2026.02.27 Shock Troops and Sugar Daddies
| 2026.02.27 Shock Troops and Sugar Daddies | |
|---|---|
| With the Prince absent, members of the court held a discussion regarding the growing threats to their domain, focusing on the escalating hybrid activity and the emergence of the black-blooded drones. | |
| IC Date | 2026.02.27 |
| Players | Charai, Daniel, Heathen, Constance, Daphnne, Torgue, Amelie, Gaunt, Amos |
| Location | Emerald Plaza Elysium |
| Prp/Tp | Plot:Viral Vampire Video |
| Spheres | Vampire Camarilla |
The tap... tap... tap of Jonathan Gaunt's cane marked the cadence of his final steps as he finished descending the curved marble stairs, the sound crisp against the black-and-white geometry of the floor below. He paused just beyond the last step, letting the echoes settle as he looks to see who's gathered for this evening's court. Slowly, he makes his way over to his seat and glances to offer nods and bows to those who deserve such considerations as his cane taps into the tiles of the floor.
Amelie waits for more people to arrive, and then announces, "Bon Soir to one and all. The Imperator is unable to be here tonight, as is the Primogen of the Roses. But we shall endure and carry on. Does anyone have anything to announce this evening?"
Heathen tips his hat to Daniel when he sits
Constance does shake her head though she doesnt speak up. The Sister has nothing pressing for today. She does glance about then towards the others at the black chairs.
Gaunt remains seated for a moment after Amelie’s announcement, then slowly rises with the quiet support of his cane. His gaze drifts across the gathered court, unhurried and deliberate, pausing just long enough on each face to suggest invitation rather than scrutiny. One brow lifts faintly, not in challenge but in expectation, as though he were certain that someone, somewhere in the room, had something worth saying. He does not speak immediately; instead, he allows the silence to stretch just enough to become noticeable, his posture composed and patient, waiting to see who might choose to fill it.
Charai looks up at the chairs and gives a little shake of her head before turning her attrntion back to Torgue.
Torgue gives a small breath in response to the news of attendance.. or notable lacks thereof, before her ear perks as she's spoken to. She also opens her notebook to a fresh page and tugs her charcoal free from the book's spine.
Daphnne listens quietly at the black chairs before she glances to Gaunt.
Amos exchanges a few words at the chairs up front, then leans forward and gestures toward Torgue. "We concluded a bit of field work recently. In your own words, how would you sum that up?"
Daniel gives his couch mate an upnod in response and settles back to see if anyone has anything exciting to talk about. Him? He got nuthin'. Gaint gets a brief look in his direction
Torgue answers to the query from Amos, taking the gesture as indication to reply. "Hunting down some black-blooded drones, bringing to mind some horror films of living dead, chasing after another Kindred with a curiously poor taste in diet- I cannot imagine whatever led to such an awful smelling bleed was palatable, and recovering one device that queerly seems to have some function with those infected. As my key takeaways from the fieldwork." a small pause. "All in all, I am extremely curious to what leads will result."
Amos makes a face when Torgue mentions the smell. "No accounting for taste, I suppose. For some context, these 'drones' appear to be what happens when a hybrid abducts a random kine and feeds some of its blood to it. It's still unclear /why/ its creators are doing any of these things; anyone who has a theory, please feel free to share it."
Daohnne's attention shifts to Torgue as sge resoonds to Amos' question.
Charai says, “It feels like it is field testing, a biological weapon. Trotted out to see how well it does in the shadows spreading it's infection.”
Gaunt listens without interruption, fingers loosely folded over the head of his cane, before giving a single, thoughtful nod toward Charai. "I am inclined to agree," he says evenly. "One does not squander controlled vitae experimentation on random chaos. If these 'drones' are created through deliberate infection, then they are unlikely to be accidents. They resemble shock troops more than soldiers -- expendable, unstable, but useful." His pale gaze shifts briefly toward Amos, then back to the room at large.
"You release such things not to win a battle, but to observe one. To measure response times. To catalogue defensive patterns. To see who intervenes -- and how quickly." A slight pause follows. "If that is the case, then the true threat is not the drones themselves, but the mind taking notes from a safe distance."
Torgue gestures to Charai as she makes such an answer. "It's got eerily similar vibes to that one movie trilogy. Atleast the second in the set." another breath as Gaunt comments on more tactical concerns. "If these are merely shock troops, then I'm concerned on what their Officer caste is like."
Amelie shakes her head, "It's almost like the Blood plague, years ago, by the scientist from Seattle." For the few here that might recall it. "It is a threat to our blood supply, and the masquerade."
"I think you're mostly right," Amos replies to Gaunt, glancing around briefly at the others who spoke up. "Taking notes from what they /think/ is a safe distance. They've already pointed a number of arrows back at themselves, though."
Charai says, “If they wanted to shatter the masq they could have done it a dozen times over. It's like there studyiung who is doing the clean up.”
