Chapter 1. Session 1.

The phone rang. John picked up his mobile phone and looked at the number. Work incoming. “Good evening, David.”, he said. “How can I help you?” “I have another job for you and your friends,” David replied, “but I can't give any details over the phone. Just keep an eye on your front door, ok?” And with that, he just hung up. This is quite unusual. Must be something delicate, he's never been this discrete on the phone before.

About fifteen minutes later, the doorbel rang. As John opened the door, he saw a UPS guy there with a package. After signing for it, he went inside and opened it. What a thing of beauty! Inside the box was one of the most beautiful flowers John had ever seen. Vanilla white and deep purple meshed together into a butterfly shape, seemingly ready to take off. Why would he send me an orchid? Underneath the flower was an envelope. The note inside had only two lines on it.

Central Station. Box 815.

The first person he phoned was Mather Marshall. Mather had had a succesfull music carreer, and nowadays usually could be found playing in some of New York's finest lounges. He seemed to fit in there quite naturally. “Meet me at the entrance of Central Station in half an hour.” Mather needed no further explanation and hung up the phone.

John Voighter picked up his phone as well. “Hello John O.,” he said. “Hello John V.,” our private investigator replied, - When will this joke get old? - “meet up at the Central Station entrance in half an hour.” “I'll be there,” was the short answer.

Last guy in the group was Gabriel Ash. “Our employer has left a message for us,” John said. “What's it about?” Gabriel replied. “Dunno just yet, he's left it somewhere in Central Station.,” John said. “I'll meet up with you there,” was the short reply.

Central Station

John O. waited for everyone to arrive before showing them the note that was sent by David Morgan. “Let's go check it out,” Gabriel said quickly, “I'll 'take a look' at the box.” He put his right hand on box 815 and seemed to be concentrating. “A woman has last touched this box,” he said. “She's quite pretty, but I haven't seen her before. She put an envelope inside.”

The box needed to be opened. There was no key inside the box John O. had received, but in his long time working as a private investigator, no lock as simple as this one had ever held him back. He ran over to the shops and bought a pair of tweezers and a needle and got to work. There was indeed an envelope inside. The note in it said:

“I don't trust phones anymore. For the more 'delicate' assignements, we'll work this way from now on. I'm sure you'll agree with me.” As if we had any choice in the matter. “There's a club at 5th and Madison called 'Back to the 80s'. Their clientel consists mostly of tourists, and the club's doing so-so. Last night, something odd happened. There was a fight between a guy and three tourists, and the lone guy kicked the hell out of the tourists. This might not seem very strange to you, but the guy seemed to be unnaturally strong as he had literally picked someone up and thrown him over the counter. This guy – short black hair and sporting a goatee – needs to be 'investigated', and I expect you guys to deal with it.”

Some words raced through John's mind. Sabbat infiltrator? Thin blood gone wild? Rogue fledging? Powerful ghoul? Could be any of them. Suddenly, he noticed a woman staring at them. Discretely, he asked Gabriel if she resembled the woman putting the note in the box. “That's not her,” Gabriel replied. As she got closer, she seemed to be looking at Mather more intently. Must be a fan.

“So what's the battle plan?” John V. Asked. “I suggest we go to this club and see what we can find out,” Mather said. “My car is parked nearby.”

Back to the 80s:

The club was close to the Empire State Building. There were quite a few hotels nearby, and the area was packed with tourist the whole year round. The Waldorf Astoria, Hilton and Ritz Carlton were all at walking distance, and a host of less know (and less expensive) hotels littered the area.

'Back to the 80s' was supposed to be one of the novelty clubs of New York. At least, that's what the owner must have had in mind when he started the place. Not that business was bad, but the club somehow didn't live up to its expextations. The bouncer let them in, and the first thing they noticed was all the neon lighting scattered across the walls. The deejay even sported an 80s hairdo, and a Donna Summer song was playing. The club could entertain about 300 people and was about 1/3 full on this sunday evening.

Gabriel 'scanned' around and didn't notice much besides the fact that the staff wasn't as motivated as it should be, something that was quite obvious for just about everyone. Then his eyes fell on a pretty woman, and he immediately knew her for what she was: a fellow Kindred. He let the rest of the group know of his discovery just as a waitress asked what we wanted to drink. We quickly ordered a round of scotch, and when she came back, Marshall started a conversation with her.

