---- Recall start ----

From afar, James blinks. Eyow. They went to SEATTLE?

You paged James with 'That's where they live. You don't shit in your own nest.'.

From afar, James ooh, good point. :>

From afar, James will let you log this one if you want it. :>

Long distance to James: Jenny will find out if it's log-worthy or not. (:

From afar, James lets you run things. I'm just the bodyguard. I have a big gun 
and I can kick ass. I have not a very high willpower.

You paged James with 'Wait. Are you the talkative one?'.

From afar, James thinks Derek has a high Willpower, though, so won't flip out 
if Angelo gets furry. Ummmm. I don't know. I'm the driver.

You paged James with 'Okay, then you are.'.

From afar, James nods. OK. Who was the one who laid in with the physical 
beating, the rib-cracking stuff? Me or Derek?

Long distance to James: Jenny thinks... It sounds like Derek.

From afar, James nods. James just wanted to fuck her. :> OK, I'm set, I think. 
Just keep me in on things... are you talking to Angelo about where he ends up 
going?

You paged James with 'Yeah, this fits with my remembery of things. And Angelo 
hasn't responded since I told him the room #'.

Angelo has arrived.

You say "Yay!"

You say "Angelo's got information and a ritual, I believe?"

Angelo nods. "He may have enough on them now to trace them to their 'pad'."

You say "Cool. Lay it on me."

Angelo considers. "He's had descriptions of them from Rina and Collin, and 
Collin drew him a picture. He's also been dropping in at the Temple, biding his 
time, waiting for them to come out of hiding. If they've been there at all, 
he's taken the time to observe one or both, depending."

You say "Okay. He hasn't spotted them back at the Temple. And his Stone has led 
him to a cavernous warehouse rave in Renton, about half a mile from Jimi 
Hendrix' grave."

Angelo says "Renton? That's whereabouts from St. Claire?"

You say "Over the mountains and north toward the Sound."

Angelo checks his sheet. "He would probably have had to borrow transportation 
from one of his contacts. Some sort of junker car."

Jenny nods. "I didn't figure this would be too hard to arrange, and kind of 
handwaved it."

James says "And Seattle isn't that far away, right? A few hours."

You say "Right."
You say "Probably half an hour, if traffic is bad."

Angelo nods. "How is this layed out? Are we in the suburbs, or the back 
country, or is this a small city?"

You say "Renton is pretty much a suburb of Seattle."
You say "It's over the other side of the lake."

Angelo nods. "And the rave is in a warehouse? Heavily or sparsely populated 
area?"

You say "The warehouse is packed. The area, however, is industrial and thus 
more or less empty."

You say "Well. The warehouse is half full, but that half is packed."

Angelo nods. "And cars parked about the surrounding streets?"

You say "Yeah."

Angelo nods. "Before we get to the character interaction, I'd like to park the 
junker a fair distance off, then wander the rest of the way on foot. 
Specifically he'll be looking for a dark blue Saturn."

Jenny nods. "Makes sense. There are at least seven dark-coloured Saturns, 
though, between him and the deep-bass thumping that he finally identifies as 
his target."

James says "Ooooh! Rave!!"

Jenny pats James. Glad you could make it.

Angelo sighs. "This complicates things, but sacrifices must be made. Not too 
many people outside? Reasonably dark?"

You say "Pretty dark, full moon. Almost nobody outside. A handful of people."

You say "One of them's got a police scanner."

Angelo nods. "I don't recall anything about them having a scanner, so Dante 
will have to play the percentages. He'll palm his knife, make a show of looking 
for his vehicle as he comes in. Where he's unobserved he's slashing Saturn 
tires, one per vehicle, preferably passenger's front. He won't spend too much 
time near any one car; if people are looking, he'll give up on that one and 
move on."

Jenny nods. "Nobody's paying any attention to him. He finds it amazingly easy. 
He could shift to Crinos, pick up the vehicles one by one and walk off with 
them."

Angelo says "Tucking his knife away, then, he'll head on inside, following the 
stone. Which may look a little odd, but hopefully people will have other things 
on their mind."

The music is loud, nearly overpowering, and the warehouse is steamy. There's a 
large, unattended punchbowl, its surface vibrating to the beat, some ten yards 
inside. Beyond that is a swarming mass of writhing humanity illuminated by the 
occasional sweep from a light of some colour or other.

Angelo squints through the darkness, sighting along the axis of the stone. 
Where the dancers permit he shifts forward or to the side, doing his best to 
follow a path.

