Ultimate New York By Night

Buchanan's Journal #4

“If you can dream - and not make dreams your master”

What a difference a day can make – or in this case 48 hours. Although I still think we’re being led by the nose by others instead of leading.

We’d been told to stay together and stay near the phone, which we did for a tense two days. Then finally Victor Cadiz called and summoned us over to the Rose’s Haven. When we got there the place was crawling with security – kine security at that – in slick suits, shades and earpieces. Feeling like extras in a Matrix knock-off, we headed inside only to be informed that one of Cristophe’s favorites, Milan, was missing and that the Nos were the favorites as kidnappers.

Now, since we need her Old Man on our side to smooth the path for an Elysium at Carnegie hall, this wasn’t good news. Nor was Cristophe’s foaming at the mouth and readying for war with the Fugly Clan. Still, I talked him out of having us snatch a Nos as revenge and into having a sit-down meeting with their representative to see if the feud between their Clans could be resolved in a more civilized fashion. At that point, we left and went back to my Haven to regroup and ready for talking to the Nosferatu.

(Seems that feud traces back to his predecessor, Veronica, who was a right Thatcher and no mistake. Seems she had a Nos “put down” as Cris so indelicately put it. A Nos who had been his girl Eleven’s lover and thought he’d be a Rose until Veronica started playing the usual back-stabbing games that keeps our Kindred in the dark ages while the kine go to the Moon. My word, what a sorry bunch we are.)

Next thing we knew, we’d been summoned to the Faustian Syndicate with a hurry-up-and-pronto. When we got there it was to find still more heavy kine security – in sharper suits and with even more heavily armored SUVs. The reason for their presence soon became apparent as Victor introduced us to none other than bloody Jaffar himself, the very Grand Vizier to George Senior’sAladdin and current Sabbat prince of New York!

I thought we were “properly f-ked, Tommy” but no – old Jaffar ups and congratulates us on helping preserve the peace and tells us that I have been given the title of “Special Arbiter for Sectarian Diplomacy for New York City”. Apparently the Syndicate thought that mouthful up. Meandering, magical, multi-minded morons.

Still, a title with both Prince’s names behind it – so of we jolly well trot back to the Nos warren and relate the glad tidings to their liaison Twat. He was pretty sarcastic at first, calling me out for abandoning my integrity and doing a deal with the Sabbat. But I explained that Jaffar’s involvement was Cadiz’ doing rather than mine and he agreed to the meeting, while denying that his Clan had Milan.

So…I decided to “risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss” and offered the Nos a new deal: back my play when it came and if I rose high enough I’d make sure they were given a new Elder position: Elder of the Underground. It would only be acknowledging what everyone already knows, after all – but people, being people, do like the obvious of their accomplishments acknowledged. He didn’t quite agree – but then he didn’t utterly disagree either.

Which leaves us on the proverbial cusp, waiting for this parlay to take place in the back storage area at one of SpYttE’s gigs in a couple of nights. Darwin’s beard, I hope it goes well. And I’m hoping against hope that the daft lass Milan went off on a shopping spree or something and will wander back unharmed on her own, because while if she turns up the meeting still has to happen on the orders of the two Princes, if she turns up dead I’ve a feeling everything will go to hell in a hand basket.



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