Path of the Vampire forum

Game faces on, boys and girls. Meet me at The Place, bring your toys. Time for a little Chinese take out.

Dominique:HOPE reached towards the stereo and pushed the volume button down to silence the sounds of Drowning Pool. The slow sweep of LESS moved across her face and dusted the nearly perfect snowflakes that had accumulated enough that her eyeballs were blinking out the last of the flakes by the time she sat up. With a stretch she closed the sunroof and shook her dark head. The black cell in the empty coin tray rattled until she picked it up. The message that appeared across the screen was clear. It was show time. Rose inked feet dropped back into their boots and the smart car fired back up without a second thought. Everything she needed was in the back seat. She never left without being ready for fun.

The light beams of cars coming and going through the intersection gave her a few seconds to send out a text to Victor and check the mug on the picture sent courtesy of Wilson the club legal eagle. She was hungry while she waited for the lights to switch in her favor.

Chinese take-out sounded damn good the more she thought about it. Chicken fried rice, cream cheese won-tons. She could not put it to her lips and taste it but she sure as hell could taste it vividly as if she was all with her mind. If they weren’t expected ASAP by Ven she would have tried to tempt Victor into a swing by the local Fortune Cookie. Her gut ached as she resigned to the whole idea having to wait.

The obnoxious rev of an engine next to her had her take her focus from the cell in her hand and glance over to the lane next to her. No surprise. A kid all of twenty one at the most is laughing and bouncing in the seat of his new mustang like the joke was on her. As if she didn’t know she was in a smart car with a white cat covering the door with a bow on its ear. She didn’t have time for this.

The light turned green and off the punk squealed his tires across the intersection. Good thing she had other things to take care of. A right turn was made and she headed towards the one spot where Victor could be found. He would be ready and so would she given that Ven was calling them into play. She rolled up and stopped. There was no need to get out. She leaned over and popped the passenger door open.

“Hop in, brother.” Her dimples were full and front and center on her cheeks. She turned down the stereo and left Drowning Pool to a whisper. “I got room for you and the arsenal, no worries.”


Victor: He’d been through this type of **** before. His last MC had done the same with probably the ***** faction of this same Triad years ago. In comparison, what they’d done back then was kicking a few kids out of the sandbox because they had better toys. Layers were applied on his body of clothing and weaponry. He’d not been proficient with a knife since being turned, but there was no reason not to have the items on hand if the melee got intense.

Better be safe than sorry if hearing the stories of Jessie and most of Fforde being killed in their skirmish had been true. Bottoms of his jeans covered over the dagger and glock 23 at his ankles. Boots were pushed on and tied to make sure nothing could be free of a good curb stomping. He’d even bought a new pair just for this occasion. Look at him accessorizing. Dom would be so pleased with him. Ha! Black sweater followed after a white beater. Then his gun holsters. Man was going prepared for war. They weren’t playing around tonight.

Sound of a car pulling up outside the house caught his attention. Was it..whining? Electric? The ****. Jacket followed after his guns were settled into leather and his MC cut was slipped on in the finale. Phone, cigarettes, keys to the house. Everything in check. ******* go time. Boots moved him in quick succession toward the front door and it was pulled open briskly. Firm jaw was loosened and dropped when he saw the nightmare in front of his home.

“What the **** is that?” He stood there staring at this Hello Kitty roller skate and the preening woman in the driver’s seat.

Dominique: Dominique stretched over the passenger seat a little more. She held on to the dash and slightly lifted up as if she could help him move faster if she did this. Why was he looking like he saw things he probably would never forget.

“What the **** is... what?” HOPE pressed of the seatbelt that was holding her down and finally moved her petite body across the center of the car and leaned back and pulled down the seat to give more storage space. “Don’t be shy. Toss the goods in and hop in.”

When no movement was made she paused then looked up at him. So he was also having issues with the ride. The gas mileage alone on it was worth every penny. The fact she drove enough coke to snow most of Harper Rock in it to the supplier she hooked up without getting caught was another selling point. The only thing that sucked about it was if she took the neighborhood streets in Cedar Court. The kids there chased the car around waiting for it to drop candy or clowns to come rolling out. It didn’t matter now though. They had to be somewhere or miss out on the chinese take-out.

“It’s a car, Vic.” She sighed. HOPE wiggled at the fingertips for him to move his sweet *** closer and get in. “C’mon. It’s my shop car. Dropped off a customer Porsche a while back. The mustang went to the heavens. So this is where it is at. You can sink down if needed so you won’t be seen.”

Victor: He refused. Simply ******* refused. Would he even fit inside that little toy car? It was the size of one of his boots. “No, Dominique. I’m not getting into something that looks like a Japanese girl’s dildo. There’s no way in hell.”