“So how's business been lately?” he asked her casually. “We' re doing ok, “she replied, “but things have been busier if I'm honest. Mostly tourists come over here, with the hotels being closeby.” “You don't seem to like tourists”, Marshall said, “have they bothered you in any way lately?” “There was a fight yesterday,” she said “between this ordinary looking guy and three Spanish speaking fellows.” “I feel sorry for the guy,” Marshall said. “No, that's what was weird about it,” the woman replied, “he kicked the hell out of them!” “All three of them?” Marshall asked. “Yup,” she said, “he even threw one of them over the counter from quite a distance as well. Funny, he didn't look that strong when I first laid eyes on him.” “That is odd,” Marshall noticed. “He must have been on drugs,” the waitress said, “I've seen what PCP can do to ordinary looking people.” “He must have been, “ Marshall replied.

Meanwhile, Gabriel headed towards the woman he had noticed earlier on. The moment he came near her, she recognized him for what he was. “How's the evening going?” Gabriel asked. The woman looked at him and said “Still looking for a drink. How about yourself?” “I'm here with a couple of friends because something out of the ordinary happened here last night. Some 'guy' apparantly kicked the hell out of three tourists while displaying enormous strength, and he ran off right after it. You didn't happen to be here yesterday, did you?” “This is my first night here,” the woman answered, “and I know nothing of what happened here last night.” She seemed to suddenly recognize who she was dealing with. “So you're part of an investigatory team, are you?” “Indeed I am,” Gabriel said, “so if there is anything you want to let us know, please don't hesitate. “I'd like very much to help you and your 'friends' out,” the woman said, “but I'm afraid I don't know anything of what went down here.” “What brings you here?” Gabriel asked. The woman answered, “Well, I came to New York because there is lots of opportunities here for me to work myself upwards in society. I'm quite an ambitious woman, and I feel I'm in the right place at the right time to make a name for myself.” “I understand,” was Gabriel's reply. “I'll see you around then.” “Good luck,” the woman said, and she turned away.

The Kindred woman started chatting to a German tourist, she seemed to know how to attract young gentlemen.

John V. decided to ask the bar's manager about last night's incident. The manager seemed reluctant at first to hand out any information, but after John O. showed him his private investigator license, he opened up about what had happened. “It was three guys, Spanish speaking, I think they did actually come from Spain – or somewhere else in Europe. They were wearing stylish clothes, designer label, and drinking champagne. From what I was able to see, it was them who started the fight.” He seemed not sure about what to say next. “The fight was over in a heartbeat. This fellow kicked the hell out of them Spanish guys, even threw one across the bar. It's gonna cost quite a bit to have that fixed again.” “What happened to the guy who won the fight?” John V. Asked. “Well, he ran off right after it was done. Ran in the direction of Madison from what the bouncer told me.” “And what happened to the three Spanish guys?” John O. asked. “Well they were taken to hospital with an ambulance,” the manager replied. “Im not sure which one, took them quite some time to get here as well, leaving me with three wounded to deal with. Just like the damn police, showing up way too late as usual.”

The Kindred woman guided the German tourist outside, a small smile touching her lips as she glanced in Gabriel's direction.

Marshall didn't quite get the information he was looking for from the waitress and decided to phone his contact at the police force. After a bit of searching, the contact had some astonishing news. “Nothing. I can find nothing about the incident.” “But there has been a police unit at this bar,” Marshall said. “Indeed there has been,” his contact replied, “but there is nothing I can find about it in the police records.” Someone must have removed the information. Someone who is knowledgeable enough to do that. Possibly Kindred. “Is there any information about what hospital the wounded guys were taken to?” Marshall decided to ask his contact. “Again, nothing,” was the short reply.

“So the only thing we can still do is scout the local hospitals;” John O. said. “I suggest we start at the closest one and work our way outwards from there.”

As they went out, Gabriel noticed the German tourist finding his way back in, just a little paler than before.

Hospital
Marhall parked his car at the nearest hospital and they went inside. The woman at reception hadn't been working the night before, and she couldn't find anything in hospital records about three Spanish men being brought in after a fight. She did mention that one of the surgeons that was working tonight had been on duty the night before.

After a bit of waiting, the surgeon was able to meet them. They recognized one another immediately. About half a year ago, they had investigated something about thin bloods. This guy was a helping hand of Quadir Al'Asmai, the Kindred sheriff. “What can I help you with?” They quickly explained the situation, but the surgeon coulnd't quite help them. The only thing he remembered was that an ambulance had come back after a false alarm, and that ambulance had been driven by Mark and Jens. Both of them had their first night off in a week. “I can give you their phone numbers if you want,” the surgeon said.

