[center][url=https://imgbb.com/][img]https://image.ibb.co/kRiHzc/strom_sig.png[/img][/url][/center]
[hr]
[b]Los Angeles | Wilshire Blvd Offices[/b]

“Yep, it's a fake alright.” Lawrence Heston, the prematurely balding thirty-something human officer associated with the LAPD’s bomb division stated bluntly. “And a terrible one at that. Have you seen the flimsy plastic parts dangling off the trigger bracket.” He chuckled while pointing at the innards of the square metal device that was originally given to Nicolaus by the girl on the street. “Oh man, a child could have-"

The officer looked up in mid sentence and noticed the others unimpressed expression at bad humor.  “Is there anything you can tell me about [i]where[/i] the parts had come from?” The Ventrue asked, arms crossed as he stood over the table with small intricate pieces scattered about and a few tools laid out.

“Uh, yeah sure Mister Strom.” Lawrence cleared his throat and nervously adjusted his glasses. “At first I figured maybe it was ordered online, because you can order just about kind of shit on Amazon or Ebay from anywhere in the world. But then I cross-referenced the serial numbers found on a few of the copper and plastic hardware, and it all lead to a computer manufacturing company in Miami, Florida. So what, right?” The officer shrugged. “So I continuing digging around, crossing this info with that info, and [i]voila![/i], among the various retail electronic stores they cater to throughout the country, they’re also the exclusive vendor to LA’s own [b]Hotwired Electronics[/b], which was the very retail store where the source of the explosion happened.

Nicolaus thought for a moment. “Seems less like a turf dispute and more along the lines of destroying the competition. Literally.”

“Hey, he does have jokes.” The other chuckled, before continuing. “But yeah, in retrospect, that sounds plausible.”

Officer Heston was a good lad, probably one of the best when it came to his line of work within the LAPD’s Explosives Division, and being a retainer on the Camarilla’s payroll wasn’t a bad deal for him either. [i]Money is always wonderful motivator.[/i] As when dealing with most kine, however, they were given just enough information and evidence to lead things toward “human-based” criminal activity and away from the supernatural realm, and many of the recent Sabbat uprisings have most definitely been seen as nothing more than “gang violence” in the eyes of local law enforcement and the media. Of course it helped when kindred had their hands in every facet of the mainstream leftist media monster, essentially guaranteeing that people see what they want them to see. But as most Kindred were well aware, especially those more concerned with keeping the Masquerade as solidified as possible, the secret war being waged and the oncoming events leading up to much more devastating things weighed heavily each day. Nicolaus, over many decades has put aside the prideful outlook of his species and come to the realization that he is but a speck of dust in the grand scheme of things -a tool of enforcement to laws and traditions that were slowly tearing at the seams- but a speck nonetheless. Either way, he vowed until Final Death to eradicate the Sabbat inch-by-inch, yard-by-yard, until their ashes covered the earth itself, and were trampled underfoot by those who deserved to walk upon its surface once again.

“Thank you, Lawrence, for your help tonight.” Nicolaus put a hand on the other’s shoulder. “I know you sacrificed an evening with your family to be here, so do not think that gesture has gone unnoticed, my friend.”

The officer nodded as he stood from the desk chair, collecting the few tools and electronic sensors he’d used in his diagnostics, as well as folding up the laptop before replacing into his bag. “Well, if it helps to catch the bastards who did this then you know I’m all for it, sir.” He said, shaking the other’s hand, a bit caught off-guard once skin touched skin. “Geez, might want to turn the A/C off for awhile, your hands are cold.” 

Nicolaus forced a smirk as he relinquished his grip. “Perhaps.” 

“So, y’all have a good night.” He said, waving to the young redhead sitting behind the desk across the room who’d been typing furiously at the computer for almost an hour. She raised a hand and waved back without taking her eyes from the screen. “I’ll take that.” He said with a sheepish grin as he made his way out through the office doors.

“That guy creeps me out everytime he’s here.” Adriana, the girl behind the desk, said after a few moments. “Can’t figure out for the life of me why though…” She shrugged, picking up the travel mug next to her and knocking back the room-temperature blood that was already halfway empty. [i]“Mmm.”[/i] She allowed her tongue to savor the vitae as it ran down her throat like silk, before going back to whatever she was doing.

Nicolaus shook his head, never quite understanding the fledgling vampire that had been assigned the task of record-keeping for most of Nicolaus’ cases over the past six months. She was intelligent beyond her early twenty-something years, and while her personality borderlined on impulsive decisions and just plain quirkiness, Adriana’s investigative and research skills continued to impress Nicolaus all the more, making her [i]virtually[/i] indispensable. It took the Elder vampire some time to become adjusted to even having her in the same room, as their personalities were not always in agreement, but there was also those few aspects of the young girl that reminded him of his Elizabeth. 

