The old church is quiet tonight. Too quiet. A red-haired Shadow dressed like a hitman stands there, alone. There, amid the aisle where he can almost see ornate pews filled with Kindred of faith. Too much time has been lost since the first night Michael set foot in it. Michael had made a promise to see his dear friend's dreams a reality. And what have I done for him? The Shadow clenches and unclenches his fists; angry with himself. First for not doing more. Then for making such a promise in the first place. This is not his home and these are not his real allies. Beyond this movement he is silent and still. Much like the church. The church that has been and remains a lost piece of history. It is, perhaps, a moot point - Father Galilei hasn't been here to comment on it.
Michael finally relaxes his fist and turns, slowly, to face the door. Tonight, there is work to be done. Abgal has finally made his wishes known. No longer would Michael be a sleeper agent in this city of politics and transient bloodsuckers. The true test of his abilities lies ahead. He is ready. He walks to the door, thinking of all the nights he spent learning from the Kindred here. Perhaps all of that networking will actually pay off. Michael smiles an almost imperceptibly small smile. His thoughts are focused on a goal, once more. The Reliquary of Saint Mary the Red. Michael wonders, as he crack the old wooden door open, if he will be seeing scorpions tonight.
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