Dillon Connery ( Wolven Pryde ) is whisked away with two of the 4 brides present. Where the other ones went he does not know. Dillon road in the back of a suv, a large blonde man is driving. One of each twin was on either side of him. They pulled up to a gas station and parked as if they were waiting for something. The blonde man was very large, 7 feet tall more then likely, but can't really tell for sure as he is sitting down. It is obvious that he is a muscular man though.
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No knowledge of the fate of the others would wear on Dillon if he allowed it, so of course, he doesn't allow it. Too many times the soldier boy had carried on, focused on the mission when all else was unknown. He would play his part, the hand that was dealt him, so to speak. Everything else would take care of itself.
Dillon's Requiem pulsed fiercest when it was in danger. While Dillon himself chilled to about ten degrees below cool.
"Unsubtle or not," he begins in the casual air of just making conversation. "That whole mess was well coordinated. Nicely done."
Staying intensely aware of the two Brides and their position, the Gangrel tries to gauge the bloke driving a little better. He needed to know if he was just a ghoul or... a really big blood doll. Dillon urges his Beast to sniff around at the others, if they emitted one, to get a feel for the comparative power. Outwardly, he sits with his hands clasped loosely in his lap, one leg in each of the other ladies' floorboard section as he straddles the middle hump. Surely, having him ride 'bitch' was as much of a statement as it was a security measure.
The SUV pulls into a old fire house and parks. "Get out." The man says turning to look at Dillon and the girls.
"You'll have to forgive Teller."
"He's a bit on edge since he started found out that some girl is in town."
"I wonder if she is good in bed."
"Lets go, He's waiting." Teller said sticking his head back in the car.
As the twins get out they both leave open the door for Dillon to get out.
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'He's waiting'? Clearly, the information that the Brides were an all-female group of Kindred was outdated. Or perhaps it had been misinformation from the get-go. Then again, perhaps the Brides were just a small part of a bigger puzzle.
Exiting the SUV on the left, as it kept his dominant hand free, Dillon takes a 'curious' peek around before following the others to wherever the pow-wow would be. "So, this is the firehouse... Hm." He's looking for sentinels and their positions, mostly. Who has a Beast, who doesn't. Vantage points, condition of the streets around, whether or not anyone might be on the overpass in the picture they'd looked up, etc. Basically, anything contradicting their information, or anything new that he didn't yet know.
After both of those drawn out meetings about planning this, and teams, and all that crap... Here I am doing it by myself. I could have done this months ago.
1 success. Clan Weakness finally strikes again :3
As Dillon follows he sees that the Brides are indeed not alone, they have a number of ghouls and thralls within the building. As Dillon makes his way up the steps the feeling of 2 other very strong beasts give him a one two punch right in the chest. Dillon also notices pipes running throughout the building. This wouldn't be weird except the pipes are new, and the rest of the place is not.
"Hallo Mysther Connory, I am thold you whish tho jhoin our little insurgency." A large man, over 6 feet, long black hair and black skin. He wears no shirt, showing his pierced nipples and tattoos "Ith that the caseth?"
picture
The man's beast is fearsome within him, but Dillon can feel another beast equally as strong and also familiar.
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Dillon accepted the lack of conversation from the group without comment. It just made his job easier, anyway. Nothing particularly surprising stood out to him, save for the pipes. Did the vampires care for their human thralls enough to update the building's plumbing for them? He doubted it. Something picked at his memory about it, though. That the majority of the Beasts were weaker than his, with a number that were equal, and a few stronger, seemed about right, though.
The hackles of his own monster raise, as it growls defiantly to the stronger, but Dillon quells it firmly. This is not the place. Well, it may be the place, but it is most definitely not the time. He wondered at the identity of the familiar one, but if everyone else's assumption about the identity of the minute creature he'd spotted in the crowd was true, he had an idea.
The Gangrel Priscus greets the wild looking man and his towering Beast with a calm, but polite bow of his head. He then assumes a similar stance as he'd done in the crowd: feet apart, weight evenly distributed, left hand loosely gripping the wrist of the other. When his voice comes, it is intense, confident, but respectful. "I hope to discuss the possibility, yes. It has become apparant to me that the Domain of Sacramento currently lacks the firm hand that Kindred require; and that I am used to giving. If you believe my skills and knowledge may be of use to you, or your leader if you are not they, in the coming seizure of power or the rule thereafter; here I am. I'm sure we can come to some agreement. If not, I won't stand in your way." He finishes the short introduction with an even shorter nod. The fact that his name was already known to the man was not a terribly big surprise; one of them had seen his face before through the eyes of the prostitute he'd shredded. Surely they'd been making inquiries somehow.
"Whell Vhat dho you whant Misther Connerhy?" The man asks tilting his head and sizing up the man. Dillon can't be sure if this guy wants to eat him or fuck him... or maybe both.
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What do I want?
The question doesn't exactly catch Dillon off-guard, but it wasn't expected, either. He'd been waiting for, perhaps, a 'what can you do for us?', but not a question of his terms first. It was an easy recovery though, as he knew how to turn it around. "I want to help you rid this city of its weakness, in whatever form I can. That includes keeping you informed on, and destroying whatever Kindred you set me against, as I am well-equipped to handle most any of them.
"All but one." He considers who's Requiem would be put at the least risk by his actual condition, who could be counted upon to handle herself against these forces if some of them were to set against her. He remembers Alice, and her outstanding performance at the 'shoot-out in the Ember. "So if I am permitted a request-- it is a tall order, but if you can fill it, you will have my eternal loyalty-- there is a beautiful little Daeva I would like for a pet, or barring that, I might like to eat her soul.
"Twist. The Royal Archon. And Alder Judex of Sacramento."
"Sho fhor theh cost of whon of the mhost phowerfhul khindred ihn the city, whath whill youh ghive meh in rheturn, bheyohnd yhour lhoyalty." The man asks with a evil smile.
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Dillon nods, with a twitch of a smile. "I can get you the linchpin that holds this domain's defenses together: Conner Greyson. When something is managed with any semblance of order or coordination in this place, he is usually responsible. The quicker you topple him, the quicker Sacramento falls.
"The problem is, he's..." Dillon searches for a polite descriptor. Paranoid? Suspicious? Freezing cold? The surly, serious Mekhet stereotype personofied? "Cautious. And won't be easily drawn into a conflict he can't win. But Give me a chance, and I'll have his head on a plate for you.
"Sound fair?"
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