked the pews.

"Not an early bird are you." said the Bishop to Mikhailov. Evidently the Bishop did not recognize Mikhailov a.k.a Aaron as he walked up with a smile on his wrinkled face. As for the Society of Leopold none of their members could be readily seen. They were either apparently in the Cenaculum below the Church or else ware.

"Aaron" stood up and grinned at the bishop, his eyes twinkling cheerily. Mikhailov was impressed with his own skill in his disguise. The bishop did not recognize him at all, and he had only seen him the night before. "No sir, I was out a li'l late last night, and well...Drank a li'l too much, had some trouble getting out of bed. Imma try and go to Mass later elsewhere, though, maybe in the evenin'. I'm not real familiar with this area anyway, I was recently transferred from the East Coast, but Imma try and come to Mass more often," he answered. His Southern accent rolled off his tongue easily, as his original Russian accent was close enough that the change was natural for him. He spoke in a deep, gentlemanly voice, and winked as he talked about drinking.

Glad that his disguise was working, he decided to go find some work to do, as he did not see any Inquisitors in the area. "Now I dunno if you're the person to ask about this, sir, but...would you happen to know where the Inquisitors are at this morning? I came to get some work done, and I dunno if everybody left without me!" He chuckled, and looked around the large church. "I hope I'm not imposing any, sir, if you don't have the answer then Imma maybe ask around somewhere else. But I'd be thankful for any help you can offer me," he inquired, lowering his voice as he spoke.