﹄¯_(ツ)_/¯xXx

13

Behind the display case with the knives is a pretty young woman with choppy blond hair and Victorian replica railway glasses. She's peered over those sunglasses to watch you like a hawk since you pushed past the Closed sign and walked in. You know that reaction: she recognizes a predator but doesn't know exactly what kind. So this place is only tangentially connected to the Tucson Camarilla. It, and she, are independent and kept that way because they're useful.

When you get closer, the young woman leans close, studying your leather jacket. Her bare arms are covered in HR Giger tattoos—sinuous biomechanical figures in shades of black, gray, and green. Finally she says, "Miguel sent you."

It's not quite a question and not quite a statement. Miguel and Carlos know each other, but you don't know the details. You did ask the Prince's second in command, Dove, about getting something to drive. Whatever. You nod.

"Call me Elena. Let's get you set up."

She throws a red leather jacket on over her tattoos. She makes sure you can see the Glock in the shoulder holster.

The cars are waiting out back.

Next

Behind the display case with the knives is a young woman with choppy blond hair and Victorian replica railway glasses. She's been watching you like a hawk since you pushed past the Closed sign and walked in. You recognize the reaction: she recognizes a predator but doesn't know exactly what kind. So this place is only loosely connected to the Tucson Camarilla. It, and she, are independent and kept that way because they're useful.

As you approach, the young woman leans close, studying your leather jacket. Her bare arms are covered in HR Giger tattoos—sinuous biomechanical figures in shades of black, gray, and green. Finally, she says, "Miguel sent you."

It's not quite a question and not quite a statement. Miguel and Carlos know each other, but you don't know the details. You did ask the Prince's second in command, Dove, about getting something to drive. You nod.

"Call me Elena. Let's get you set up."

She throws a red leather jacket on over her tattoos. She makes sure you can see the Glock in the shoulder holster.

The cars are waiting out back.

As you follow Elena to the back of the pawnshop, you can't help but feel a sense of relief. You've managed to find a way to navigate the city on your own terms. The cars are a symbol of your newfound independence, and you can't wait to get behind the wheel.

As you step outside, you're greeted by a row of sleek, black cars. Elena hands you the keys to a black BMW and wishes you luck. You can't help but feel a sense of excitement as you slide into the driver's seat. This is a new chapter in your life, and you're ready to embrace it.

"So is that a…what are they called, a Klingon knife?"
"A tajtIq? No," Elena says. Her pronunciation is flawless. "And you can't afford it. It's solid silver. For killing werewolves, I guess."
Her tone indicates that she doesn't believe in werewolves. Are there werewolves in Tucson? Maybe you should buy it…
"And I'm not selling it anyway because I think the guy who sold it might actually come back," she says. She unlocks the case and hands you the crooked silver blade. This has to be the one that Tremere was holding in the video.
Elena goes back to messing around on her phone.

Your cars are shit, Elena," Darius says.
"There's a 2018 Acura TSX behind the Volvo," she says with a shrug. "It's yours for fifteen-five. Some guy died in it, but I don't believe in ghosts."
"I do," Darius says, stepping toward the young woman.
A pretty blonde in this line of work has probably shot people before, but Darius's speed surprises her—and so does the way he suddenly stops, not close enough to reach her. She could draw her Glock and put two in his chest right now. They both know it, and she knows that he's not afraid.
Elena calculates, then says, "Maybe I can take 10% off."
"That's better," Darius growls.
As Darius negotiates the price of the car, he can't help but feel a sense of satisfaction. He's managed to assert himself in a world where strength is everything. Elena may be tough, but he's tougher. He's not afraid to stand up for himself, even in the face of danger.
As he drives away in his new car, Darius can't help but feel a sense of pride. He's managed to navigate the dangerous world of the Kindred and come out on top. He's a force to be reckoned with, and he's ready for whatever challenges lie ahead.

Elena laughs and says, "What, are you running for mayor? Do you even have a place to live?"
"Probably?" you say. "I haven't checked."
Elena laughs and says, "Give me your number."
She writes it down, then hooks her thumb behind her and says, "Mine's on the wall. Don't call me if you're in trouble."
She's not impressed—at least not yet—and you know she's going to run some searches on you, which is a risk. But maybe you can bring her around. An ally here would be useful.
Wealth: $903
Darius Blackthorn, still establishing himself in this new world, understands the importance of building alliances. While Elena may not be fully on board yet, having her as a potential ally could prove to be valuable in the future. Darius will need to tread carefully and earn her trust, as having someone like her in his corner could greatly benefit him in the complex and perilous world he now inhabits. With his current wealth, Darius will need to be resourceful and strategic in his dealings to continue to carve out his place in this unforgiving domain.

It's 2:16 according to your knockoff Panerai when you pull out of Covenant Pawn Shop in your new Honda S2000, and sunrise is 6:29 a.m. It's still early, so you drive around for an hour just to find the cheapest gas stations and the fastest ways out of town. Then you accelerate smoothly onto East Broadway Boulevard near a plasma center and head for the garage address you got earlier.
When a shadow crosses the hood of your Honda, you look up and catch a glimpse of a wing eclipsing a streetlight. Was that Prince Lettow's eagle?
You find your spot in the underground parking garage. Right in front of it is a metal door with a keypad. You grab everything from your Honda, lock it, and enter the code. Inside is an office with peeling linoleum floors, an ancient metal desk with a rusty minifridge on it, and a sleeping bag. A short tile corridor ends in a jury-rigged shower and a drain. There's a clear plastic bag and some toiletries on the tile, and a bottle of 409 that won't do anything against the smell of mildew.
There's no Wi-Fi.
Still, it's better than sleeping in an abandoned semitrailer, and your phone actually gets good reception. Even better, there are escape routes into the sewers that you can use. You loosen the grates and make sure you have a clear route into the sewers in case you're exposed.
You're just getting settled in when you hear your door lock beep. The metal door opens, and there's Julian Sim.
Next