Post by Skarr on May 8, 2005 18:23:12 GMT -8
Samson stood on the balcony of his apartment, overlooking University Village. He took a drag from his cigarette, leaned on the railing, and growled low in his throat.
The Brujah were going to pay for this.
Not all the Brujah, he amended silently with a sigh; Rozlynn probably had nothing to do with it. It wasn't her kind of thing. Same for (what was his name? Oh yeah...) Matty and Hideo. Samson's eyes darkened as he thought of who were the most likely culprits.
Henrietta.
Jean-Lionel.
Fucking aristocratic Brujah. But what do you expect from the fucking French, he amended.
Fucking frogs.
It had troubled him ever since he'd heard about the alliance between the Brujah higher-ups and the Ventrue. Since their attack against the Giovanni's territory had been met by joint resistance by the Gios and the Gangrel, apparently they were trying a new tactic. If Samson got his way, bourgeois vitae was going to spill for this, be it Rabble or Blue Blood, he didn't care.
His frown deepened as he stubbed out the butt and pulled another one from his jacket, lighting it with a cheap plastic green bic. There had to be more to this; it couldn't be just about Scion...
Or could it?
Samson's eyes went wide as his jaw dropped, the cigarette sticking to his bottom lip as he broke out in a cold blood-sweat.
He recalled Scion's statement, "I called her a liar. Twice." Samson hadn't been present for the conversations he'd been referring to, but an image leapt into his head of the night Hideo was kidnapped.
Henrietta turned on her heel, giving Scion a dirty glare as she stomped past...
Later that same night... the first graffitti had appeared.
He recalled Scion's strange disappearance and reappearance at the Court Meeting the next week, the abruptness of it, as if Scion had seen or sensed something that everyone else had missed. Samson stroked his chin thoughtfully.
Did you notice something about Henrietta, Scion? Some kind of signal, or -what's that Poker term- tell? Is that why you took off like that? Did you suspect this from the beginning...?
And then he'd returned to the court meeting, bearing photographs of the artist in action. No wonder Henrietta was gunning for him so badly!
Samson's lip curled into a snarl as his fingers dug into the knotted wooden railing. He dragged off the cigarette again, reaching for his cell phone.
So, the Brujah bitch wants to fuck with the Gangrel, eh? Henrietta's going to learn just how rough the Gangrel like it...
The Brujah were going to pay for this.
Not all the Brujah, he amended silently with a sigh; Rozlynn probably had nothing to do with it. It wasn't her kind of thing. Same for (what was his name? Oh yeah...) Matty and Hideo. Samson's eyes darkened as he thought of who were the most likely culprits.
Henrietta.
Jean-Lionel.
Fucking aristocratic Brujah. But what do you expect from the fucking French, he amended.
Fucking frogs.
It had troubled him ever since he'd heard about the alliance between the Brujah higher-ups and the Ventrue. Since their attack against the Giovanni's territory had been met by joint resistance by the Gios and the Gangrel, apparently they were trying a new tactic. If Samson got his way, bourgeois vitae was going to spill for this, be it Rabble or Blue Blood, he didn't care.
His frown deepened as he stubbed out the butt and pulled another one from his jacket, lighting it with a cheap plastic green bic. There had to be more to this; it couldn't be just about Scion...
Or could it?
Samson's eyes went wide as his jaw dropped, the cigarette sticking to his bottom lip as he broke out in a cold blood-sweat.
He recalled Scion's statement, "I called her a liar. Twice." Samson hadn't been present for the conversations he'd been referring to, but an image leapt into his head of the night Hideo was kidnapped.
Henrietta turned on her heel, giving Scion a dirty glare as she stomped past...
Later that same night... the first graffitti had appeared.
He recalled Scion's strange disappearance and reappearance at the Court Meeting the next week, the abruptness of it, as if Scion had seen or sensed something that everyone else had missed. Samson stroked his chin thoughtfully.
Did you notice something about Henrietta, Scion? Some kind of signal, or -what's that Poker term- tell? Is that why you took off like that? Did you suspect this from the beginning...?
And then he'd returned to the court meeting, bearing photographs of the artist in action. No wonder Henrietta was gunning for him so badly!
Samson's lip curled into a snarl as his fingers dug into the knotted wooden railing. He dragged off the cigarette again, reaching for his cell phone.
So, the Brujah bitch wants to fuck with the Gangrel, eh? Henrietta's going to learn just how rough the Gangrel like it...
