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Vampire: The Masquerade - Boston by Night

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Erinye

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It starts as it always does with coincidence.

Why they were there that evening, nobody could say, but fate or perhaps some other much more real force would see their paths entwined. Perhaps it was mere curiosity, or a wish to seek escape from the dreariness of their lives, if only for a single night.

It was a cold evening, a pouring rain making the streets of Boston almost desolate, except for a few brave souls. The bass and the electronic rhythm of dance music rumbled through the empty streets and alleys of the docks, where an old warehouse had temporarily been remade into a makeshift dance club. Although it had no official name, it had come to be known as The Emerald because of the faded green paint around the doorframe, etched with some weird hieroglyphics like symbols, or perhaps it was for some other reason, nobody was really sure.

Surprisingly there was no waiting line, and clearly the large brutish African looking man by the door had no clue about fire regulations, or maybe he simply did not care; either way the club was packed with some hundred people already, with more coming by the minute.

Once inside it became clear just how much effort had been put into transforming the place. While it was crude, the old warehouse was now sporting dazzling sound and lights systems, all controlled from a dj station. A rather simple bar offered shots, beer and cheap booze to anyone who could pay. Old and rusted stairwells lead to a platform of walkways above the lights, the only place to find peace from the intense strobing lights moving and blinking in tandem with the music.

“Hey man, just chill alright? It’s cool man! It’s cool!” The young blonde man raised his hands defensively for the doorman, who was looking mildly displeased. Whatever the problem was nobody had noticed, but it seemed the man was intent on causing a scene, to get noticed. “I’m not packing, alright?” He pushed his flowing black coat aside, to show that indeed he had no gun concealed by his waist. “Yes,” the large African simply said with a thick accent, something definitely not belonging to Boston, or even the Americas, finally letting the young man inside. He turned to wink and smile playfully to Mary before finally moving on inside to vanish in the crowd.
 
Mary

She was nervous - she would really have prefered to be back at the convent and sleeping at this time of night, it was not the first time she had that thought in the last few minutes - but the Father had been clear about her penance.

Thinking about to it she remembered confessing to him about her weaknesses and impure thoughts, expecting a set of prayers and some acts of contrition a recommitment to charity work and perhaps a reduction in meals - instead he had skipped some of those but insisted that she also attend a den of sin such as this so that she could see first hand the people that they were trying to save and how important it was to understand how they could fall to that life.

She had wanted to argue that she knew it well - her parents had fallen to it and she almost did, but that was not how confession worked ... and he was right she might have been distant from those she should be helping.

Still she was miserable enough about the whole thing as she made her way to the door and the large man and smaller man argueing - resolved as she got there with the smaller man winking at her as it was. She wondered about that - she was not dressed for a night out, wearing a light blue jumper which hid her shape as it was perhaps a bit too big for her, and comfortable pants with sensible shoes finished off with a hat to hide her eyes from glare and her head from any rain.
Still she did know her appearance was striking which was part of the reason she hid it andd some still recognised her from her childhood career also, hopefully the man would forget her once inside.

Once inside she considered ordering a water but facing the crowd she choose not too and instead moved to the platforms to escape the lights while allowing her to view the crowd and hopefully learn how to help some people - with luck in the crowd no one would notice she was not drinking.
 
It had amounted to research. That's what he hold himself as he walked up to the address he'd been given. It may look like a dive, but that's exactly the kind of authentic, gritty feel that is lost in so much of modern literature. Great deeds consist in doing what deserves to be read, and writing what deserves to be written he reminded himself.

He hadn't chosen particular to dress in a certain style, but it seemed that black and brooding was the new ... er ... black. And a sharp black suit always looked good on him. He watched the young man - too brash and loud and sure of himself. He would feature in the book. An object lesson, perhaps, on why salmon do not play at being sharks. He still wasn't used to the idea of a gun-check at a club, and so assumed that large African gentleman was after a tip. He fumbled in his jacket to produce a small denomination note absentmindedly whilst peering into the Emerald, his foot already tapping to the beat.

