Cold Call

[Storyteller]

Refer to the "My Fellow Kindred" thread on the main RP board, for Vidal's speech.

You step out of the meeting, into the night, stuffing your hands into your pockets. You feel the cold air of the night, but, of course, it doesn't bother you. What does bother you is the cold feeling of having been with all those others, the other kindred, in the theatre.

A short cab ride later, dropping you a few blocks from your entrance, and you're back in your haven, at your computer. Sounds familiar.

About an hour later, the phone rings, snapping you awake instantly. It could be one of a very short list of people who have this number, but you doubt it's good news.

[Sapphicat]

Who the hell...?

Luke fumbles with the phone, cutting off the third ring when he picks up. By some small miracle he manages not to drop it before bringing it to his ear.

"Hello?"

[Storyteller]

Cornelius' voice lazily fills the phone.

"Topside, Dorgenois Street, two minutes."

The phone goes dead.

Dorgenois Street is the street where the office building above you is located, though coming up from the sewers in the middle of the street is far from advisable. You have a quiet exit, in an alley around the block from Dorgenois Street.

"What's Cornelius up to this time?"

[Sapphicat]

Luke wonders about that, or more appropriately worries about that, the whole walk topside. As if a nice, quiet evening at home was much to be hoped for anymore. With his hood up, casting half his face in shadow, and his hands in his pockets as always, he quickly makes his way to the appointed place.

[Storyteller]

You head topside, grabbing a few things you may need. A quick walk through the night, and you're standing on the sidewalk, wondering what exactly is meant to be happening.

You're there for about a minute when a black 4-door sedan pulls up. The back door on your side (left of the car) opens, and you're greeting, once again, by Cornelius' voice. You're not any happier to hear it.

"Get in"

[Sapphicat]

He bites back his questions, knowing damn well from past experience that there's no point trying before they're underway, if even then. He climbs into the car, also refraining from sighing.

[Storyteller]

The car moves off. Cornelius is filling the space of the car next to you. An unknown man is driving in the front. Cornelius is dressed in one of his custom designer suits.

"Kid, were you at the meeting? Ah, never mind that right now. Listen, i need some work done kid, something special. Some computer intel gathering, probably followed by a little surveillance. We all know how good you are at that."

[Sapphicat]

How is that special?

Luke shifts uncomfortably in his seat, but to put more distance between himself and Cornelius would require jumping out of the door. He settles for looking out the window at the streets that roll past.

"On who?" he asks.

[Storyteller]

"Well, we don't...exactly...have a name. He's from Romania, and he's probably operating here under a false name. That's your job. I want you to start by digging up everything you can find on him in America, and, most importantly, find out 'who' he is here. We're pretty sure he's here in New Orleans, if that helps narrow it down. For now, that'll be all, but they'll be more to come."

He hands you a brown manilla folder.

"That should get you started."

[Sapphicat]

He cracks open the folder at looks through the contents, trying to guage the work ahead of him from whatever's provided.

"I'll do my best."

Like there's any choice.

[Storyteller]

"This may pay off for you kid. If it goes right, of course."

The car pulls up.

"I'll be in touch. Have a nice walk."

[Sapphicat]

"Thanks."

He closes the folder and slips it under his hoodie before stepping out of the car. As many sizes too big as it is- as it's become- he has to fold his arms over his chest to keep it from slipping. At least that makes him look appropriately cold as he walks back home, where the computer is waiting, where the video feeds of all those unsuspecting people are waiting. What's one more?

[Storyteller]

After walking the few blocks back to your haven; you're pretty sure that Cornelius dropped you this far out deliberately; you sit back down at your computer, and open the file.

There is a picture of the target, an old black and white job, probably from a polaroid, and a name "Nicholai Rescu". Not much to go on, but it's a start.

[Sapphicat]

Luke lays the picture beside his keyboard as though for inspiration. He pops his knuckles and once again can't help but notice how tightly the flesh clings to their bone. He squeezes his closed fist, the slight pain helping to banish the thought of what he looks like these nights.

Focus. Don't screw this up.

He starts with the most basic of net searches and works his way up from there, up to the difficult stuff that requires forcing his way in and staying on guard as long as he is. He can only hope the trail leads to something like that.

[Storyteller]

Computer check

It's two hours before you hit upon anything solid. A few passing references, linking Nicholai, and the Romanian Communist movement, who held power in the 80s, though apparently he's obscure enough that there are few further references to him, none of any use.

If he is operating under a false name, then until you find a link between it and his real identity, finding thing's are going to be difficult.

You decide to press on with your search.

4 hours later, with you on the verge of giving up, you find something else. An obscure air freight company lists a shipment, within the last few months, coming into New Orleans from the right area of Romania (none of this on the public website, of course). The names attached to the report, normally, would mean nothing to you, but you've encountered them earlier in your investigation, with solid 'business' links to Rescu. There's no details of who recieved the shipment however, but you do have the address of the shipping company.