People in Glass Houses....

Russell pulled his car to a halt in the driveway of the Malocusian's mansion. Every time he visited his patron's sanctum, he couldn't help but remember The Fall of the House of Usher, and the mansion as a reflection of the Malocusian's twisted soul was literal as well as metaphorical. The Regent wasn't a fan of technology except when it suited him, so he insisted that most reports come to him face to face. He removed the pistol and knife he carried, leaving them in the car. Not only could carrying them be construed as a sign of disrespect, but locked inside the Malocusian's true domain, he doubted they'd be any use to him even if the worst occurred.

However he carried out his task as instructed, delivering the regent's message and refraining from striking the smug bitch in the process, so he didn't believe he had much to worry about as far as this meeting was concerned. At least no more than usual, anyway.

He proceeded up the walk and knocked respectfully at the door.

The Malocusian's doorman, a craggy no-neck from the old country, build like a brick wall, ushers you in without a word. Stepping through into the sprawling main hall is a lot like being swallowed alive, the way the very décor seem to pulse with a haughty, predatory malevolence. Given the Malocusian's strange abilities, this could be literal.

"The Sir is in his chambers." The brute rumbles. Through the dining room, where the proxy slumbers in a chair, flanked by a doting physician. Your Beast jolts as you notice the proxy's bodyguard, Fauntleroy Brown, a barrel-chested savage stuffed into a tailored suit. The guardian doesn't look up from his Blackberry as he waves you towards heavy doors which open of their own accord.

Through the only open door, you see Malocuse himself, at a desk, scribing something into a bound book. He looks quite unlike the proxy, except for the blunt, slavic features. He's dressed in an archaic jacket and waistcoat combination, with fastening golden links crossing his narrow torso. He looks far from healthy, with the cracked lips and the crowsfeet below eyes clouded either by time or syphilis. He doesn't look up from his book. He can be looking at anything and know of every single happening beneath his roof.

Russell nodded an acknowledgment to the doorman and Fauntleroy Brown as he passed through the Malocusian's home. The doorman merited no more attention, he was as much part of the furniture as anything else in the mansion. He had no qualms with Brown, though that was a job he didn't envy. Spending more than a few moments in the proxy's presence, particularly when it wasn't currently inhabited by the Malocusian was a disconcerting experience. He was glad not to have to constantly minister to the wretch like the attendant physician or Brown.

He proceeded into the Malocusian's study through the doors that no one had physically opened. He noted his patron writing at his desk, and was idly curious what the aged vampire was working at. He wasn't stupid enough to bother asking however, instead simply casting his eyes downward. He'd been invited in and the Malocusian would address him when he was ready to receive Russell's report. He could respect the elder's quiet labors for several moments until then.

You steal a peak at the Malocusian's writings, but it's all for naught. The writings are in Cyrillic.

As he writes, you hear creaking floorboards. Even in your dead flesh, you feel the shifting temperature and the thickening air quite acutely. Minutes pass, and finally the book is clasped together. The Elder looks up at you, gesturing to a small seat positioned in front of his desk.

"Stone, how went De Coya's childe?"

Russell repressed a shudder, feeling the house shift around him. It was an acute reminder that for the Malocusian's apparent frailty, he could make every square inch bend to his will.

He took the offered seat before the Malocusian's desk. "I delivered your message as instructed. De Coya's childe was arrogant. I doubt she cared for my interrupting her dinner party. But she asserted that the loss of her residency was no matter, and that she had numerous friends and other places to sleep instead. Dismissive of the entire situation."

The Malocusian's clouded eyes take on a glass-like cast as he rests an elbow upon the desk. He peers over at you, speaking with a conspiratorial edge to his thick accent.

"Indeed? How unfortunate for Marquis De Coya. Did the whelp reveal her allies, Stone? Or indeed, where she intends to 'sleep'?"

A thin lipped smile forms on the Malocusian's face.

"How unfortunate for Mr McGill."

Your patron leans back, locking eyes with you.

"We are not done with De Coya's prodigal daughter. I would like to see Mr McGill's star fall, Stone. I don't wish it to be pleasant. Do you understand me?"

"These are cruel climes," the Malocuse affirmed. You feel the temperature drop sharply. "Be sure to twist the blade."

The Elder glances down at his book and pauses before speaking.

"If that is all, I understand that Brown has made the acquaintance of an entity I wish to do business with. Please speak with him on your way out."

Russell smiled at the Malocusian's instruction to twist the blade. Always. "It will be done" he replied.

He turned and left the earl's chambers, heading back towards the front and his fellow Invictus employee.

Brown sits next to the Malocusian proxy at a large oak dining table. The physician is gone, though what's left of the proxy's last meal sits before the sleeping invalid. The lights in this place are kept low so as not to excite the Earl's shell, though Brown is illuminated by his blackberry, cutting a broad, rugged, if bored figure.

Brown secretes the device into his suit and nods in your direction. "Evenin'" he offers by way of greeting. "Earl keeping you busy?" You feel threats from his beast radiate through you, though the sentry appears composed as ever.

"Good evening" Russell acknowledged. "Yes he is," he replied in response to the Gangrel's question. "Fortunately I enjoy my work. He told me to ask you about some business he's interested in arranging?"

"Just a lead that landed in my lap." He pauses to grimace as the Malocuse Proxy shoots an involuntary gobbet of fluid down the table. "You hear about the Carth cell that got ran out of Springwells a couple weeks ago?"

"Dusted one, staked another. And I dunno whether they got her talking the hard way or if Cully knows someone with the sight, don't care either, but the Carth coughed up the name of a supplier."

The Proxy's eyes open, and he gazes around the room, eyes settling on you. Brown continues, oblivious.

"Arms, papers... the way I heard it this guy can get you a dirty bomb for the right price. Cully passed it along upstairs by way of kickback. The Earl wants to get the measure of the guy."

"Kiril Silvashko." Brown struggles with the pronunciation. "I never heard of him either. Lemme forward you what I've got"

Brown taps at his Blackberry. Seconds later you feel your phone vibrate.

"He's one of you. A Haunt."

The proxy continues to stare sleepily as the temperature rises slightly.

Spoiler:

2010-07-24 04:28:40 Russell rolled 6 dice to "Resolve + Composure" 6,1,3,3,10,6,2 (1 successes)

Russell kept the mild irritation off his face at Brown's clan epithet. He needed no reminder of his lineage, even if he felt no connection to it. But the Malocusian mansion was about the last place in the world he should reflect poorly on his heritage in. He pushed the thought aside.

"Silvashko, eh? Should make for an interesting meeting. Care to come along?"

"Anything to get out of this house," Brown mutters.

You notice the Proxy's eyes become a little less vacant as they jerk towards Brown and a slight smile plays across its mouth.

The proxy's behavior didn't escape Russell's notice. Truth be told, he was almost expecting it. Nothing escaped the Lord's notice in his home. Fauntleroy might need to mind his tongue a bit more while he was in the mansion.

"I'll drive," he volunteered.

"You wanna go now? Sure. Lemme just get the Doctor."

Brown gets up, making his way to the door while the Proxy's eyes following him.

"What're you driving nowadays?"