"Excusez-moi, my friend. I had not meant to offend" he said when the error of his ways was pointed out. He obliged by unbuttoning his jacket to reveal that he wasn't carrying a gun. "I never understood why someone would want to bring a gun to a place such as this" he said with an elegant Gallic shrug.

Once inside, he'd head for the bar. Better to blend in and have -something- in his hand. But the beer here? Well, like sex in a canoe. Fucking close to water. And he'd have to get a receipt for it.
 
The bartender quickly uncapped a bottle and slid it across the improvised counter to the sharp looking frenchman, but waved a hand dismissively when he wanted to pay, already turning to service another customer; pouring up shots of something not entirely identifiable. The bottle contained some kind of beer, certainly, some brand nobody recognized, weak as suspected in both taste and punch, but pleasantly cooled, it served well for something to hold. What could possibly bring a place like that to give out free alcohol? It was a conundrum to say the least. Other guests were equally surprised, staring in mild confusion as the bartender again and again turned down their money. She was like the doorman African, with a soft chocolate mocca skin tone, bordering on golden, the dark hair on her right side set in complex cornrow pattern, the rest falling loosely over her shoulder, with a nose ring and a minature dreamcatcher with attached black feathers hanging from her one exposed ear, and a weird tattoo on her neck, resembling a merge of a stylized sun and a lions face. Most surprisingly was her clear emerald green eyes, contrasting greatly with her skintone, most likely contacts, but they certainly drew attention. She was captivating, fierce and almost primal, but stunning at the same time, wearing simple jeans and a black tanktop. Her name was Maya.

A few moments later she came back to him as he continued to hang out at the bar, free between orders. "You... look like you dont belong here," she said plainly, raising an eyebrow as she waited for whatever excuse he could cook up. She leaned across the bar so that she did not have to shout as much, lowering the chance someone would overhear them, "yeah, look, I don't care what you are doing here, but you ought to leave, like right now, or it will hook you in like all the others." She glanced over her shoulder as another bartender stepped behind her, immediately breaking off the conversation, as though she might get in trouble if she was caught. 'Get out' she mouthed at him as she poured up more shots.

From the corner of his eye he noticed the other bartender discreetly handing over a small plastic pouch to a guest, which he recognized as a drug sample; an emerald green crystal powder, and suddenly it dawned on him why the place was named as it was. The door, the woman, the powder, all connected by a shared fondness of colour. The already influenced woman palmed the pouch not so discreetly, slipping a hundred dollar bill across the counter even less discreetly, to the clear annoyance of the dealer playing bartender. Maya had overseen the exchange as well, glancing to him and shaking her head lightly, once more mouthing 'get out'.

Mary sought shelter from the deafening beat of the electronica on the catwalks. She was alone up there, everyone else seeking to be in the middle of it rather than on the outskirts. She was alone, except for him, the man who had winked at her outside, he was standing on the catwalks on the opposite side, carefully searching the crowd below, not paying her any attention at all. It was not until a few moments later she realized that he was indeed holding a pistol in his right hand, keeping it pressed against his thigh in an attempt to conceal it. How he had managed to sneak it past the guard was a mystery though.
 
Mary

She looked out over the crowd nervously unsure how long she should stay when she noted the man from the entrance scanning the crowd - and that he had a gun.

How to handle this went through her head - cowardise encouraged her to merely leave but she supressed that quickly, trying to talk to the man and encourage him to abandon whatever plans he had was next - but while tempting she was not trained in such situations and might only make it worse for everyone. No this was a matter for the police and the bouncers, taking her smart phone out she angled it to capture the man with the gun while looking like she was merely texting - and than moved to the bouncer at the entrance. If the gun was legally carried she didn't want to make a scene so better to leave it to people trained.

Approaching the large man at the entrance where if needed she could leave and call the police in quite she tapped him on the shoulder and stepped close with the phone to avoid causing a panic for any other overheading "sir, sorry for intruding but there is an armed man on the balcony" she showed the picture "should I call the police - he seems to be scanning the crowd?".
 
The throb and pulse of the crowd was curious - a dynamic he was unfamiliar with. A pretty face he thought he remembered from... a movie perhaps? No. What would someone rich and famous be doing in a place such as this?

