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#Post#: 954--------------------------------------------------
The Coterie - The Edition Hotel (pt 2)
By: BIGDoor82 Date: February 14, 2025, 2:20 pm
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## Sergine "Serge" Carlock / 2025-02-06 05:38:39 | 12231
Come see this little war of mine.
[Approved]
Camarilla Brujah
Dexterity 4 : Lightning Reflexes | Strength 4 : Viscous | New
Arrival | Rep
Clara was right, the daylight was fast approaching, and soon
each and every vampire in this space would have a hard time
resisting the pull of the curse, that draw to sleep, to fade
into the corpses they all should be. One of coterie offers the
use of her ghouls, Anastasia from the sounds of it, and Serge
acknowledges this with a slow nod. "That will make things
easier."
The Brujah turned, reaching for the dufflebag, but is brought
up short when M'Kayleigh Bancroft, she of light and vigour and
so much youth speaks. Serge swivels his body, bringing those
smoke grey eyes to bare upon the Ventrue. They were probably the
last remaining feature of finery in the Brujah's face, the eyes
cool clear, and deep. They seem to be tracking the conversation
while the rest of her face remains placid, devoid of reaction.
Finally, there is a tilt of her head as if she was considering
an answer before a slight smirk crossed her lips. "Gender mean's
little to me, I have been, am, and will be whatever I must to
prosecute the contract Clara has offered. No Gender is safe,
alive or dead."
She'd turn, returning her gaze to the contract holder and
listens, waiting for anything relevant as time was ticking down.
When nothing is forthcoming she looks Clara in the eye
specifically. "If you've no specific instructions, I'm going
to...set up." They'd move, grabbing the duffle and hefting it
casually. With long ground devouring strides he'd step over to
the ghoul and unceremoniously place the bag in his hands. It
suddenly became clear that duffle was infact, quite heavy.
"There is a winch system in this, set it up and secure it next
to a south facing window, then use the nailguns also in the bag
to secure those blinds in place. When that is done, position
yourself in an oblique angle from the elevator doors, unless you
want to be an easy target."
The brujah would return to the table then, considered the long
case for a second, but instead reached beneath their coat and
pulled a short black blade from beneath her coat, he'd turn
then, grey eyes meeting every person in the room as she spoke
aloud as their free hand slapped the top of one of the rolls.
"This is an area denial mat." A grin would rise upon their face
then, one that pulled at the scars fiercely. "Think of it like
glue traps used to kill pests in the most unpleasant way
possible...for pests of a more..human size. I will be placing
these at the entrance to the elevator, and key windows with
access or views from neighbouring buildings. Do not step on
them." She'd look to Clara then and offer. "I would warn anyone
not inside this space about this...quietly."
Sergine's speech was clipped, curt, professional. All of them
might pick up on it now, the faintest hint of an accent, one
that Serge had clearly worked to crush but not quite managed
yet.
At that the mercenary moved quickly about the space, heedless of
the others and did exactly as he said, mats were laid and cut, a
shiny inner plastic layer peeled away to reveal a matte black
surface that looked, upon close inspection, somewhat tacky in
texture. Then, using a staple gun they were secured to the
ground. Clearly the Brujah was unconcerned about potential
damages to the space. If they had the money to rent the space,
clearly they could afford to fix it.
That done the scarred creature would return to the table and
reach for the backpack and the long case, both slung over one
shoulder each. Then and only then would she look at Clara once
more.
"The safest place for you and your coterie to sleep would be the
walk in closet." There is some hesitation then as the brujah's
lips pursed for a second. "This is my tactical appraisal."
Clearly leaving it up to Clara and her cohort.
"I will situation myself in the ensuite bathroom."
----
## Anastasia Anderson / 2025-02-06 15:36:59 | 12242
Stacy
*Young hearts, out our minds
Runnin' 'til we outta time
Wild childs, lookin' good
Livin' hard just like we should*
-Kesha
[*Approved*]
Malkavian | Oracular Ability
Visual (Colorful Sparkles) and Auditory (Whispers)
Hallucinations
BP: 12/12, 1/turn | W: 4/4 | Humanity: 6
The Twins know their roles. Mitch is still down in the security
office, ready to warn his brother Alex if anyone comes looking.