John O. phoned Mark first. “I can't really help you. I haven't been near the bar you mentioned, and I sure as hell don't remember three Spanish speaking men being brought into my ambulance.” This is weird. Someone powerfull enough to erase memories maybe?

He phoned Jens next. “Yeah it's a funny name. My mum's German, and she likes the sound of it. Three Spanish guys you say? Can't help you there.” “Do you remember which ambulance you were driving?” John asked. “Of course: 24-11, as always;” Jens replied, “I've been driving it for four years now.” “Thanks,” John said.

Something very strange is going on. Thin bloods don't make police records disappear. Ghouls don't erase memories.

John O. 's private investigator badge turned out to be very usefull tonight. It granted them access to the hospital carpark where they quickly found ambulance 24-11.

Gabriel scannes the vehicle and shares his thoughts with the rest of the group. Three guys, southern looking, speaking Spanish step into this ambulance. Neon lights in the background, coming from the bar. Flash. The ambulance's sirene and blue lights are turned off. Flash. The ambulance stops. Flash. The ambulance starts again. Flash. Darkness all around, weird noises, seemingly distant. Flash. Nothing. Flash. The ambulance drives on, the back is empty.

The word popped in John's mind. Obtenebration. No one in New York was supposed to be able to do that. At least no one stuped enough to be drawn into a pub fight and leaving such a mess. Sabbat. I had hoped we were rid of them bastards.

John decided to phone David Morgan to give him an update about the situation. “A flower? I didn't send you a flower did I?” Is he on one of his personality switches again? “My phone log says I have called you last night, John, but I don't remember much more than that. Sabbat you say? I'm in the middle of something with Theo Bell here, I'm sure you guys can handle this. Bye.”

Chapter 1. Session 2.

Things have gotten very complicated, David Morgan didn’t recall sending us a flower and couldn’t give us more concrete information. He could have been on one of his personality switches but his voice sounded the same. As our only lead was the insight Gabriel had gained form the ambulance 24-11, we all got in the car with Mather driving. He is not only the most responsible driver of our group, he is only one who can drive.

Unfortunately Gabriel could only see what happened inside the ambulance, not what happened outside. The only thing we knew was that the ambulance had stopped at some traffic light and we knew the route the ambulance normally follows. After driving a while, we were able to pinpoint the possible location within 18 crossroads. Around two of these crossroads was a 7-Eleven and one had an Irish Pub.

There were no camera’s anywhere to be found so we had to check everything ourselves. It was already 20 past two, so we did have to speed things up before the night ends. John O. was, because of his Irish name, immediately attracted to this Irish Pub, called ‘The Green Leprechaun’. It was a quiet night, there were around 12-13 people drinking. At the bar was a typical blond beauty (not her natural hair colour), with clearly enlarged boobs.

“Anything interesting happens around here”, John O. asked, trying to break the ice. The ice however remained very thick. John O. tried again, “I heard yesterday something strange happened”. The waitress was clearly not charmed; she scoffed “What are you, the police? You come in here, asking questions and you haven’t even ordered anything.’”

Hearing that our only way to get useful some information from this joint, was to order something, John O. and John V. ordered a Guinness, Mather ordered a double scotch and Gabriel ordered a milk. “Milk, you want milk?”, the waitress asked. Gabriel just nodded. After she gave us our drinks and we paid them, John O. tried again. This time the ice was breaking (a bit). “I wasn’t here yesterday, but you can ask them.” The waitress pointed at three drunk Irishmen. “They were here last night, actually they are here almost every night.”

John V. stepped to the three Irishmen, and ordered drinks. Four Guinness were quickly brought. It could have worked, buying them a round, asking a few questions about last night. Unfortunately, he hadn’t fully adjusted to his new unlife. He had found memories of long beer nights and sometimes he forgets he couldn’t even drink a drop. When one of them said “Bottoms up”, John V. couldn’t follow without risking vomiting all over them. It went downhill very fast. The three Irishmen were already drunk and just looking for a fight.