The beer was at least cold as he sipped it. Not great, but it was to be expected. There were certain things that this country did well but mass-produced beer was not one of them. Even the Belgians had managed that.

He didn't even try to cook up an excuse - a bold truth was always better than a half-hearted lie. "To see what kind of thing happens here, in a place such as this."

He continued to watch the exchange curiously, but not too obviously. His curiosity was piqued. He knew the lion-and-sun as a symbol of Iran, but not like that. Why Once it was quieter again, he leaned forward to try and speak to her.

"What is it that they sell here?" he listed a few street-names of drugs he was familiar with from Paris - the words would sound utterly strange, alien and out of context. "It certainly isn't the beer"
 
The three hundred pound African man looked at Mary, a heavy frown evident on his face despite the dark sunglasses. "Show me," he demanded in his heavy and clumsy accent, waiting for her to lead the way. He was stinking of sweat, burdened with sweaty armpits by his weight, chronically out of breath, wheezing and gasping for air and reeking of cheap cigars. He had tattoos on his hands, which was usually a bad sign; letters on his fingers, three small black dots in a straight line on his right hand between the thumb and index finger, no doubt some kind of gang or prison code, and lastly a hissing snake circling around his left wrist, mouth and fangs dripping with venom. Just being near him was uncomfortable, and though he was wearing his dark sunglasses even at night, Mary could feel his intense staring; her beauty working against her as usual.

Maya shook her head as she turned to walk away, sighing to herself, "don't say I didn't warn you sweetie..." As he stood there wondering what was going on, he felt something brush against him as a small plastic bag was deposited in his jacket pocket, containing the same emerald green crystal powder he had seen just before; though it was not immediately clear what kind of drug it was, it had most definitely been spliced with some very peculiar ingredients.
 
Mary

She was nervous noticing the mans markings and being close to him his size - and she felt or at least imagined she felt his eyes on her inappropriately.

She chastised herself she was judging him without knowing him and tonight he was merely doing his job which she had brought to his attention, "of course sir, please follow me" she mentioned and moved to the entrance to the balcony but with enough people to prehaps hid them from being noted above "on the other balcony above was where I saw him ... you can see in the image he was concealing a weapon" she added politely with a smile "should I notify the police in case of trouble?, I don't want to get anyone in trouble if it is legally carried or worse cause a panic for no reason".
 
The heavyset bouncer raised an eyebrow as he glared at the small screen and snatched the device from her hand, trusting in his size to let the smaller woman have his way. But before he did, Mary managed to get a quick glance at the picture, and to her surprise the man seemed... different than the one she had seen and photographed, like a different person altogether. Had she made a mistake, perhaps angled the camera at the wrong person? Looking up at the balcony again, there was nobody to be seen, neither the man with the gun, or this second person. Yet, the bouncer seemed at least somewhat aggravated about the picture.

"I keep this," he said with a sinister grin, breathing a foul gust of air into her face, and poking her chest hard enough to push her a step back. "You, get lost." Chuckling to himself at that small act of bullying, he pocketed the smartphone and walked outside again, paying her no more attention.
 
Mary

She was shocked ... had she made a mistake? taken the wrong photo? yet the atmosphere and the search for guns get to her?

This distracted her as he snatched her phone from and and dismissed her. While Mary was not well trained in combat she had done some classes in defense and had a basic medical training ... the large man was wheezing and gasping for air from minor excursion. She knew instinctively that he was merely a large but untrained bully who relied on size to avoid challenge.

"Sir, that is mine - I will have it back please" her voice calm but without the deference that she previously showed now that he had shown himself to be an illegitimate authority figure. But still everyone had a better nature that they should be reminded of "your mother would not wish to read about you stealing woman's possessions in the paper, the insurance company would also have questions, the phone is worthless to you" she had installed some apps to ensure her privacy and security and the phone would already be locked within the conversation "the police would frown on it also, my congregation would also be shocked as would some papers - please do the right thing and return my property".

Those times spending learning about the law and how to use the devices that were so common these days were not wasted as some of the senior sisters had implied to her gently - the church needed to move with the times.