“Well lucky for you he only comes around every few weeks.” The Ventrue said while sifting through a folder. “Although I imagine he would much rather deal with [i]you[/i] than me.” 

“Ugh, that’s not something you need to remind me.” She said with a sour expression. “Oh, by the way boss, you have box that was received by the day crew, although they left it in the warehouse.” She waved her hand lazily toward the back door that lead to the storage area. “Looks like some kind of wooden crate. I had ol’ Lawrence sniff around to make sure nothing was ticking, and it was clean.”

“I appreciate the consideration...” Nicolaus said in a low tone, only half listening, as he searched through an old file dated several years ago which listed three or four dozen different known Sabbat affiliations within . “I knew it.” He mumbled, running his finger down the list of entries until it landed on one which stuck out. Written in blue ink as an additional notation was the business name “Hotwired Electronics”, although it had been followed up with a question mark encased in parenthesis. The vampire closed his eyes for a moment and reached back, pulling certain memories as best he could from the night in question, the night he’d first encountered Sabbat presence within Los Angeles, and the alleged hive which was buried deep inside the slums of Skid Row. Amongst the homeless and broken; the refuge, and pestilence, was a dark stairway that lead down to the entrance. At that entrance was a steel door, marked up with filth and graffiti, and barricaded from the inside. Above that door, however was the housing of a security camera with the small silver nameplate of “Hotwired Electronics” riveted on the underside. Cross-referencing them with flashes of memories he’d managed to collect from Alex’s psyche, he searched through the chaotic patterns of the girl's thoughts as though he were swimming through heaps of trash.

“There you are.” He whispered to himself, as the image of the one he’d been looking for came into focus, even if for a moment. “Cyrus-”

Nicolaus was, to his displeasure, knocked from his trance-like state by a loud thump, as apparently Adriana had taken the liberty of -quite effortlessly- bringing the wooden mystery crate up to the front herself, and plopping it down onto her desk not five feet away.

“Sorry.” She said with a half smile. “I couldn't help myself.” 

The Ventrue stared at the other with eyes that could burn through a steel wall, until relaxing his visage and returning his attention to the files. “Go ahead then, open it up.”

“Oh good!” The redhead exclaimed in a rather giddy tone. “It's like Christmas all over again.”

With little resistance, she pried the top off of the crate, and pulled away the insulation to reveal a beautiful bottle of liquor and an accompanying glass, each looking very expensive in their own right. “Wow, someone must really want your attention.” She said, holding up the bottle to examine it. “A lady friend?” Adriana immediately let out a gasp when she picked up the business card. “Holy shit! Gallery Sixty-Six! I've heard of this place. It's new and supposedly [i]very[/i] chic.” She removed the cap on the bottle in her hand, and put her nose up to the mouth, inhaling the aroma with hints of honey and vitae. “Wow, so it looks like we might have a member of Kindred society flagging you down, boss. Or, at the very least, a ‘vampire groupie’.”

The Ventrue looked up from his work and walked across the aisle, scanning his eyes along the contents of the mahogany crate. “Well whoever it was that sent this has excellent taste in their liquor as well as the goblets.” He lifted the glass and held it eye level, examining its shape and curvature. 

“So, when do we leave?” The other asked, trying to stifle her otherwise excited tone, just before placing her lips against the bottle opening and tipping it back far enough to taste a spoonful, the liquor assaulting her supernatural senses, sending a bit of vibe up her spine. [i]“Oh my…”[/i] She whispered.

“Leave to where?” Nicolaus inquired just before the phone in his breast pocket chimed and vibrated, indicating an urgent email message was sent. He carefully placed the glass goblet back into the fitted indentation and slipped his phone out to check the message.

“Gallery 66 of course.” The other continued, wiping a bit of the liquid from the corner of her mouth, allowing her body to absorb the succulence. “Clearly this was an invite.”

Nicolaus narrowed his eyes as he first saw the email address of the sender, and then the brief but very obvious and required summons from the Baroness of Los Angeles. 

[i]Yanci Carolina. I can only imagine what you would need me for...[/i]

“Everything okay, boss?” Adriana asked while recapping the bottle and placing it on her desk. 

“Everything is fine.” He said after a few moments before replacing the phone in the breast pocket of his coat. “And it looks like, coincidentally, we'll be heading to Gallery 66.”