John. V. tried to talk himself out of the situation, but to no avail. After dodging a few drunken blows, he tried to hit back. One of the Irishmen clenched his arm and was readying for the knock-out. The waitress said something about stopping but it was clear, this has happened before and she would just look the other way. With no choice left, he had to use dominate and yelled ‘Stop’. The bloke just froze, halfway during his swing, leaving his drunken colleagues and the waitress wondering what just happened here .

John. V. was able to talk him out of the situation, declaring “I can be very persuasive”. He left quietly, not wanting to risk another fight. Mather tried also to get anything out of them, but it was hopeless. We all left the bar, Mather had to get rid of the whiskey, he is the only one of us who can stomach food or drink (for a short time).

The next stop, was the closest 7-Eleven. John. O, being his witty self, said “How is it going, Apu?”. The clerk, who was clearly Italian, was not amused. “Was there anything?”, he scoffed. “Yes”, John O. replied, “for me a pack of cigarettes.”

“Which one?” “My favourite ones, Camel”, John O. answered. John O. asked some questions if he had seen anything strange happening last night. Again, the guy who had worked that night, wasn’t here and would be back the following morning. Not helpful, thus.

Hoping the last 7-Eleven would give us some useful information. Gabriel walked in, ordered a carton of milk and a newspaper. Just at the previous 7-Eleven, the convenience clerk was certainly not a motivated employee. He was here the last night, but from the questions “Did anything interesting happened here, an accident with an ambulance?”, Gabriel only got the following response “Ambulances drive here all the time, accidents happen all the time.”

Now it was half past three, we didn’t get any useful information and we had to check every crossroad manually for a clue. To save time, we split the party in two, making sure someone with heightened senses was in every group. After 10 crossroads of finding nothing, and John O. and Gabriel nearly run over by a speeding Corvette, Gabriel noticed someone standing in a side alley, just staring. It became very quickly clear that he was also a fellow Kindred. Gabriel tried to read his aura, but to no avail. Gabriel checked out the scene, he was gaping at some statue. Clearly a Toreador.

Gabriel asked “Do you always come to gape at this statue?” Reluctantly, he pulled his gaze away from the statue and said “No, sometimes I look around, and I just found this statue, it’s beautiful, isn’t it? It was difficult to see what was so beautiful about this statue, but everyone has a right to his own opinion (even if it seems odd). “Were you here yesterday?”, Gabriel asked. “No, I was at the Metropolitan, looking at an exhibition of Flemish painters.”

“So you weren’t here yesterday?”, this time the question came from Mather. Mather and John V. had just joined up again. The Toreador turned around and gave John O. and V. a wink and just said “Malkavian?”. Both Johns just shrugged their shoulders. Now it was already 4 o’clock, we did a few crossroads but found nothing. At around half past four, we called it a night, and went home.

The next night, half past eleven.

Gabriel, John. V and Mather have their own loving herds. A few kind words, a few hugs and a little drink of blood. John O. however must hunt, his hunt was quick and clean.

John. O called around, Mather picked us up. When everyone was together, it seemed John O. had called in a favour. A beautiful woman was with him, presented herself as Jennifer Leeds, the childe of Vincent Lear, who was in his turn childe of Matthew Forrest. Clearly she was a Ventrue, only they need so long introductions. John V. had red in the library of his chantry, that Vincent Lear was the prince of Antwerp. Jennifer was thus someone not to be trifled with.

With 6 crossroads to go, we had plenty of time, so we didn’t split the party. This time, we had more luck. Immediately at the next crossroad, we found a few drops of dried up blood. John V. tasted the blood, it was clearly human. Southern type, hint of alcohol. We found it.

We looked around, it was a respectable neighbourhood. Jennifer pointed to an apartment, 12 blocks high. “What a coincidence”, Mather stated, “look who’s coming”. It was our Toreador ‘friend’. We stepped to him, asking again if he seen anything and were he had been the last couple of  nights. “Like I already said”, he replied, “Last night, I was looking at a beautiful statue and the night before, I went to see an exquisite exhibition at the Metropolitan.”

“Why are you here, then?”, Gabriel asked. The Toreador said, “It is a beautiful neighbourhood, I look around for beautiful things to see.” “What about the statue?”, Marshall stated.  “Oh, I like to see different things, look around, the moon reflecting in the pond, the green leaves on trees, every night there is something beautiful to discover.”

The conversation went for some time. When we asked for his name, he introduced himself as, Jonathan Gurchell. We noticed that he had some Arabian characteristics, we also learned that he has a condo in the Bronx. However, we didn’t learn anything that benefited our search.