In truth she felt a bit bad about the hard sell -particularly given how a police force might react to a large black gang member with a stolen phone, but it was important he knew his actions had consequences and that he had to choose the right path - maybe that was the lesson she was her to teach?

She was normally excellent at reading people and so she hoped she had read him right in how he would not want the hassle and how maybe this would eventually encourage him to be better as a person.
 
"Wait," he said focefully, raising a finger at her asking her to be quiet. All her threats about the media, the police an even the church did not seem to get through to him, remaining calm if somewhat out of breath from that small activity. He was making a call on his own phone, keeping her at arms length and splaying his chubby fingers before her, making sure she could not retrieve the phone. It was obvious, while he may have been unfit, even at the risk of cardiac failure, he was heavy and strong enough that she would not be able to put a dent in him, she simply was not strong enough.

Pressing the phone close to his ear he began speaking in a unknown language, probably African by the sounds of it, but that was as close as she was able to get. Whoever he was talking to, he seemed to be showing them great respect, never raising his voice. After about a minute or two of talking he was done, turning to her and at last acknowledging her presence again. "Come with me, boss wants to talk to you."
 
Mary

Well at least it was progress, she folded her arms pointedly "and I am happy to speak to them - once my property is returned to me", she extended her hand politely to retrieve it "please".

Frankly she was tempted to leave now without the phone she had seen the trouble that the people here were in where even those in employed to keep the peace abused that power, her eyes scanning the room behind the man with a frown seeing other negative behavior of all kinds - perhaps some campaign against the place and some of her media contacts to highlight the plight of those within might do wonders for the community, it could likely make a nice soup kitchen and community center with the right backing.

But first she would give this man one more chance to do the right thing.
 
He wasn't exactly familiar with drug-dealing etiquette but he was reasonably sure that you normally paid for it. He was, however, not going to pull out the sachet in the middle of the club and examine it closer. So he left it there in his pocket, and went back to hugging the wall to observe. His European cool had been... ruffled a little by his experience but the book wouldn't write itself.
 
The giant African man simple chuckled at Mary, walking off towards a kind of alley in between cargo containers. A smooth black sedan was parked there, toned windows, engine running. He walked over the backseat window and handed off the phone to someone, a woman judging by the well manicured hand receiving the phone. Words were briefly exchanged, before the man bowed respectfully, opening the door and backing away to make room for his "boss".

It was indeed a woman, and she was gorgeous, a petite African woman dressed in a flawless business suit; a white silk shirt with a high collar, and long sleeves extending to cover her elegant hands, only show the very tips of her fingers, only buttoned halfway to show an impressive cleavage. Her skin was a magnificent golden bronze, and her dark hair was tied in a loose bun behind her head, showing off her smooth neck.

She smiled radiantly and stepped towards Mary, her heels clicking softly on the road. "Please accept my apology miss, I am truly sorry for my... assistants actions." She smiled and managed to sound quite sincere, handing the phone back to Mary. Standing so close to her, the woman's youth became apparent; she was barely an adult, most likely still a teenager, but she carried herself with the authority and power of someone with a lifetime of experience.

"But, I would like to discuss this person you saw in the club, the man on the walkway. Maybe I can offer you a ride home as recompense? It is really the least I can do."

The woman was perfectly polite, and there was something about her that put Mary at ease, despite the circumstances of their meeting. Gazing into her big brown eyes, there was a transfixing quality to them, and she found it was quite impossible to look away.

Inside the club the music suddenly stopped, leaving the guests standing awkwardly on the "dancefloor", looking around in confusion. The DJ himself grabbed a few essentials from his booth and bolted, and the bartending "staff" too seemed to quickly disappear as well, though they were in less of a hurry than the DJ. Soon the guests started mumbling to themselves, slowly realizing the music was not going to start back up; nobody knew what was going on.
 
Mary

As the man took her phone she paused - certainly not intending to follow him down an alley, but still wanting her property back.

This internal discussion was the only reason she was still standing there when the woman appeared - a few seconds longer and she would merely have left the place entirely and written the phone off as stolen.

