Down at the Docks

[Storyteller]

You stand on the quey, and look out at the sea. That's where it all started here, or at least, what matters. The moon casts a pale reflection on the slowly rippling water.

You turn back, towards the warehouse docks. You see the light from his cigarette in the shadows of one of the buildings. You check yourself, and get ready to move in.

You've been working on and off for various criminals in the city so far, just tempory, to make ends meet, and this guys now on your list. You don't know what he did, but he certainly pissed someone off.

Someone powerful.
Someone important.
Someone with money. And ultimately, that's what matters to you.

It's time to take care of him.

Handy though. Being this close to the sea. Makes disposal almost too easy...

[Smoothie]

Victor approaches him in the open, walking slowly and directly toward him. Watching him, looking into him.

This, not spoken in the mind, but ingrained, just using a flicker of time in the consous mind: The first part of the trick is to be supremely confident, and read them to see how near you can come to the line that leads to foolishness. The second part of the trick is to walk that line, because on that line you become fear. It worked as a mortal, showing them that no matter how far they were willing to go, I was willing to go farther. Now with the tricks of the blood... Well, I'll admit, I've overdone it: no one likes feeding off someone who's just shit himself, or who dies of a heart attack before you can even sink your teeth in. But when done right, oh... there's nothing like the sanguine flavor of fear.

Oh, but back to work, let's see what makes this guy tick.

He slows as he draws closer, watching him with a look of amused curiosity but not yet speaking.

[Storyteller]

The red light in the shadows, the cigarrette, is lowered, and then flicked to the floor.

The voice, fairly grating, deep, but still somewhat fearful, you think.

"What the fuck do you want asshole?"

[Smoothie]

The act begins.

If Victor's soul was one of light, he'd be shining that light down, all around right now. However, it'd be much closer to the truth to say his soul is dark as what lies beyond the Pale. He focuses, lowering his chin a bit, exposing this invisible yet tangable darkness, wallowing in it, allowing it to work its dark magic on all living things nearby, but most importantly, upon this poor fool that is already dead and just doesn't know it yet.

Right about the time this invisible shadow envelopes the mark, Victor looks up to the rooftop to his right with a cold grin and a slight nod, then up to the left, nodding again, as if to hidden snipers.

He speaks slowly, his thick accent husky but resonant in the night air. "We are the assholes that come when you've pissed off the wrong people." He rolls his shoulders back, rolls his head to the right then the left, cracking his neck then runs his tongue across his teeth, his cold eyes boring into the man. "Tell me, truthfully, did you think there would be no judgemnt upon you? No moment, such as this, of reckoning? Was it worth it?"

Still, perhaps, 15 feet away, his hands hanging by thumbs from his jacket pockets, exotic punch daggers gripped but hidden bethind his forarms, he continues to walk slowly toward the man.

[Storyteller]

There's not much light, but you catch a glimpse of his face by the moonlight. First, it's shocked, actually scared, but he recovers quickly.

"Is that so asshole? Spare me the sermon."

Wits+Composure=2 successes

You catch a glint of something in the light. Metal. Looks like he's going for his cannon in his jacket. You can't tell if he's got it in his hand yet.

"More to the point, asshole, what the fuck are you going to do?"

[Smoothie]

Unearthly laughter errupts from Victor's lips.

[Nightmares 2: Dread]

"Such foolish escelations will only make things worse for yourself.

"Oh, keep it, if you like. Hold onto it, ...if it makes you feeeel better..."

His voice becomes deep and threatening. "But if you use that weapon, you will die this night, I assure you."

[Storyteller]

Dread: Man+Emp+Nig=2 successes (1 vitae spent)
Contested roll won

"Can you back that up?"

He's trying, you've got to give him that, but his voice betrays just too much fear for him to have a hope left. The glint of metal that you saw is now moving rapidly, around the same point; he must be shaking.

Good.

[Smoothie]

"Try me, if you wish. Your life means nothing to me. And for me, what difference does it make if I go to Hell tonight or a year from now? But, I would hear your story if you would tell it.

"We are like dogs to them, "he gestures again to the rooftops, insinuating that they are not alone, "loyal dogs, make no mistake, but they just loose us upon you without explanation. Our only instructions: To punish you.

"Now, we can kill you, but I take no pleasure in such things, after all, you'd be dead already if I wished it. So, I offer you a chance. Tell me the story in exchange for your life. Tell me the story and I'll keep the dogs at bay. I'll have to beat you a bit, you understand, one must keep up appearances, but I'm sure you can take it. You might even earn my respect.

The sinister edge in his voice becomes razor sharp, "So, shoot me, or start talking!"

[Storyteller]

You see the shine from the gun rise, and the moon no longer glints off it. He must be pointing the gun at you now.

Shit, this may have to get ugly.

After a minute though, you see the shine of the gun again, lowered.

His voice is still suffering from his fear, but he speaks with more resolve.

"Same old story really. Dozens of people must have been through this before. Start off working for the wrong people, reaping the right rewards, and plenty of them, and start getting cold feet."

"I wasn't stupid enough to hand in my notice, i knew where that would lead, but i decided to get out the city. The state even. Ripped off a bunch of money from them first, so i could get myself started. Thats probably what landed me in this shit, i may have got away otherwise."

"Anyway, i head to the airport to get my flight, and they get to me first. They got the money, and they almost got me, but i managed to escape. Knew they'd find me though."

"Now, i've told you my story, so let's get this over with. I'm not sure i believe you're just going to let me go though. Maybe today, maybe they haven't even told you to kill me. But they'll be back for me. I know it."

[Smoothie]

"Yes, enought of the small talk. I wanted more details, but if that is all you have..." Wic walks toward him.

[Storyteller]

"I shoulda known. Death comes swiftly. Someday, it'll come for you too."

He lets you get a few steps closer before he raises the gun again, but you're ready to act before he can get a shot off.

You win initiative

[Smoothie]

Victor springs into action, bringing a punch daggar to bare. In an effort to disarm, he strikes violently and with supernatural strength at the man's weapon arm.

Burns blood for strength, Goes for Broke, All-out Attack, Specific target

[This attack: Str2, Wpn+3, equipment mod (dagger)+1, specialized+1, blood strength+2, all out attack+2, specified target: arm-2 = 12 - (darkness mod + chump's defence)]

[Victor gives up his defence this turn but a successful attack should require his opponant to make a Strength + Athletics - my attack successes roll to avoid dropping his gun (WoD pg.165 specified targets).]

[Storyteller]

You lunge forward, stabbing and slashing into the guys arm.

Attack roll: Exceptional (5) successes

The guy cries out in pain, and his gun goes skittering across the pavement. He looks up at you, and tries to swing up his good arm, but is clumsy with his left hand, and swings wide.

Attack roll: failure

[Smoothie]

Victor holds him at bay with his knives while he places himself between him and the gun. He re-sheathes one knife picks up the gun. Gun(L) and knife(R) in hand, he directs the guy into the light.

"Out into the light." His voice is hot with disappointment.

If the guy doesn't stay back, he'll stick him in whatever part presents itself. If he runs, he'll run up behind him and kick him (hopefully) to the ground. If he goes for the gun, he'll kick it or throw it away (and into the light).

[Storyteller]

The man steps forward into the pale moonlight, the shadows on his drawn face exacurbated by it. He looks tired, and fearful, but faces you, just standing still, arms by sides, looking straight back into your eyes.