Alex does exactly as Serge tells him, quickly, efficiently. A
take the gun Clara gives me and look it over, checking the
magazine, doing a press check. I have experience with this. I
don't often use a gun, but it's clear I'm not new at this
either.
“I'm Anastasia, I prefer Stacy, she/her are my pronouns.” I say,
right after MK gives her small intro to Serge. “In case Clara
hasn't told you, I'm a childe of Malkav.” I don't tell her
anyone else's Clan. That's not for me to do. For a childe of
Malkav, I'm pretty lucid for the moment. I don't know how much
longer I can hold it, and likely, once I'm asleep, I will refer
to my normal state.
I look at Clara, impressed, as Serge starts going around and
setting up. It seems my Toreador's taste in mercenaries is as
good a her taste in fashion. I am impressed with the Brujah.
Usually they're so...exhausting... All that passion always
seemed so wasted on trivialities to me, but..what do I know, I'm
a crazy lady who has semi-reliable visions of the future.
“The closet is fine. I've slept in worse.” When my sire was
still around... being with a beach bum...I've slept buried in
the sands of Clearwater beach, not fun. I double check my gun,
and head there. The sun will be up momentarily, and I don't want
to risk passing out right here.
----
## M'Kayleigh Bancroft / 2025-02-06 17:15:47 | 12248
"Don't talk like you don't want me,
Don't talk like I'm some zombie"
[Ventrue Neonate] [Fame:1] [Blush of Health]
"Cause I know you love this feeling - Say you're ready to go,
Say you're ready to go.
I know your body's screaming - Say you're ready to go, Say
you're ready to go."
[App:4 Exotic] [Cha:3] [Presence:3]
[WP: 5/5 - H:6 - BP: 8/10]
Tampa, FL
M'kayleigh just kinda blinks and watches the other Kindred and
their ghouled servants buzz around the penthouse with the
clickity clack of weapons being assembled, and checked,
ammunition added and rechecked, and whatever scopes lasers and
other accessories getting added fills the room. She nods to
Sergine, the Brujah's words carried the weight of someone who
had really been through it, and made it out stronger, but also
the slight smirk holding, in MK's eyes, the potential for
something after the contract was complete. She wasn't the best
Ventrue, but she was savvy enough to know at some point she
would have to make contacts and allies outside of her Coterie,
or at least interact with Kindred of different Clans. "OMG
Sergine, mind blown emoji. That's soooo intense" she looks back
to Clara, smiling in approval, not that it was really needed or
asked for. "I like them, nice work tonight" Clara was the one
she looked up to the most, Clara was out there getting shit done
tonight.
She leans back on the couch and stretches with a small yawn, she
wasn't bored as much as she was sleepy, and sometimes she did
weird shit like sighs, huffing, and well... breathing in
general. She sometimes blushed when she was embarrassed, or went
pale when she was very low on blood and the hunger gripped her.
Now though, her caramel skin was well fed and nearly radiating
with life, compared to her at her worst. She might not be super
interested in all the tactical stuff going on, but she was
thankful to be safe, well fed, and being looked after by people
she, for all intents and purposes... trusted with her unlife.
"Okay, got it, stay off the flypaper" she looks at Stacy, who's
now joining the clickity clack of readying weapons, her eyes
lighting up a little. "Wow, look at you, its giving Charlie's
Angels' she giggles, curling up on the couch as they continue to
discuss the situation.
MK had slept in worst conditions, at least in her mortal life.
She had slept in closets, the bathtub, a patio chair, and
numerous other precarious areas at various hotels, house
parties, and festival events. She hadn't been allergic to the
sun for very long compared to the other Vampires in the room,
and had always been very careful to make to a Haven, weather her
Sire's or later her own. "It's whatevs, closet's legit. It
doesn't give me the ick to pack in like sardines, so just
like... tell me when we gotta get in the closet" she giggles
again, this time about a bunch of sexually ambiguous Vampires...
in the 'closet'. She lounges on the couch with half lidded eyes,
intent to mostly listen to the rest of the group, or try and
play on her phone until she's told to get in the closet.