At the woman's appearance she did a triple take, the first as surprise that the mans boss was a woman, the second that she was such an attractive and young woman, and the third with a mild blush and angry at herself for even that hint of an impure thought.

Taking her phone she offered a half smile "thank you", as the music died out she allowed herself some contentment that at least they were closing at a reasonable hour - and she could hear properly again and speak without shouting.

"I'm not sure I can help really - I thought I saw something but its not on the phone, I might have been confused with the flashing lights", looking around her "this is ... not really my kind of place ... anymore" her voice little above a whisper at the last word as she looked to the floor.

Looking back at the woman's eyes and taking in her elegant clothes she began to feel that her own choice to grossly dress down was in error ... she crushed that thought as it formed.

"I wouldn't want to put you out for no reason", getting a lift sounded good and she could perhaps speak about how to make the club more wholesome and achieve some real good ... and spending time with someone polite and pleasant was a bonus.
But it would be wrong to put the woman out on what seemed likely to be merely her overactive imagination.
 
Taking his cue from the stuff, he decided to head for the door. It had left him with far more questions than answers, and more blank incomprehension of the way of life of these Americans than questions. He rolled the oddly coloured powder sachet in his pocket between fingers before heading for the door. He hadn't learned anything for his new book, but the night had hardly been wasted. If anything, it would prompt further digging and questions. He wondered if any of the smart young University-types that frequented his cafe were chemists...
 
The woman came over to her, putting her arm around Mary's like they were old friends, smiling a genuine pleasant smile as their fingers entwined. This close it was impossible not to notice how divine the woman smelled; the scent of some outrageously expensive perfume clinging to her slender frame, her skin soft as the finest silk. "Miss Collins, please, it would be my honour to drive you wherever you wish, and then we can talk about this person you saw in the club."

Her ears twitched lightly, and her head turned, only seconds later did Mary notice the faint sound of sirens. "That was fast," she said, managing to sound surprised. "We called the police, just to be safe, you never know what kind of creeps lurk around, do you?" She tugged gently on Mary, making her follow towards the waiting car. While they had talked another young African woman had appeared, waiting patiently by the open door, one of the bartenders from the club, Maya.

The club patrons scattered when they heard the sirens outside. Seconds ago they had all been having fun, now it was every man for himself, as nobody wanted to get arrested. Suddenly the door was kicked in, five armed police officers pouring in, screaming and shouting, and pointing their weapons at anyone moving. Unrest escalated to a panic.
 
Mary

She was kindof enraptured by this woman and didn't move away from the physical contact - even though a small part of her noted that perhaps it was not seemly for a woman in her position, she shrugged it off as merely friendly contact, smiling at her as they walked to the car "it's Sister Collin's these days" her voice warm. She noted that she hadn't given her name "guess you remember me from my childhood days", there was a part of her that liked being recognised - but she knew that feeling pride in that was a sin to be avoided, "all behind me now".
Remembering the question about where she could go "I am staying at the ladys guild house currently, we might have tea inside to discuss?".

She smiled at the bartender and would have extended her hand except that her escort was holding it so she settled for a smile and a bob of her head as she entered the car "wait shouldn't we speak to the police? ...", her mouth went agape as she searched for the woman's name "oh lord forgive me" she muttered, "I am sorry my manners have been atrocious I never asked your name?".
 
The woman chuckled as she lead Mary to the black sedan, where Maya waited patiently. Neither women paid any attention to the sirens or the ruckus coming from the warehouse, as though it was of little consequence. "Oh, don't worry about it... Sister Collins, if anything its my manners that are lacking for not introducing myself, when I already know your name, is it not? You may call me Ineni." As they approached, Maya opened the door to the backseat, giving a courteous bow to them, or perhaps only to her employer? Ineni disregarded her and instead turned to Mary. "Please, after you Sister Collins, I will be with you shortly."

While Mary climbed into the car, if she was so inclined, Ineni and Maya exchanged words, once again in that same unknown African language, sounding perhaps a bit too primitive to be spoken in a modern city like Boston. While Mary did not understand a word that was spoken, it was clear that Maya was insecure, stumbling over the words a great deal, while Ineni was perfectly fluent. Whatever they spoke of remained a mystery.

