Little Late for That

[Konrad Roth]

Equipment: Full-size van, Surveillance Equipment, Reverse Peephole, Lockpicks(Buildings), Electronics Toolkit, Wiretap(Cell Phone), Generic Holdout, FMJ .25 ammo (14 cart.), Combat Knife, Multi-Tool, Athletic Shoes, RFID reader/writer, Blank Keycards, Ski Mask, Gloves
Retainer Equipment: Spyware, Laptop, Laptop Battery
-1 Vitae for Blush

South Sacramento is a big place and the residential area stretching out along I-5 is a labyrinth of suburban housing, dotted with commercial hubs and strip mall shopping. All Konrad has is an address for Carlos Perez. The rest is guesswork. The dirty magazine and the going pay-rate for work in the shipping department give hints to Perez's lifestyle and personality. But most men have their guilty pleasures and distribution receiving has decent pay, enough to budget an apartment or low-income housing maybe.

It's not much to go on, especially after sitting on this for two months. But considering all the shit he's gone through with Hunters and Investigators, it's just as well that he took some time to lay low. Tonight Konrad is only concerned with getting that keycard. Depending on what sort of digs Perez is holed up in would determine his approach. He hops in his van and informs his well-paid employee to meet him for a job. Ideally, if he could get his hands on the card with no one the wiser then he could have Contrary scan it before returning it, again with none the wiser. But nothing ever goes so smoothly, so he may have to ponder alternatives.

He taps into his Vitae to bring forth the semblance of life. For what he pays the hacker, she doesn't ask questions, but he doesn't want her to suspect what he really is either. He informs her of his intent. RFID identity theft, and that he'll need her to make two clones of the card for him. That is, if he can get his hands on it. For now Konrad will head to the address to case it, driving slowly past the location before coming to a stop in as inconspicuous a spot as he can manage.

They drive in relative silence. The plain auburn-haired woman in an open buttoned shirt over tank top and jean shorts has her laptop in her lap with the power cable in the van console dc power outlet. She adjusts her glasses in the midst of typing away at some code or other. Once they arrive though, Konrad instructs her to move to the cargo space and monitor the wireless and radio frequencies on her computer and his surveillance equipment. He doesn't know how long they'll be here, but he's not about to waste all his Vitae on maintaining appearances in front of the Kine.

OOC

Not sure if this plot is still active, or if this effort will have any bearing on what's already transpired, but I'm running on a 'better late than never' campaign at present

[West]

It's about what one would expect from the area.

To wit: A squat home that a realtor would refer to 'plantation', but everyone had long since learned was a euphemism for 'shotgun'. Faded letters on the mailbox declare it to be the ERE residence; fortunate, since the curbside lettering has long since been eroded away by time and despair.

Roxie Hart doesn't live here anymore.

Because that's where Konrad is. Deep in the former territory of his Regent cousin whose memory slowly fades like numbers on a curb.

[Konrad Roth]

A symbol of poverty sitting on the small plot of land gives Konrad some hope that this would be an easy 'heist'. But a man's home is his castle and not without a means of defense.

Gathering the tools of his trade, he pockets his lockpicks, multi-tool, mask, gloves, reverse peephole, and holsters his loaded gun, which is more intimidation tactics if it comes to that. If all goes according to his plan he shouldn't need it. He turns to speak through the divider to his associate.

"See if you can't monitor the police frequencies for any dispatch orders to this area. Call my phone if you hear anything," Konrad instructs her before turning his phone to vibrate. He's about to be doing some suspicious activity and it'll be nice to have an idea if police are on the way to investigate a night prowler.

Konrad exits the van and makes his way to the front door of the house, checking the windows for lights and activity. As he gets closer he starts to look for signs of additional security. If the door has a peephole then he'll take out his reverse peephole to take a look inside.

[West]

The windows are dark, but there's spills of light at the edges. Weak, flickering. Most likely, a television seeping around the edges of blinds. Definitely television. Konrad can faintly hear the sonorous voice of a game show host and canned laughter.

Konrad's probably old enough to have picked up enough trivia to get rich on a game show. Then again, national television isn't kind to Kindred. Particularly not Konrad, at this point in his Requiem.

The peephole is like looking down the barrel of a gun. Pitch. Black. Either the foyer is dark, or it's been taped over.

A faintly lit doorbell glares at him accusingly.

[Konrad Roth]

The fact that the lights are off are a good sign. The television too. Either Perez fell asleep in front of it or he's watching it now. The noise would cover his entry. The dark peephole doesn't concern him too much. Some came installed with shutters for that very reason.

Konrad glances at the doorbell. Sure, he could ring it, make up an excuse for being there, or just shove his gun in the Kine's face. But he doesn't want a scene if he can help it. Best to just let himself in.

He tries the doorknob, quite sure it'll be locked. It is that kind of neighborhood. If so, he dons his mask, wearing it as a hat without pulling it all the way down just yet before taking out his lockpicks to begin working on the door. He works quietly, hoping the sounds of the game show will conceal his efforts.

[West]

Konrad's got nimble fingers, and he's seen a lock or few in his life... and unlife. It doesn't take long before he feels the tumblers turning and sliding in the cut-rate lower-end standard house lock.

[Konrad Roth]

It's always a satisfying sound to hear when a door is cooperative. But too often followed with disappointment when an alarm goes off or a door chain obstructs a silent entry. There's really only one way to find out if this door has either.

He puts the lockpicks away, pulls the mask down over his head and puts on the gloves he brought. Very gently, Konrad turns the knob and cracks the door open, listening for alarms, Perez, or any other obstructions to tonight's larceny.

[West]

Seems clear.

[Konrad Roth]

Fortune holds. If he'd been holding his breath he'd probably let it out in a sigh of relief. Now to business. He attempts to move through the threshold, creeping quietly into what counts for a foyer in this place. His first goal is to find out where Perez is. Shutting the door behind him, he'll glance into the space where the lit television casts its glow, hoping to see a sleeping body there.

[West]

Only an immortal could properly appreciate just how long Wheel of Fortune has been on the air.

The interior is dim, and has that peculiar smell. Old person smell. Dated furnishings in god-awful Seventies industrial greens and golds are randomly lit by whites and blues from the ambient television light like a disco ball from hell. Pictures on the wall show the progression of a toddler into a solid young man.

In the living room, Konrad hears soft muttering.

Someone's a Couch Contestant.