Not even waiting for a response he had turned on the heel of his boot and walked back toward the house and the garage connected to the side. Keys were extracted from his pocket, see that..lucky catch, and he hit the button on the automatic door opener. It took but a moment and the street light by the corner was lighting up the silhouette of his recently repainted gloss black ‘69 Chevy. This was his new pride and joy. He’d taken his time on the engine to make sure everything was connected properly. His baby was supercharged with 320 horsepower. **** the skate out front.

Hopping in, he shoved the key into the ignition. They didn’t have time to play games with that Hello Kitty ****. “Get in the truck, Dom!” Phone was pulled once more to glance at the address sent to him for the meeting point. Cigarette was shoved between his lips and lit while he watched her begrudgingly pull herself from the car. Car?! Ugh..what was she thinking? They’d know exactly who they were. Triad or not..little girls in anime condoms don’t ride around in that part of town.

Dominique: Victor had his good points. She had seen several. So he had seen a few of those dildos. Her face deadpanned as she scanned the interior of what she was sitting in. Her bottom slid back into the driver's seat and she flipped her big dark eyes to the rear view mirror to catch the undeniable beauty of a wicked Chevy finally appear. So, the skate was not cutting it this time.

Actually there was a lot of smart cars in that part of town but she would save that topic for when they came across the parade of such when they crossed into Redwood. She leaned back and pulled the single Kevlar black bag roughly between the tight space separating the seats and nearly took out the windshield with the force as everything went where LESS was tugging it. She opened the driver's door and stumbled out then tugged again.

“It works for what it is meant for.” The bag was tossed in and she hopped up landing in the passenger seat. “You would be surprised how well it blends in and goes under the radar.”

It was whatever. She wasn’t going to delay them arriving as expected because she wanted to argue over it. There was the triads to take care of. After that there was a party. Dildos. She really was curious now just what the hell he saw that looked like her smart car. It didn't sound entirely comfortable if it was really a thing.

Dominique walked along with Victor’s long stride until it came to the point where they would be parting company for a bit. The black cell in her pocket appeared briefly to send out a text to Ven. Next word he got from her would be revealing that she succeeded at clearing the doors for him to make his visit.

Going in to roll out the red carpet. Soon as it is clear will send word.

There were no earbuds plugging up her ears yet the sounds of Drowning Pool’s “Feel like I do” accompanied her as she moved towards the building. The scent of blood cooling quickly was stronger with every step closer to the entrance. The sources were in plain view. Two bodies down on the ground clinging to the frozen ground like a party went into extra innings and they gave up. Bleeding bodies was a bigger mess waiting to happen. HOPE and LESS curled at the tips of her fingers and took each by the collars and gave each a toss into the covers of darkness out of view.

She stepped in close to the wall of the building and watched the movement of two triads moving around by the front door. The small visual was enough for her to wait until both were pulled apart to move on in different directions. Her dark eyes looked up and found the first of a few recognizable alarms. Tracking where the route was she figured this was the one thing she could easily take care of. The blade at her side served its purpose disabling the system clean and quick.

The door was against her back as she opened it just enough to slip inside. Voices echoed in the distance and she sank back in the east corner as footsteps returned.

“I will grab you one if there is any left.” The young triad cleared his throat and tossed a magazine on the nearest flat surface he passed. “Lazy mother fuckers always acting like I am their…”

Dominique was like the cool air moving across the males spine sending a chill of awareness just when it was too late to do anything about it. The sharp drag of the blade across the front of his throat was in sync with HOPE’s tight pull at the top of his slicked back jet black mop on the top of his head. The vibrant permanent ink on her hand came to view and she knew she was sucked out of the veil of her concealing shadows. The lifeless body was in motion meeting the wall of a close corner that left the blood to follow behind in a beautiful crimson trail.

“You are ******* dead.” The words came with the sound of a shaking hand digging quickly at a pocket.

In a burst of speed the color of healthy but heavily inked flesh and black hair the shadow became a blur. She stopped when the barrel of her gun was fixed so snug against the side of his head that any movement he was making wisely stopped.

“You have no idea, slick.” The sound of her hand getting ready to commence with the business at hand was a few sharp clicks of ominous warning. “And now you are.”

The sound of the bullet sinking into the skull was about as beautiful as the music in her head. The kick of the gun was perfect timing to shake her out of the moment. Footsteps were approaching once again. The squeak of the heels on the boots dragging behind her as she moved the body next to the other followed her as she dumped the warm carcass on top of the other. Welcoming the shadows once again to wrap her in their safe embrace, she moved into the next dark corner. Conveniently she was next to the half-*** station responsible for the security system that was supposed to support the needs of the triads within against the likes of those outside waiting to walk in. Imagine that.

“Well, what do we have here?” She eyes it for a few seconds while her hand tapped out the all clear for Ven and crew to make their grand entry. In less than thirty seconds what likely took a couple hours to put together by amateurs was fried and useless.

Security systems disabled, front is clear.

Once the text was sent she pocketed the cell phone and made easy work of disabling that last of the security monitors in the building that were not theirs. Now that she was finished with that project she went on to the role of watching and waiting for the party to get started.