Jonathan went back to gaze at something he found beautiful when suddenly Mather spiked his emotions to an extreme . Jonathan was already fascinated, now he was just engulfed. When asked for his motives, Mather replied  “I did him a favour.” Must be Malkavian logic.

At the other side of the street, we saw three old hangars very close to each other. Not having enough time to check all the apartments, we went for the hangars. The lock on hangar one (the closest one) was very rusty. Gabriel touched the lock, it was clear that the lock hadn’t been opened by anyone in months. Hangar two then. The lock of hangar two was not so rusty but after Gabriel touched it, he saw that nobody had opened the lock in the last two nights.

Hanger three didn’t have a separate lock but the door was closed. After Gabriel touching the handle of the door, he glimpsed someone opening this very door during the last two nights. John O. didn’t have his lock picks with him, so Jennifer called someone to open the door. One guy came, opened the door revealing an empty hall with rusty machines, a few windows smashed in. It looked like a rundown hangar, a relic of better, more hopeful days.

The hangar had no protection against the hateful rays of the sun, so it couldn’t be a haven. However, the hangar had a large enough gate to hide an ambulance. Gabriel tried to get an image by touching the gate, but the images were useless. Fortunately, the tire tracks of an ambulance in the dust were still clear. So this is where our ambulance went. Jennifer called her contacts to see who owned this building. In the meanwhile, we inspected the hangar more in detail. There was a small office but everything was covered in spider webs. Very quickly, Jennifer announced that the hangar was owned by the Bank of America for eleven years. They had gotten ownership after the previous owner went bankrupt.

John V. walked outside of the hangar and tried to question Jonathan again. However he was still very much engulfed, thanks to Mather’s help. It was useless, his mind was somewhere else. It could even become dangerous for him, if he stays so engulfed, he wouldn’t even notice the sunrise until he was burned to a crisp. John V. walked back, just in time to hear Jennifer worryingly declaring that her personal ghoul hadn’t answered the phone. She had sent him to find out who had sent the orchid to John O. This wasn’t normal behaviour for him.

Jennifer did learn that the previous owner of this derelict hangar, was the Cordoba Import Corporation. This mob sounding corporation was owned in the time when the Sabbat ruled NY with an iron fist. Any more data would be sketchy at most. Gabriel had a hunch that someone was watching, laughing at us. John O. looked around for any wires, bugs. There was nothing to be found except rust. When asked if someone could make a spell to register everything said in this hangar, John V. answered that only a Kindred of extreme  power could make this work. We concluded that we would not learn anything more out of this hangar.

The group had a small discussion about what to do with Jonathan. Would we let him stand there, where he could be surprised by the sun, or lead him somewhere dark where he would be safe until the next night? As time was against us, we left him to his fate.

We had just left the hangar when Jennifer got a call. Her face grew even more pale and she said that the police just telephoned that she had to come immediately to Central Park, Madison Avenue. A close friend of here (who was in fact her personal ghoul) had just been brutally murdered. When we arrived at the crime scene, the police were all over it. The flower shop had been smashed, it was a very violent murder. Jennifer went to the senior captain and he was like a puppy, he was enthralled by Jennifer. She was almost radiant. John. V in the meantime tried to sample the blood (there was enough) but was halted by a CSI officer.

The ghoul was just that: a useful ghoul. Jennifer does not befriend underlings.

John V. tried to talk out of this but to no avail. So he mesmerized the CSI officer, now he could sample the blood without being noticed. He said:” There are blood of two ghouls, no Kindred, one of them has been a ghoul for over 30 years.” Gabriel touched the counter, and said that the Jennifer’s retainer was standing at this counter, going through the order list when he was surprised by another ghoul and after a short fight he was torn to pieces. His murderer was the person in the bar, who we have been looking for all along.

Before leaving, Gabriel looked in the order list and saw that the orchid had been delivered at a penthouse in a very classy neighbourhood where it had been sent to John O. The owner of the penthouse was a certain Katherine Weis. After a short drive, we saw the hotel ‘Hilton’ and she must be very rich to have a penthouse here. There was a bodyguard outside and inside and they meant business. Jennifer had called around and told us that Katherine Weis was a Brujah who six months ago moved to NY. In that short time, she had made quite a network of contacts and it was clear that she was a new, albeit powerful player on the field.

