I finally met our local “betters” tonight and I must say I’m not impressed. A loudmouth oik called Eddie Dixby and a learing maroon called Victor Cadiz. The first would be flipping burgers or shining my shoes if he wasn’t Embraced and the second I recognized from a totally humdrum daytime TV soap I saw on my last holiday in Ibiza. Apparently, Dixby is the Speaker in this city – good grief but that’s depressing. He’s an utter chump with no respect for the Traditions – in London he‘d be exposed as an Anarch in two jiffies. Telling us we haven’t been properly Accounted yet but then asking who is boss and telling us all kinds of stuff that basically assumes we’ve passed Accounting. Then he answers my Domain door without even asking leave and actually threatens me with a Blood Hunt when I bring him up gently on his appalling lack of manners. The nerve of the man! Let’s hope he knows no-one in London or my Dignitas will take a huge step backward. I’ll need to account with him one day, somehow.
Still, they gave us a cellphone to contact the Syndicate, which is what passes for Praxis in this benighted city, and told us to go see the Nos. So like good little neonates off we went – although Victoria headed off on her own to see what she could dig up about the Big Bads from her European contacts. Nice lass, very well put together mentally. If she wasn’t so arty she could be a Ventrue.
Any old how, we picked up the merc at the office and I got time to finalise matters with Edgar.
(N.B. Shell company for Albrecht will be Rosy Cross Medical Research Ltd. Incorporated in the British Virgin Islands, office address to be P.O. number in Rosslyn, Scotland (Near the cloned sheep place). Edgar has $100k as initial funds for website, stationary and to establish proper cut-outs and records. Al, Edgar and I as directors – I’m CEO, Edgar is CFO and Al as Chief Researcher. All kinds of useful as conduit and might even turn an actual profit if Al knows his stuff.
P.S. Edgar‘s getting awfully nosy. Remember to ask Sire about ghouling him.)
Once out in Brooklyn by way of Al‘s haven (interesting place), the Nos lair turned out to be beneath an old fire station which is now a museum. Paranoid buggers – the place is a fortress of the Maginot Line kind. I’m very glad Al was along, otherwise I think they’d have eaten me. Disgusting, but doubtless usefully well informed and actually quite nice in the same way some of the working hands on the estate could be quite nice in their own uncultured and obscene ways. Couldn’t let them see my worry, of course. Stiff Upper Lip and all that guff.
Al and I met some senior Nos, called Twit and Kumquat or some such self-parodying guff, and got an inside line on what they want. A real Cam leader and an Elysium Event. (N.B. Carnegie Center?) Well, despite my doubts there’s such a leader in the pack of Anarch rejects I suspect the current leadership comprises, we agreed and managed to extract a promise the Nos would turn out en masse to defend any such Elysium led by a “real leader”. That’s a start.
Next steps: we’ve an appointment to see the Ventrue Primogen, Vinnie – who definitely isn’t the leader either – and another to be properly Accounted at last. Plus I really must pay a visit to Eveline tomorrow eve and get the car upholstery cleaned after the grunge from the Nos Pit got all over it.
(N.B. Down to 2 suits – call tailor and have him UPS another from London, get Edgar to pick up 2 more pairs of footwear – one usual and one utility boots)