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Post by Storyteller on Jun 18, 2006 10:39:09 GMT
Back at your apartment, you finally relax, and start to clean yourself up a bit. Luckily, you didn't sustain any real damage in the fight, so your clothes, while dirty, and smelly, from the sewers, are not damaged.
The sun will be coming up in a few hours, and your mind is buzzing with questions. Mike left with the woman, and you still don't know what her information is, and where she comes into all this anyway. Mike promised to meet you tomorrow night to explain more of what was going on. He mentioned in passing that you should invite your friends along, as they've earned a part in this. He'll ring you tomorrow night to fix a place and time.
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Post by Treyvon Johnson on Jun 18, 2006 20:26:51 GMT
I sit Indian-style on the floor next to my bed as I allow my freshly bathed and calmed self to unwind. Wic and Jessica had taken a chance to help me. Were the risks really worth it or was there something else? They aren't my type of people, yet it was easy for me to join up with them.
"What is their purpose, God?"
I stretch out a bit as I think about my premonition. I shouldn't have hesitated. Those few minutes could have made the difference. It's in my blood. It's been there since before my Embrace and I think that's where the hesitation came from. Still, I have other reasons to not trust what I saw.
I look at the time and see I still have a few hours before sunrise. I begin to study my texts, memorizing the components of the rituals. I think I have everything prepared, I just need that final revelation to bring it all home.
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Post by Storyteller on Jun 21, 2006 17:25:39 GMT
1 Vitae spent, putting your pool at 6. 1 Willpower recovered.
You rise.
As always, you can't remember falling asleep. You go to the window, and look past the blackout blind, into the night, the streetlights casting their eerie half glow.
The phone rings. You pick it up, and you hear Mike's voice.
"Hey. You patched up?"
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Post by Treyvon Johnson on Jun 21, 2006 20:28:18 GMT
I place my sell in between the nape of my neck as I stretch a bit. It's not very necessary, but it makes me feel better.
"Yeah, I'm cool. I was thinking about hitting a club up to get something to eat but it can wait, unless you're expecting more visitors tonight?"
I open up my closet to figure out what to wear. Boxer's and a whitebeater won't do, even if it is the Big Easy.
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Post by Storyteller on Jun 21, 2006 21:50:50 GMT
"I know a nice little club downtown, we can meet there, kill two birds with one stone. Club Spiral." He gives the address. "Bring your friends, if you can convince them to come this time! I'm hardly expecting any trouble, least of all in a club. I'll be there in an hour, but you can show up whenever you're ready."
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Post by Smoothie on Jun 22, 2006 4:21:03 GMT
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Post by Treyvon Johnson on Jun 22, 2006 20:11:00 GMT
"Cool. See ya in a bit."
I hang up with Mike and take a shower, still not feeling clean from last night's little trip. When I get out of the bathroom I notice I have a text from Wic. I type in my response before getting dressed and then heading out.
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Post by Storyteller on Jun 22, 2006 20:37:11 GMT
The text was the quote  , no phone call! ;D
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Post by Treyvon Johnson on Jun 22, 2006 21:21:13 GMT
Lol, it's edited to Mike, who I meant.
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Post by Smoothie on Jun 23, 2006 4:25:54 GMT
Right. I see you there and let the others know. |
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Post by Storyteller on Jun 26, 2006 12:23:31 GMT
The night air hits your face as you step out. You wish it was as refreshing as it used to be. You decide to walk the first bit of the journey, finally hailing a cab when you lose interest in the sights the night has to offer.
You arrive outside the club, downtown, in an area not entirely familiar to you. Indeed, you've never been to this club before, though you're sure you've heard it mentioned somewhere.
The cab drives off into the night. A burly doorman, complete with suit, earpiece, all the gear, stands guard. As he sees you, he takes a piece of paper from his pocket, glances at it, and replaces it.
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Post by Treyvon Johnson on Jun 27, 2006 1:51:02 GMT
I make sure my gat is covered in Shadow before turning on my Mojo. I focus, pushing out with the message I'm here, I'm sexy, I'm smart and I'm important and pulling back like a net, drawing everyone's attention and affection towards me. At least, that's the idea. A push of blood and my body starts working again, blinking, more color on my cocoa frame. At least, that's the idea.
My locks are in a tight bun (held by a couple of natural twigs), a cream colored hat is tipped to the right and situated on my head. An expensive black graphic tee that fits just right is covered with a cream colored jacket. I tone my look down a bit with some expensive blue jeans and my pointy-toed brown shoes complete my hunter's gear. I walk, no, stroll up to the bouncer and move my lips just enough to look friendly as I give him the upward nod.
"Wassap man? This place sounds like it's poppin."
I move my head lightly to the music as I slowly make my way towards the entrance. I look good. Great even. My blood makes me look better. Hopefully this guy'll let me skip the cover. Hopefully this club is more my environment.
Blush of Life, Awe and Touch of Shadow activated.
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Post by Storyteller on Jun 30, 2006 16:32:51 GMT
The man tilts his head slightly, taking you in for a few seconds more than is comfortable.
"You Mr. Johnson?"
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Post by Treyvon Johnson on Jun 30, 2006 17:55:02 GMT
Oh good, I'm on the list. I smile inwardly at the man's reaction. At least I know my mojo's working...but dude needs to work on subtlety.
"That'd be me. I take it my boy's already inside?"
That should've been vague enough to get whatever point I needed across. Of course, considering I'm not very photogenic, I'll have to ask Mike about that.
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Post by Storyteller on Jul 1, 2006 23:16:37 GMT
"That's right. There's a meeting set up in the back room. The door's near the bar, on the left, they should let you right in."
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, no phone call! ;D