[DFM]

Very short update, this time! I'll caption the rest of the screenshots sometime within the next few days, but as for now we've just got a lot of plot and a lot of talking. Next update will also have some more plot and some more talking, but also will have some actually playing of the game! Also I thought about just coming out and saying "HELEN'S ACTIN' THIS WAY BECAUSE X' but I'm just going to stick with keeping it in the story THE WONDERFUL ENGROSSING STORY YOU ARE ALL READING CAN'T WAIT FOR MY PULITZER.




Alright. You blew it. Grout's dead, Nines is involved somehow and your current success rate is going on one for three. Apparently wholesale slaughter is the only thing I'm any good at.



It feels more like a mausoleum now than an entrance.



"Hey there, Missy!" He sniffs the air around him. "Woo! Smells like someone burnt the burgers, eh? Hey you got some, ah-" He points to the round red stain where the gibberling's knife went through. "-bit of ketchup on ya there, Missy."

"Thanks, Chunk. I'll clean it up later. LaCroix still want to see me?"

"Oh, yeah he said to go right on up. Mmm. You know all of a sudden I want one of them Burger World Blasters. Get some mayonnaise, some extra cheese, bacon..."



He's still listing off burger additives by the time I've left the main entry, none of them vegetables.



My tomb creeps open expectantly.



Alright. Game face.



LaCroix doesn't notice me immediately, and when he finally looks up from his desk, he seems surprised to see me.



"Well now." It isn't icy, exactly, but it's certainly a cold. "This is certainly unexpected. I haven't heard from Grout and yet... you've returned. I assume you have a good reason for disobeying a direct order and coming to me with your task still unfulfilled."

I cross my hands behind my back. Game voice.

"It is not unfulfilled. My assignment was to determine the nature of Alastair Grout's disappearance and I have done so. He was murdered while he slept, possibly tortured first, although I doubt he slept through that part."

LaCroix looks at me like I told him the Washington Monument was really an ICBM.

"What? The... Grout's dead?"

"I would have studied the scene more closely, but I was attacked by a man who called himself Grunfeld Bach. The mansion was destroyed in the fight, although I have no reason to believe Bach himself perished in the encounter."

LaCroix seems to relax, puzzle pieces connecting in his head. His tone changes from astonished to slightly annoyed.

"Bach. Every time I think he's lost the scent..." LaCroix sighs, resting his head on his hands and furrowing his brow. "So. Bach killed Grout to draw me out into the open. As if he'd fare better than his father."

I relax slightly. He isn't ordering my head chopped off yet.

"Why would he want to draw you out?"



"Bach is a hunter, as was his father before him and his grandfather before that. When Bach's father found out I killed his father he swore an oath on his family name to hunt me down and destroy me, never mind the fact that I killed his father in self defense in my own home. Typical kine. When Bach's father proved to be no more effective a hunter than his forbearer, Bach Junior here took up the stake. I fear I shall not be rid of them until I wipe out their entire family line."

He pauses a moment, but continues after some consideration.

"Still, to kill a primogen this Bach must be alarmingly more skilled than I'd anticipated from his lineage." LaCroix looks up and almost smiles, finding the concept genuinely amusing. "He might even prove a genuine threat. How extraordinary."

He took that much better than I'd thought. Hopefully that won't change when he loses Bach as an identifiable enemy.

"Actually, Grout was dead before Bach arrived. I showed up long before the hunter and Grout was dead when I arrived, so I don't think Bach could have had a great deal to do with it."



"What?" Now he's annoyed again, like I'm talking in riddles or Malkavian word salad. "Then what happened? Are you telling me a primogen is dead and we don't even know how?"

"The only lead I have is seeing Nines leaving the mansion just as-"

"Nines." I can't quite place the tone of his voice.

"Yes, he was there when Grout was kil-"

"Are you telling me Nines. Rodriguez. is responsible for Grout's murder? Do you-"

I shake my head. "He didn't kill Grout, that much I know. He was involved somehow, but I have no idea-"

LaCroix slams his hands on the desk, standing up and leaning into my face.



"Being even tangentially involved with the demise of a primogen is a death sentence! Do you have any idea what this means?" He's talking fast now, his voice is rising and it's the closest I've heard him come to yelling. "If I actually carry out my function as Prince and sentence Rodriguez to death, the Anarchs will take it as a declaration of war."