Gaunt's expression does not shift at the mention of the prior plague, but his eyes narrow slightly in thought. "If we are to treat this as a campaign rather than a coincidence," he begins evenly, "then the question becomes motive." His gaze moves across the court with deliberate calm. "Are there any enemies of this domain who would benefit from seeing it... preoccupied? Not through open assault, but by attrition. By forcing us to divide attention, resources, and trust."
The cane tilts subtly as he shifts his weight. "I remarked to members of my clan in Boston that each development in this situation has escalated with suspicious refinement. The so-called vampire video was a trivial provocation -- a test of reaction. Then came the black vans and surveillance teams, quietly gathering data. The hybrids followed, released one at a time. Now we see these black-blooded experiments." His voice remains measured. "That is not chaos. That is iteration. It suggests someone revising protocols, increasing intensity, and observing outcomes. The question is not merely who can create such things -- but who is patient enough to study us while doing so."
"We've got a general name and location, but that's just a starting point. There's a trade-off between us taking more time to learn who's sitting inside that outline, and us giving them more time to learn who's sitting inside ours."
Amos gestures toward Heathen next. "Say you knew that our enemy was named Green Bird, and they were headquartered in a specific building in Long Beach. What would be your first instinct to do about that?"
Heathen says, “Google search for as much as I could about both target and location, Google being used metaphorically for 'get info by whatever means I have.”
Amos nods. "And what would be your /second/ instinct?"
Amelie nods with Amos' words. A plan is needed, and going over ideas is a good idea.
Heathen says, “Mind control a trucker hauling airplane fuel and use him as an explosive wheeled missle.”
Gaunt goes very still at Heathen's suggestion. His eyes shift slowly from Heathen to Amos, then back again, one brow lifting just a fraction. The motion is not theatrical, but the pause that follows is deliberate. "That," he says at last, voice smooth and dry, "would certainly resolve the matter in a manner both decisive and... public."
His fingers adjust lightly on the head of his cane. "Though I suspect turning Long Beach into a crater might solve fewer problems than it creates. It would also remove any possibility of learning who was truly behind it. Ash and rubble are notoriously poor witnesses." His gaze lingers on Heathen a moment longer -- not mocking, not dismissive, but measuring -- before returning to Amos as if awaiting a more surgical line of thought.
You know that uncanny valley sensation when someone smiles, but it doesn't get past the lower half of their face? That's Amos right now. "Still, at least it's trying to address that trade-off, this time. Now the other factor in play is that 'truly behind it' part. This outfit doesn't appear to be working alone; someone else picked them out as a sugar baby within the past year or so. So ideally we want to not only make the sugar baby's extremely short life miserable, but get some intel on the sugar daddy as well."
Heathen looks toward Gaunt for a moment. "It was my instinct, but I am a creature of more than raw instinct. However, it'll take more than a name and location to come up with a better plan. Even the idea of how to .. contain.. a target for questioning is going to be dependant on other factors."
Amelie nods, "Knowledge is the power that we need. Although kamikaze truckers... well..."
Gaunt's gaze settles back on Heathen, and this time there is the faintest edge beneath his composure. "I confess," he says smoothly, "I had always been given to understand that the Lasombra prized subtlety. Manipulation. Control from the shadows rather than blunt spectacle." His head tilts slightly, the movement precise. "Perhaps I was misinformed."
Charai arches a brow and glances from Gaunt to Heathen then at last across the black chairs. She returns to her tablet and her attention back to Torgue.
Daphnne says, “I believe, should such ascenerio be considered thst the damage be the least smount possible, killing as few others as possible. Such as chosing an unsavory individual to simply be controlled to drive into their vehicle, home, or building and making certain the fuel tank of theur vehicle wouldexplode.”
Heathen leans back, crossing one legover the other, pantomiming a cigarette.
Amos squints at Daphnne. "Make it look like an accident, you mean?" he asks, looking and sounding uncertain. "Now they /are/ using some known corporate resources as well, so those are on the hit list. Maybe we can trade some favors and get the SEC to drown them in papercuts or something. Have to see how that goes."
The faintest sound escapes Gaunt before he can quite prevent it -- not laughter, precisely, but something dangerously close. It is immediately smothered beneath a deliberate double tap of his cane against the tiled floor, the sharp report echoing just enough to mask the lapse. He inclines his head slightly, expression restored to composure. "Death by regulatory oversight," he murmurs evenly. "There are worse fates than drowning in paperwork." His gaze steadies once more, the amusement gone as though it had never been.
Constance remains silent, leaning back in her chair as she listens to the room. She seems pensive.
Daphnne nods her head to Amos, "Yes, with alcohol in the unsavory mortal's system. And... I merely mention such if there was a reason to resort to such. One would think that all avenues of possibile things should be discussed. Heathen says, “So, is the goal elimination, or incarceration at this point?”
Gaunt starts to turn towards the exit and pauses only to glance back towards Heathen. "And... for some reason in your mind...it can not be both?" He considers the position for a moment and nods as if making a conclusion about something and turns to leave the chamber, "Very...very interesting..."
Amos inclines his head. "Both is good. The one thing we know about this group is that they're trying to figure out what to do with us. I'd like to convince them with ruthless efficiency that the correct answer is 'Don't'."