"I do apologize about that; a little bit of business that had to be taken care of," she excused when she finally clambered into the car a few minutes later. Almost immediately the car set into motion, leaving Maya behind on the docks. Ineni crossed her legs, corrected her outfit and then turned to look at Mary, a pleasant smile on her lips as always, eyes beaming with warmth and joy, making it almost impossible not to feel relaxed in her company. "So, will you tell me about this man you saw?"



Back at the warehouse the police had quickly blocked off the only exit. There must have been about two dozen of them, some securing the area outside, while the rest raided the makeshift dance club, all of them armed and wearing bullet proof vests. They were quick and efficient, forcing anyone inside on their knees, hands behind their heads.

David Vallon had seen it all; only a few years away from retirement he had led a long and distinguished career with the Boston Police department. He was well respected, more experienced than anyone else on the force, and he was driven; this time it was personal, he would find his daughter and bring her home and God have mercy on anyone standing in his way. The warehouse was not much of a clue, but at the moment it was all he had to go on, and while he could not prove anything illegal was happening there, he had a strong suspicion it was connected to the cult that had his daughter. Calling in a few favours, making some phone calls, he had managed to get a search warrant for the warehouse, and not wanting anything to slip by him, he had brought as many men as he could. As the officers had taken control of the place, he walked in behind them, a serious frown on his face.

"I want this place searched from top to bottom, ALL OF IT!" He turned his attention to his prisoners. "And all of you motherfuckers are under arrest! Book'em, take them back to the precinct, I want them all interrogated! I want to know everything!" Within seconds Jean-Luc was being manhandled, lifted to a standing position, slammed against a bar counter and put in cuffs, then dragged out into a police cruiser, to be taken away.
 
Mary

Ineni she rolled the name in her mouth a bit getting a feel for it as she moved her lips slightly mutely noting how it would be said, as it was unfamiliar to her and she lacked the knowledge on languages to guess where it was initially from ... something for a search engine perhaps.

"Of course" she said as she entered and the woman began talking to her colleague.

She admired the confident let polite nature of the woman, someone clearly in charge but without the need to demand it verbally and loudly as many did, in some ways she reminded Mary of some of the older nuns with a lifetime experience to learn their place in gods plan and be certain of it - it was amazing to feel that same confidence from someone so young.

Meanwhile she was acting like a nervous child that had thought she saw something and taken a picture but either was imagining things or had failed to take a simple photo - she blushed slightly.

Calming herself she closed her eyes and remembered the night, before meeting the woman's eyes "well Ineni" the name rolled off her tongue with and she smiled slightly at seeming to pronounce it correctly by her own ears at least, "again I might have just been nervous or say a shape incorrectly - but maybe I just misused the phone so I will give you the full run down in case he is a problem", she was good with people when you worked a soup kitchen or other work with the homeless it sometimes made there day if you remembered them directly so she made an effort to connect with people at least that much.

"The man was young and had blonde hair, he entered the establishment just before myself and was causing a scene with your bouncer" her lip quirked disapprovingly at the memory of the bouncers treatment of her, composing herself "he had a flowing black coat which at the door he pushed aside to show he did not have a gun. Once that was confirmed he did turn and smile at me with a wink" considering "if you have a door camera that should all be clearly shown - I hope" there was a part of her that was shaken about her faulty mind or camera work earlier and it made her question things a bit, "than he vanished into the crowd".

Pausing for a breath, "I than moved to one of the platforms overlooking the crown" she gave the directions she had used including the entrance and where her table was "I than saw him again standing on one of the walks opposite me, seemingly scanning the crowd - and not noting myself she did worry what he would have done if he had seen her, "it took me a while but I noted that in his right hand he held a pistol pressed against his thigh to conceal it" she finished.

"Another features was his manner of speech - it was peppered with repetition and an attempted but failed manner of putting people at ease" putting on a similar accent - not her core talent but she had learned when acting how to say a few words with one, "man, chill! It’s cool man, It’s cool” switching pack to her natural manner of speaking "sorry it has been a few years so likely didn't sound right at all - but hope you get me meaning on not putting people at ease".

