The Very Unlucky Gangrel and the Problems of Letting a Nosferatu Get a Photo of You
"What do you want..?" The Nosferatu's face twisted into a deformed grin, showing his sharp teeth.
"Oh... nothing too much, boss... just a little something in exchange for us hacking those security cams..." The Gangrel looked at Gary Golden with a suspicious expression on her face. She definitely did not like where this was going. What was he going to ask her to do? To put camera's into LaCroix's bathroom? Egg the Tremere Chantry? Something equally as suicidal?
"Please continue Mr Golden... what do you want."
"A photograph of the first of LaCroix's lackeys who actually comes down here to speak with us rather than ordering us about... that being you, boss." She hadn't been expecting that.
"What? That's it?"
"That's it." She didn't like that insane smirk that was covering his face. While she liked most of the Nosferatu well enough, she didn't particularly trust the Primogen. She also didn't like being referred to as 'LaCroix's lackey' as she was a independent by nature. But she really couldn't see how her photograph could be a problem. She half wished she'd been sired by a Ventrue now. She'd be better at working out consequences at any rate.
"...Fine... Do you want it now?"
"That I do, boss." And with that he whipped out a rather expensive looking camera from god-knows-where. "Just look bored. Or maybe pout a little bit..." And he started snapping away chatting avidly to her about what expression she should pull. The Gangrel felt very uncomfortable, but did as was asked. And eventually she was let out of the Warrens.
"Weird..." She muttered as she vanished off into the night to get her next job done.
Gary Golden giggled gleefully as he brought the camera through to Perseus, an expert at Photoshop and airbrushing. "I've got a teensy little favour to ask for Old Gary."
Beckett was wandering through the streets of Santa Monica towards the hospital. He's heard that there was a Ghoul there who sold blood packs and he could do with a quick emergency supply. Despite his calm expression his brain was continuously active, ticking over bits and pieces of information. Noddist history, the Ankaran Sarcophagus, the new fledgling in LA. There never seemed to be a quiet moment in his head. His thoughts, however, were rudely interrupted by a folder which bounced off his head. He spun around, but there was no body about and he couldn't sense any ill intent in the air. He glanced down at the large envelope, now lying on the pavement. There was a note scrawled across the front. "To Beckett. With love." He raised an eyebrow and picked it up.
Deep in the confines of the Tremere Chantry, Maximillium Strauss was studying a hefty tome until a knock at the door caught his attention. One of the apprentices stood at the door, holding a letter for him. They handed it to him without a word and left once more. The entire front of the envelope was taken up with scribbled handwriting, saying "Hey Maxy, thought you'd like this". He got the feeling that he probably wouldn't and poured himself a tall champagne glass full of blood. Taking the glass over to the coffee table which occupied the centre of the room he picked up a letter opener and sliced through the top of the letter.
The Last Round was as noisy as ever. The Anarchs were a loud, unruly bunch and stood, cheering and whistling, around one of the tables where Damsel and Skelter were taking part in a "friendly" arm wrestling match. Nines Rodriguez leaned against a wall, watching in amusement as his friends struggled and pushed, trying to get the better of each other, determined to prove that the other one was no match for them. Brujah were kind of competitive like that. Jack came over, his usual toothy grin, which had earned him the nickname of Smiling Jack, plastered across his face.
"Bwahaha, hey man, thought she showed us last week that she could wipe the floor with his ass." he said, gesturing at the two Brujah at the table.
"Yeah... but Skelter won't accept it. Heard him muttering about how he should never have been beaten by a chick." Nines chuckled at his friend's ego while Jack roared with laughter.
"Hey, by the way man, found a letter for you."
"What d'you mean 'found'?" Jack shrugged.
"Literally, 'found it'. Lying by the front step. Well, later, man!" And with that Jack strolled off upstairs. Nines glanced at the front. "Enjoy Rodriguez. I'm sure you will ;)"
Sebastian LaCroix was a very busy man. He sat at his desk in the penthouse level of his tower, signing forms and making brief notes to himself to remember. Even by Ventrue standards he was considered a bit of a workaholic. He never seemed to stop. He couldn't afford to. After all, he had to run a massive organisation and a secret society of vampires. And he couldn't stay up to do work during the daylight hours. There was a buzz from his secretary.
"Mr LaCroix, a letter has just arrived for you." He grimaced. More work. Either that, or another clumsy kindred had made a mistake and he would be the one who had to deal with it. Pressing a button on his desk which opened a microphone between the penthouse and the reception he ordered her to send it up to him.