It's not too hard, in fact. Off to one side, up near the DJ's booth, Derek and 
James are holding a conversation, such as it is, with a lithe young highschool 
boy in a raggedy Cure T-shirt.

Angelo tucks the stone away, smiling faintly to himself. He takes a steadying 
breath, then approaches.

You paged James with 'This is your cue. The talking bit. We're luring the boy 
off to the punchbowl where we can get him a drink.'.

James cracks his sociable-thug smile. "C'mon, man," his voice shouts through 
the music. "Maybe we can talk about music, heh? See, we heard your band last 
week, and we just wanna talk to ya. Let's go get a drink, and have a chat."

James spreads his hands, smiling broadly at the young man. "Come on. Whaddaya 
say?"

You paged James with 'Once we get him the drink, we can spike it and take him 
somewhere.'.
Long distance to James: Jenny dies laughing. Of /course/ he has a band. 
/Everybody/ up there is in a band.

Angelo covers an ear with one hand, leaning forward a little and peering at 
Derek with a puzzled expression. "Are you Derek?" he shouts at last, apparently 
uncertain.

The boy smiles against his will, impressed that he's been recognised. "Well. I 
can't sign anything without the other guys, y'know? But what's a drink, right?"

Derek frowns at Angelo in bemusement, then looks to James.

From afar, James is suddenly reminded of Pulp Fiction. Aie.
You paged James with 'Which part?'.

Angelo looks up at the other man, raising an eyebrow. "Are *you* Derek?" he 
shouts again, more dubious now.

James's attention snaps to the man as he comes up to them; his eyes narrow 
slightly. "What do /you/ want?" He puts on his intimidating get-lost face.

Angelo holds up a hand, straightening to increase the distance, "Hey," he 
calls, mildly cowed. "Listen, some guy outside just said you'd be back here. He 
said there was somebody fucking with your car."

Derek's frown deepens, and he again glances at James.

James's eyes narrow, and he glances to Derek as if for confirmation of the 
man's wishes.
James pages: Should I go look, boss?

You paged James with 'Of course you should. Tell the boy you'll be right back.'.

James nods minutely to Derek, and offers a rueful smile to the young man in the 
Cure shirt. "I'll just go check this out, and then we'll have that drink, 
aright?"

Angelo lowers his hand, watching James. He steps back a little to get out of 
the way.

The boy seems hardly phased. "Hey, if you catch them, kick their asses," he 
says in a most friendly manner.

James's face creases in another gangland smile, and he nods. One last glance at 
Derek, and the burly man turns to head out toward the parking lot.

Derek turns his attention to the thronging horde, instantly forgetting the boy 
standing next to him.

Angelo backpedals a few steps before turning to follow at a distance, concerned 
perhaps, or perhaps just idly interested in the denouement.

Long distance to James: Jenny waves. Okay, b'bye.
From afar, James meets his fate stoically. :>

James heads out to the Saturn, prepared to break some heads; his expression is 
stony as he quietly stalks through the area around the car.

Angelo follows outside and into darkness; as he passes out of the light, his 
form ripples subtly, silently. As James closes in on the car, he closes on the 
other man. One hand reaches behind, beneath his coat.

Angelo shifts into Glabro form.

James glares about him for a time, and then finally leans down to check the 
tires.

Angelo bends calmly over the other man. He slips his knife smoothly out of its 
scabbard, turns it point-down, and drives it full-force into the back of James' 
neck, just below the skull. One hand grips the handle, the other palm thrusts 
forward from the pommel.

A choked sound comes from the man, as he topples forward: a felled tree, 
landing flat beside the car as the blood begins to flow. The awareness in his 
wide eyes soon flickers into the dull stare of death.

Angelo withdraws the knife the instant the glimmer is gone from his eyes. He 
wipes it twice on the man's shirt, once for each side, then tucks it away 
again, straightening. With one boot he shoves at the corpse until it is 
underneath the Saturn.

Angelo shifts into Homid form.

Angelo takes a steadying breath, then heads quietly back towards the club. He 
slips inside, weaves his way back towards where Derek and the young man were 
standing.

They haven't moved. It looks as if Derek hasn't spoken. The boy sways along 
with the hypnotic demon beat, and may have forgotten his 'fan club'.

Angelo returns to the pair, tucking his hands into the pockets of his coat. His 
expression now is one of regret, perhaps a touch of worry. "Derek," he shouts, 
apparently sure this time, "Listen, man, James said he wants you out there. 
Whoever these dicks were they really did a number, you know?"

Derek looks at Angelo as if he were some bizarre alien life form in a small 
glass box. Then, after a moment, he stands and shrugs at the boy.