----
## Clara Groves / 2025-02-06 17:31:20 | 12249
*I want to watch you bleed
You're the crime but I'm the scene*
Toreador | Auspex 2 | Enchanting Voice
The Tampa Edition: Penthouse Suite
Clara had never called Anastasia 'Stacy', though that was more
out of a misguided sort of respect. At least she'd stopped
calling her *Miss* Anastasia, and had largely dropped that
honorific entirely soon after. Two more chambers are filled
during the preparations, leaving five in the can and the hammer
resting over an empty chamber. Especially important with a
cap-and-ball gun. "I really oughta get you to look over my place
too," she says to Sergine, slipping the revolver into her
waistband to free up her hands to help. Of course, beyond
ironwork she isn't very crafty, but she's smart enough to follow
instructions and her ghoul is blood-bound enough to do the same.
Sebastian nurses an energy drink throughout, having tossed the
beer after realizing he'd have to get up. Perhaps the brewskis
were wistful thinking.
"Yeah, good help for short notice," she agrees with MK, during a
moment of peace. The Ventrue isn't a big help but no one really
expects her to be and Clara doesn't seem resentful of it. It's
what she'd planned around, after all. Her coterie were useful in
other ways not directly related to physical security. She moves
the shotgun, still bent, breach open, to the closet, which is
roughly the size of the bedroom in fact. Then she tosses in the
pillows and comforter off the king-size, a little resentful that
she's not getting to make use of it but really what does it
matter when they're already dead?
Well, it matters because she's going to have bad dreams again.
She'd slept in caves for long enough.
She makes a nest for the three of them and places her revolver
beside it. Silver's about thirty bucks an ounce, and one ounce
makes just over two .44 balls so there's roughly seventy dollars
of ammo in that wheelgun and if by some chance Stacy's mystery
man turns out to be a werewolf out to gobble them up it'll be
the best seventy bucks she ever spent. The crossbow remains in
its case on the table outside, though. This close in, it won't
help much. Not in a damn closet. When Stacy joins her, she lays
down and pats the spot in front of her. Breathing forgotten for
the moment, she just kind of mouths something before planting
her head into the luxurious duckfeather pillow.
----
## Sergine "Serge" Carlock / 2025-02-06 18:23:52 | 12255
Come see this little war of mine.
[Approved]
Camarilla Brujah
Dexterity 4 : Lightning Reflexes | Strength 4 : Viscous | New
Arrival | Rep
Sergine does her thing, utilizing his skill set to prosecute the
contract that had been laid out to the best of their abilities.
Stacy offers an introductive, and Serge nods slowly to the name,
as if recording it. "Sergine Carlock, Brujah." It seemed only
right to offer it in response, after all this was Clara's
coterie mate. "Serge is also acceptable." This she offers as he
turns his gaze towards MK once more, that smirk returning as the
woman speaks, though it does not seem to be a look of derision
or condescension, simply amusement? Maybe? Hard to say with
features like theirs.
The offer of a further contract draws the brujah's attention
once more, and the brows of the scarred woman raise. "Let us
complete the existing contract first...shall we?" He suggests,
likely more because of the potential for death and dismemberment
that this particular contract currently involved. "But when it
is..." This is the affirmation, clearly not interested in losing
a potential job.
Serge shifts priorities now, moving the remaining bags of gear
through the closet, and into the ensuite bathroom. Here, upon
the toilet the long case is opened, two weapons are revealed
within, one a shotgun with a folding stock, while the other is
more compact, and a bit unusual to the eye. To those with any
knowledge of weapons, it is a P90, and it is this weapon the
Brujah extracts from the container, along with four long
magazines. They lay these out carefully upon the floor, moving
now to the backpack, from which they extract a ballistic vest,
which they don with ease and efficiency.
The final step in the mercenaries preparation brings the Brujah
back into the bedroom, those grey eyes briefly taking in the
nest that the trio were creating as he knelt down before the
door, with it closed, a device was slid beneath it, with a sharp
clack, two prongs of metal slide in opposite directions,
creating a door jam to keep the door closed. This done, Sergine
returned to her appointed space, briefly picking up one mag for
the submachine gun and smacking it into place before cocking the
priming arm. She snuggles this weapon in close, and positions
herself with her feet on one side of the room, which kept her
propped up against the opposite wall. The position was one of
readiness more than slumber, as if the second the Brujah
awoke...they would be ready to kill.
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