"To speculate from what I have seen of people on drugs I think he might have been high - not very but enough to be nervous, likely not used to drugs and likely not a regular at the bar. Possible just a boy that went somewhere ... if you will pardon me saying so ... rougher than he might have been used to, high and with a parents gun for courage" catching herself "for what my speculation is worth, and assuming it was not just me seeing things".

She paused for another breath to catch her thoughts "that is about all I know" she was going to stop there but something about how the woman made her feel relaxed made her want to to assist further if possible "I am not a great or even a good artist one but I could probably sketch a portrait if you would like?", they were probably getting close to her drop off point now.
 
He sat in the back of the cruiser, nose bleeding, and more than a little surprised at what had happened. He offered no resistance, and hunched in on himself as he waited, watched, frowned, and planned. He probably still had that stupid satchet of green whatever-it-was in his pocket. He had no idea what it even was. A blood-test would confirm that he wasn't taking anything, and he'd managed to talk himself out of tighter situations. He simply sat and watched and waited. At least this would add something to the story about police procedure...
 
Ineni listened carefully to everything Mary had to say, nodding here and there to show she had understood. At the end of her short tale, she folded her hands neatly in her lap, looking at Mary with a devious smirk. "Are you keeping something from me, darling?" While Mary had in fact been extremely thorough in her retelling of what had happened in the club, Ineni seemed to think there may be more, still wearing that oh so polite smile even as she accused the girl of lying, still impossibly charming, and still so beautiful. "I will know if you do..."

She laughed seeing that confused look on Mary's face. It was at that moment Mary would notice, through the darkened windows, that they were driving through unfamiliar streets, certainly nowhere near her destination. And Ineni's smirk... She knew, and whats more, she had planned it; deliberately taking Mary with her to God knows where.

"You see Mary. I know the man in the picture. I know him to be dead since a decade ago, and I should know, I killed him myself. But now he shows up in my club out of the blue? You see the predicament here? So why dont we start over, and this time..." Ineni suddenly shifted, to sit in Mary's lap, facing her and a leg on either side of her. "Lets make sure you tell me everything."

She caressed Mary's cheek almost affectionately, brushing the tip of her finger against her lips, gazing directly into Mary's eyes, and to the girls surprise she found herself physically unable to look away. There was something mesmerizing about Ineni's dark eyes, as if she could peer straight into her soul, her darkest secrets laid bare.

"Now, tell me everything..." Ineni's words rung through her mind even as everything went black.



When she came to again, it was face first against the cold floor tiles of a public bathroom, dirty and in dire disrepair, lights flickering on and off, and a distant rumble of trains telling her she was in the subway, somwhere... She had a pounding headache and felt slightly dizzy, immediately recognizing the feeling of being hung over, though it had been a while since she experienced it last. Her nose was bleeding, her eyes felt dry, as if she had been crying, and her mascara showed it. Worst of all was the sore feeling between her legs.

As she slowly came to she noticed there was someone else in there with her, a man, unconscious on the tiles like she had been, pants pulled down around his ankles, his cock flacid but drooling a little pool of precum. Standing up on shaky feet, she remembered how it was to wear heels, and had to grab a nearby sing to keep her balance. Seeing her reflection in the cracked mirror she was shocked to find herself in full makeup, if rather ruined from the nosebleed and the crying, and wearing only a short skirt and a tank top, showing ample cleavage. A handbag lay nearby, most of its contents scattered across the floor, as if it had been involved in the fight.

It was as if she had gone back in time to before she found God, and she had no idea where she was, what time it was, or even what day it was.
 
Mary (in car)

Mary was confused by the question about keeping something, and more when she noted the outside was not as she expected "what ..." she began, she only grew more confused when the woman talked of death and began to straddle her "wait a ..." she got out before the woman's finger touched her lips.
She was startled and confused and felt the need to blink and collect herself, but her eyelids wouldn't move ... nor would her hands to force the woman away.
Her last thought as before she blacked out was how nice the eyes were as she was found herself gazing at them.