Sensing that a normal conversation would lead us nowhere, John V. simply dominated the bodyguard outdoor to let us in. When we entered, the second bodyguard asked who we were and what we were doing here. Normally every visitor of Weis must be cleared with him. We were able to bluff him, telling him that we were invited to a small party at her penthouse. Just before we entered the lift, the second bodyguard said: “It must be a fun party, just a minute ago, someone else went upstairs.” We had no choice to go upstairs and ready us for who (or whatever) was waiting for us.

The elevator doors opened and we finally found the culprit. A Lambrosa Kindred and his ghoul were waiting for us. In a flash, the Lambrosa summoned four shadow arms that went for us. Jennifer and Gabriel were pinned and slowly squished like a lemon. Mather was not the target for the arms, John O en V. however were, but were able to dodge them. The two arms flew over them in another room and were readying for another attack.

The fight then became very frantic. The Lambrosa was powerful enough, so there was no need for a powerful Ghoul in the fight. John V. shouted “Flee” at the ghoul and he had no choice, his will was broken and the only thing he could think off, was to get away as soon as possible. If the Lambrosa would live to see another night, the ghoul would be severely punished.

Meanwhile, Jennifer was able to break free and was frantically biting at the shadow arm. John V. pulled out his 44 Mangum and shot the Lambrosa. He tried to dodge the bullet, but was hit and fell on the ground. With an inhuman speed, he jumped back to his feet. Someone in the fight shouted: “Damn, just what we need, someone with Celerity”. The Lambrosa was now enraged, pulled out his sword and ran his sword right through his attacker. The sword really came out the other way.

He was injured, but he wasn’t down by a long shot. His ghoul had fled and was nowhere to be found. Jennifer had broken free and was tearing the arm apart. Mather was pounding on the Lambrosa but his attention was solely on the one who had dared to shoot and hit him. John O. shoots him again and hits, however the next swing of the Lambrosa was a hit. It was a hard hit too, John O. flew back across the hall. Now we just noticed how enormous this penthouse was, we have just been fighting in the hall.

Jennifer had torn apart the shadow arm which disappeared without leaving a trace of its short existence. Gabriel was still pinned by the arm and he was clearly hurting so John V. tries to help him to break free. Meanwhile, Jennifer, John O. and Mather were all hitting on the Lambrosa, further enraging him. His attacks were powerful, but not coordinated.

Gabriel finally breaks free with the help of John V. and with two attacking the arm, it would soon be dead.

When the Lambrosa fell down again, he tries to stand up but falls down again. His Celerity didn’t help him this time. John O. and Jennifer were now pumping bullets in him at point blank range until he didn’t move. Suddenly a veiled woman stepped out of the other room (one of the many), it was impossible to discern any recognizable features.  She, the so-called Katherine Weis, said with a quiet voice: “You did a fine job, you lot did rather well. I think you all can be useful in the future, we can have a mutual beneficial relationship.”

John O., who had suffered the brunt of the attack, shouted: “This was only a test?” Not stricken in the least, she calmly replied:” No, he had become a problem. Thanks for solving it. Now, please leave, I will clean this up.”

In the room she walked out of, we saw the chunky remains of the fleeing ghoul, she also had disposed of the two shadow arms as there was no trace to be found of them. Anyone who can do that, without any noise and breaking any sweet, is someone who we don’t want to anger. So we quietly left. Walking outside out of the hotel, Jennifer said: “I have a hunch that she is even more powerful then she let to be known. It couldn’t hurt to be associated with her”.

An ambulance drove by, picking us up. There was enough blood packs to heal us all up. Not every tasty, but enough to heal. Jennifer was the first to leave, but just before she said goodbye, she whispered the following to John O.: “Now we’re even, but that doesn’t mean we can’t work together in the future.” The ambulance drove us all to our homes.

John O. reported to David Morgan, saying that the culprit has been efficiently disposed of, but he mentioned nothing off Katherine Weis. This was an agreement we all made, nobody would say anything about her.

Now two weeks have passed. Nothing special has happened. Everyone was resting or honing their skills. John V. hopes to learn more about Thaumaturgy and was interested in buying a 44 Magnum and maybe even getting some shooting lessons. It is a cool weapon and it can be handy in a fight if you know how to shoot straight.

The others had their own interests, but it was clear that soon we would together for another assignment. Maybe an assignment from Katherine Weis, we don’t know. But when somebody as powerful as her, is interested in us, it can bode very well or very badly for us. We will see, only time will tell.