"Wouldn't that be good? I think you have a better chance of simply taking the city than trying to win the Anarchs over."

LaCroix laughs, an exasperated, astounded laugh. He begins talking faster and louder until by the end he's talking so fast it's obvious he doesn't need to stop for breath.

"Apparently you aren't familiar with the history of this city. My predecessor waged a bloody military campaign to keep Los Angeles from falling under Anarch control in the first place. When I took this position I was given his ashes in an urn. We barely have a foothold in LA anymore, our numbers are hardly adequate to maintain basic order, we are losing Kindred every day and now the Sabbat are pooling their resources for a major offensive against god know what, the Kuei-Jin are pouring off boats like rats and the godforsaken primogen are at each other's throats." He's actually shouting know, strands of his impeccably tidy hair hanging over his desperate face. "I cannot afford to fight a GROUND WAR with the Anarchs!"

He rears up behind his desk, clutching his hands into fists.



"If I do nothing the Anarchs will take it as a green light to start murdering primogen left and right, the primogen themselves will rightly turn against me, and in the infighting we'll no longer be able to offer even basic protection to the Kindred of this city and our meager support will disappear along with it."

"Then... that sounds like exactly what the Anarchs want. Maybe that's why Nines-"

"Rodriguez and his lackeys have little more to gain from a war than we do. They would push us out of LA but it would weaken them and when they smell the blood in the water, the Sabbat and the Kuei-Jin will fall on them like a bulldozer." He's starting to calm down now, his pace of language slowing down. "Nines may be overly zealous and not above murder, but he's not suicidal."

"Then who the hell would want a war?"

"Whoever wants both sides to lose."

LaCroix sits back down, furrowing his brow and concentrating. I take it as a cue and use the seat across the desk.

"So... why don't we just tell everyone what's going on? We could all probably reason out-"

"Because ploy or not a primogen is still dead and the others are going to turn into a lynch mob when they find out. They will pin the blame on Mr. Rodriguez and having me babble vaguely about authenticity is going to do nothing but fall on deaf ears. I will need proof, solid proof, of Rodriguez's... lack of guilt. Most simply, I will need the killer."

"What do we have to go on?"

"Nothing. Yet. That is why I need your help in wrapping up at least one disaster while I pry my agents for any information that may help us on the matter of Grout's murder."

I re-adjust the collar of my shirt.

"Is vampirism always this exciting?"



"Fortunately, no." He sorts through some of the papers on his desk, finally and almost subconsciously smoothing his hair back into place. "I've come to a decision on the Ankaran Sarcophagus. I believe the simplest way to be rid of this headache would be to have a trusted professional, Beckett comes to mind seeing how he's apparently in town, open the sarcophagus and confirm that whatever long-looted corpse is inside does not belong to an antediluvian."

"Wouldn't having the world not die a soon as you open it be enough to convince people?"

"Kindred are as superstitious now as they were in their former lives, I doubt even Beckett pointing at a dust-filled coffin would convince some of them the world wasn't ending."

The gorilla behind LaCroix grunts, flexing his wrist. I wasn't sure he could move.

"Alright, fair enough. What's the plan?"

He lifts up some of the papers, glancing over them quickly.

"Until Beckett can be found and convinced to aid us, the Sarcophagus itself must be brought here. I believe despite their nature, a few Kindred may be pacified simply by having the bloody thing under Camarilla protection. There's a vault at the bottom of the tower we can use to store it until it can be debunked as thoroughly as we are able."

"Sounds well enough. What do you need me to do?"

"Seeing as how you're becoming quite indispensable to me, out of all my available personnel, I'm going to entrust the actual retrieval of the sarcophagus to you. It will be delivered to the Museum of Natural History sometime tomorrow morning. When night comes around again, I want you there." He pulls a key ring out of his desk drawer and hands it to me. "Here are the keys to the front door of the museum. The sarcophagus should be in an examination room of some sort by then. There's a small security staff on site, but I don't want a massacre. Mortals are just as easy to deceive as they are to kill."

I take the keys and nod, standing.

"Before I go, there's... well, frankly I'm in need of some money..."

"Oh, yes of course. Here." He hands me a wad of hundreds over the desk. "I can't have one of my representatives running around wearing attire befitting a cut-rate funeral parlor. Invest it well."

I take the money and wave as I leave, but he's already sorting through his papers.



At least he's not stingy with cash.