---
Mary (in bathroom)
"Ugh" it was a pained sound as she came around, confused and disoriented - it took her a while to realize what the sound was around her, a something on tracks it clicked slowly as she began to see about standing only to early fall as she did noticing the pain her hear head - flashbacks to years earlier when she used to drink before she should have flashed back and reminded her what to do.
Crawling to the toilet she threw up the contents of her stomach allowing her body to be at least partially cleansed and some semblance of self return.

It was only now she noticed the blood on her face as she wiped her mouth with some tissue and began to get a feel for her body, between her legs took the most pressing concern as she sought to clean herself up wiping away and blood on her face and than examining her crutch - had she been raped? it was a cold internal question, she was a virgin before last night. Maybe she was lucky and it was just a hit she had taken - hopefully at any rate, her conscious mind not processing properly her unconscious took over she retched into the toilet again.

Minutes passed as she sobbed and dry heaved some more before she could stand - only now noticing her clothing, notable her heels, and than the man - revulsion ran through her and some very unchristian thoughts followed about harm to him. But she didn't know what had happened - could she have been drugged, and if so when - going through the night in her head she remembered Ineni - but was that real or an delusion from memory some pieces seemed unreal and some drugs could do that she knew ... a lovely dream until it became a nightmare. Hope sparked as she thought maybe this was the nightmare part continued, but it died quickly - you couldn't live your life in a dream and had to accept reality.

Standing and moving to the sink carefully to have some water she nearly fell until she grabbed it - and her eyes fell on her reflection, she did a double take and a triple one. This was the earthly hell she had sought to avoid for years.

Sobbing she gathered her things and than began dialing the police until she realised she had no idea where she was or how to explain anything, or even what had happened. Splashing water in her face and drinking she she cleaned off the makeup and other stains from herself she tried to make herself look as respectable as possible given the conditions. Quickly taking a picture of the mans face with the camera - this jogged her memory to search her phone for pictures from last night, to check calls, to check messages and to finally note her position and what storage it had of her journey last night - reviewing all the information carefully as she did.

Soon she could phone the police but she needed to see if anything grabbed her memory first - maybe she should search the man also she considered as she browsed her phone.
 
The police station was bustling with activity even at that late hour. The prisoners taken in the warehouse raid was taken in as one, but then quickly separated and handcuffed to chairs or desks, departmentalized and contained so as to not discuss what had happened between them. Many complained about the rough treatment, a few even sporting brand new bruises. Nobody cared.

Jean-Luc was placed on a chair in front of a desk, face to face with the gruff detective Vallon. A picture of a young smiling girl was on his desk, his daughter, one arm around her father who seemed much happier in the photo than what the writer faced now. There was a kind of fire in his eyes; determination.

"Jean-Luc du Paix, from Paris..." Detective Vallon glanced to him and then back to the picture on his driver's license. "You got a little bit of explaining to do young man, like what the hell you are doing in my city, and why..." He threw the little pouch of green crystal powder on the desk in front of him, "...are you carrying this? Is that some kind of new drug, hmm? Better start talking son, and pray that I believe you."
 
Mary found her phone on the floor, in working condition despite a new crack in the glass screen. First thing that struck her was the date; it was early morning, a seven days gap between now and the night at the warehouse. The last thing she remembered was getting into that car with Ineni. Whatever had happened in that time, she could remember none of it. Browsing through her call history there were several calls logged, three numbers in particular. One was her superior at the abbey, who had called her a good thirty times, all of which she had refused. The two other numbers listed were without any contact information, no names, no adresses, just the numbers. She tried one of them and was startled by a call tone from the man's pocket.

That revelation prompted a closer investigation of the unconscious man. Putting two fingers to his throat she concluded almost immediately that he was dead, but how?

(Rolling Perception + Medicine difficulty 7 = success!)

By sheer luck she noticed a small needle puncture by his neck. With no other obvious signs of trauma, other than a fistful of bloodied knuckles to match her nosebleed, she could only conclude this was the cause of death, an injection of some kind. Though in the gloom and the disorder of the bathroom, she could not find any sort of needle. If she searched for it perhaps, but it would take time, time she was not certain she had. Any moment someone could walk in.​
 
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