Angelo flashes the boy a faint smile, then turns to pace the other man, a 
little ways back.

Derek moves out of the warehouse, following the same path. He does not seem to 
hurry, but he moves quickly. He does not seem to look upset, but he radiates 
annoyance.

Angelo plans his shift for just about the same point, making sure the other 
man's back is turned; as he ripples into his larger form, he continues to 
follow without comment.

Angelo shifts into Glabro form.

Derek frowns as they near the car, and turns to look back over his shoulder. 
"Where's James?" he demands.

Angelo works a hand around behind his trenchcoat. Scratching? The 
back-and-forth motion gives that impression, as does the slight wince. "Under 
the car," he says, a little gutturally, with a nod. "They did something to the 
underbody."

Derek frowns and turns back around. "James?" he calls out, one hand on the 
wind shield as he leans down slightly.

Angelo shifts forward smoothly but quickly behind the other man, hooking an arm 
under the one that supports Derek's weight against the windshield; he lifts 
roughly up and back, a burst of strength intended to straighten the other man. 
In the same motion the knife flashes out of hiding and around, drawn in an 
attempt at a full-edge slash across the man's voice-box and windpipe.

Derek is a cannily wary man, living a life of paranoia, and this is the only 
thing that saves him. The blade catches him deeply across the blade of his 
hand, catching and sticking on the bone. He stares at his hand blankly for a 
single instant, his shoulder still racked up under Angelo's arm.

Angelo locks his arm around the other man, snarling softly in frustration. He 
wrenches the knife free, then brings it crashing down in a no-nonsense thrust 
into the side of Derek's neck, just above the collar-bone.

Derek dies, unsurprisingly, quietly, and falls limp into Angelo's arms.

Angelo pushes the body away, face-forward, whichever, really, so long as it's 
below car-level. He shifts down, settles tiredly on the dead man's waist, leans 
back against the door of the Saturn. "You know," he murmurs to no one in 
particular, leaning forward to wipe of the knife. "I thought about leaving 
*you* alive, Derek. Get you somewhere private. Play a few of those games you 
love to play. But you shit, you had to drive out to bumfuck for a dance party 
instead of staying at home like a good little goth. So it came to this."

Angelo shifts into Homid form.

In the dark, Angelo barely notices the movement. The chrome of the pistol 
glinting in the streetlight is what destroys Derek's effort to subtly grab one 
of James' pistols.

Angelo reacts as quickly as he can, leaning out and pinning the man's reaching 
hand with the blade of his weapon; the other hand brushes the gun back 
underneath the car. "Oh ho, you tricky bastard," he intones, severely. "Faking 
it. Not too much longer, though, I'm thinking," he opines, speculatively 
considering the flow of blood. "Well. This is good, in a way. At least you'll 
know you didn't die for nothing. Stick with me here, babe, we'll cover a little 
ground."

Derek turns his head to look back at Angelo. His expression is pretty neutral, 
but his eyes boil like a geyser left on the stove too long.

Angelo meets the other man's eyes evenly, with startlingly little trace of 
pity. "Yes, I know. If it makes you feel any better, you did better than James 
under there; he went down like a stuck pig." He stretches his free arm. "Well. 
You haven't got much time, so let's do this. Rina Vencenzo. Remember that 
name?" He considers Derek for a moment longer before looking away. "Probably 
not. Easy come, easy go, eh? She lives in St. Claire. A few months ago, on a 
lark, you and your buddy tortured her, then beat the crap out of her and left 
her for dead."

Derek does not look away. Weakly, he says "Left her at the hospital. With 
money."

Angelo answers icily, "And that makes it okay." He spits, not taking special 
care to make sure that it clears his seat. "Whatever hell you end up in, you 
might want to consider that not everyone wants to play your games. And *your* 
games have consequences." After a moment's silence, he rocks forward to stand, 
removing the knife. "When I join you there, we can chat about what you've 
concluded."

The knife may have been the only thing keeping him up. As soon as the blade 
pulls free, Derek's head drops to the ground.

Angelo gets to his feet, tucking the knife away. He looks down at Derek's body 
for a thoughtful moment, then does him the courtesy of crouching to check his 
pulse; no reason not to make sure, now. A token effort to shove the body into 
shadow, and he's heading for his junker.

Derek has the good manners to be dead, this time.

Angelo pages to the room: Well. Thank you both for your time. I tried to move 
things along as quickly as I could.
Jenny pages the room: I think things went very nicely.
From afar, to the room, James does too.
---- Recall end ----

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