"******* **** sucking **** swilling dick mongering..." The curses were not particularly creative, though they were abundant, which meant Jameson was in the midst of tinkering with another of his devices. To the objective onlooker, once the product was completed, it might have seemed as if Jameson was a master in the art of crafting little gadgets and mechanical items which had diverse ranges of usefulness. To the equally objective onlooker, while Jameson was in the process of making said devices, one might assume he hadn't a ******* clue what he was doing. The truth was, as it usually is, somewhere between the two. His training was a hodge podge of techniques he'd picked up from the interwebs, know how passed on by his father, and a lot of painstaking trial (and mostly) error. None the less, he was slowly getting better, and Lady Luck seemed to throw in with him more lately than she ever had in the past.

Except for when it came to Jameson's newest project. He was trying to rig together a degrading pulse bomb which could be fixed to an electrical circuit or grid and then used to briefly kill the power to a given area. Cutting wires was simpler, but it raised immediate alarm. The perfect crime was one which nobody knew about. Of course, when you were dealing with taking high value items, someone always found out. The next best thing was to commit a crime which was not obvious until much later. Only problem was Jameson was a little bit dodgy on the whole issue of wiring. A hand lifted so he could drop another lens over his goggles. The things had been designed by combining the concept for standard protective goggles and watchmaker glasses. He could manually adjust the zoom to see different levels of mechanization and intricacy.

The new view did nothing for him and he nearly threw the things across the room when he heard the buzzing of his phone on the table beside him. He lifted it, and suddenly a large 'M' was the only thing he could see. Tugging the goggles off, he saw he'd gotten a text with directions from Wilson. Then another text rolled in from 'Boss V'. Alright, so he had a place to go and the orders to get there. He was on his feet a moment later, slipping away from the pillow he normally sat on when working on a project on his squat crafting bench. He'd worry about it later. There was *** to be kicked. Or. Well. Something action-film sounding, like that. Jameson wasn't used to running towards violence. On the contrary, he normally dropped whatever he was doing and ran the other way as fast as he could. He wasn't a coward, he told himself, he was just a survivor.

He slid on his hoodie, the plain black one, and then his cuts. The MC was his family now, and people went out of their comfort zone for family. He didn't begrudge it in the slightest. In fact, he was looking forward to going in there, guns blazing, barrels smoking, heads rolling. At least, that's how he figured it would go. And he was small enough that he could duck behind someone and shoot around them if need be. Not that he'd admit as much out loud, of course. But just watch him strut about afterward, that was for sure.

He was on his bike shortly after. The place was close enough to the Handle Bar, he didn't need to program it into his phone's GPS. He'd probably been by the building a half a dozen times. By the time he got there, Ven was already there and the guards at the very entrance were dead, with blood splattered on the wall behind them. Jameson wasn't an expert at using guns, but he knew a sniper job when he saw it, and so he glanced around, searching for who might have done it. Before he could confirm, he heard a commotion coming from inside. Kamikaze was at the entrance with he and Ven, which meant there had to be some people on the inside.

A text confirmed this. Dom was in there at least, and the way had been cleared for them. Jameson wasted no time in getting off the bike, his own gun and knife concealed. He reflected, after another moment, that he probably should have brought more weaponry, but he was used to trying to get in and get out without being seen. Any damage he did was minimal. Oh well, he'd have to roll with it. He had some other tricks up his sleeve if need be. So he pushed his way into the building. The front end security had been wiped by Dominique (who still needed a nickname. Maybe Bombshell?). But the fight was far from over. Normally a boss had at least a few body guards to make sure they didn't get taken out. Since the start of the underworld war, the scramble for power between rival gangs, that security had vastly improved.

The result was almost comedic. No sooner did Jameson begin to make his way towards the back of the building where there was a door presumably leading to the big boss man in Redwood, than previously that self-same door opened. The rogue stopped in his tracks as if to say 'what is this ****?'. And that was when bodies began to file out The gangsters looked like they had raided a swat car. Heavily armed. Heavily armored. Well. For street thugs. **** inded. If the plot to pit the Lionelli against the Triads was to work, there couldn't be any witnesses. And there were dozens of them filtering into the room.

It wasn't so much an assassination job as about to be a ******* battle. Jameson's eyes bugged. A gun was lifted and a bullet slammed right through his head. Literally through. The round went through him like he was a ghost, and it was at that moment it became obvious the thing was a decoy, and the real Jameson was running back outside, shouting. "There's a bunch of 'em! Someone toss me a bigger gun!"

Inside of the building, from behind a wall of bodies, and observing through bullet proof mesh was Huang Bingwen sat and watched, and waited. In front of him, on the desk, was a military grade rocket launcher, probably stolen from a transport to or from either the Quarantine Zone or the Mausoleum. Insurance policy, he would have called it. He'd known since different factions had begun snapping up territories that there would be a fight of some kind at his doorstep. Nobody had ever accused him of not being prepared.