The fledgling Gangrel sat counting the money she'd received for her last job. Smooth jazz played in the background and she actually felt relaxed for a moment of her un-life. Getting up, she moved to the fridge and grabbed a chilled blood pack to celebrate a job well done. The sound of a key in the lock of her front door barely made her twitch, knowing it would be Heather returning. She turned around to welcome her Ghoul home. Heather smiled at her master, no longer freaked out to see the woman drinking from a blood pack.
"Master, there was a package for you in your letter box."
"Oh. I take it you brought it up with you?"
"Yes master." The Ghoul smiled, happy to please and be of service, handing over the envelope. The front of it was covered in a swirly handwriting that was quite difficult to read. "Hey, boss. Thought you'd like to see what I did with those photos of you". There was a sinking feeling in her stomach. She wasn't really sure if she wanted to know... Putting her now empty blood pack in the bin she gingerly opened the envelope as though it would bite her. There was a large folded piece of paper inside which reminded her a lot of the posters of naked kindred he kept sending- Oh God... He hadn't... He wouldn't... Would he..? With a growing feeling of dread she unfolded the picture and was greeted with a picture of her head, photoshopped onto the body of a very much naked woman, standing in a highly provocative pose. She stared for a long time. And the feeling of dread slowly twisted into a deep rage. She honest to god should have seen it coming...
"You have got to be fucking kidding me..." Her voice was dangerously quiet. Heather tried to come over to see what was wrong, but the Gangrel was faster and folded it back up, shoving it back in the envelope. This was ridiculous. This was humiliating. This was... probably what she deserved after all the times she'd asked the Nosferatu for help. She slumped back into the sofa. "Well at least he made me look hot." she muttered. She'd just have to burn the picture, then no one would ever know. Or would that make Gary angry that she'd destroyed his 'gift'? To be perfectly honest she didn't particularly care. She could not afford for any of her peers to see this. It would be... horrifically mortifying at best.
Not very far away, in the Tremere Chantry, Strauss pulled the folded piece of heavy paper out of the envelope, curious to see what it was. Raising the champagne glass, he started to take a sip of the blood, but ended up choking on it when he unfolded the poster. Wiping his mouth with a handkerchief he stared at the picture in a silent mixture of horror, rage and embarrassment for about half a minute until his senses came back to him and he quickly folded the poster back up and stood up. He doubted that the neonate would send the poster to him herself, she seemed to have some sense of dignity, but he couldn't be sure. He downed the rest of his glass and marched out of his office. Any Tremere that met him down the hallway backed away pretty quickly. It was pretty rare to see the Regent this furious and none of them particularly wanted to face his wrath.
Beckett stood in the middle of the pavement, jaw slack and eyes wide. He'd been expecting a note of blackmail. Some note about the whereabouts of an artefact. He had most definitely not been expecting to receive a poster of a naked kindred. The Gangrel fledgling no less. He would never have guessed she was that sort. When he'd spoken with her she had been well mannered and almost shy. He quickly stuffed the poster back in its envelope and decided to make a small detour to Downtown LA. The blood could wait. He was quite interested as to how she would get herself out of this. He half considered binning the poster, but he couldn't quite bring himself to do so.
The floor boards of the stairs creaked as Nines sat on the stairs and pulled the poster out of the mutilated package. He supposed he should have used a knife to open it. He hoped it would be some dirt on LaCroix or any of the other 'Cammy' bastards which would enable to kick them out on their asses once and for all. So imagine his surprise at what it really was. He'd thought the kid was kind of cute when they'd talked, but never in that sort of way until he got the poster. He had a funny feeling he wouldn't see her in quite the same way again. Guessing that she'd want to know that naked posters of her were getting circulated about LA he figured that he should probably go and tell her. Aw hell, this was going to be awkward.
A loud bleep coming from the computer alerted the poor, irritable Gangrel that she had an e-mail. She climbed the stairs and logged in to see that she'd gotten a message from 'VV'. She sighed. It was probably a new poem declaring her absolute adoration. The Toreador had become very attached to her after she'd helped her out with her hunter problems.
"To my beautiful saviour,
I must say I'm flattered that you sent me that poster. I'll treasure it forever.
The Gangrel sat frozen. What... The... Fuck... It couldn't be the same one... Well at least it was Velvet Velour. Could be worse she thought. Then there was a knock at the door of her apartment.
-A/N- I had quite a lot of fun writing so far. Feedback would be good. Ending of this may change depending on what people request. Next chapter we get to see the poor kid facing the wrath of several angry vampires.