The following takes place during chapter 12 and 13

Bertram

"Good work, girl." Bertram said to Imalia. From the sound of her Hollywood report, it sounded like the Toreador whore just provided another option to consider throwing support behind if Therese proved too unstable or screwed things up too badly. Sure, she agreed to support the Malkavian for now, and Therese went ahead and swore to appoint Velvet as Keeper of Elysium; though it appeared that Therese Vooreman missed a step in this danse macabre. She assumed that VV must have some dirt or something on the Bruja Den Mother, and that was how Damsel would be handled as far as any chance of raising opposition was concerned. In reality, Miss Velvet Velour worked the scene as only a Toreador ever could; she was on good terms with all the key players, and set herself up to be the real puppeteer.

"I hate that self-righteous skanky bitch," Imalia murmured, "but I gotta admit, she put her people skills to good use for once."

"I agree." Bertram replied. It was true; the way the new Baroness of Hollywood played the cards she was dealt was admirable. It seemed nobody really saw it coming, and by now it's doubtful anyone will much mind. That was, except for Therese; and the best part of that was that she couldn't do much about it. Without Hollywood, Santa Monica would not be able to take Praxis at all. With Velvet sending her boy toy to smooth talk Damsel into being Sheriff the majority of Court supports the Keeper. In effect, Therese is Prince in name only. Hell, it could be argued LA is a Camarilla Domain in name only. How Imalia managed to plant a spy camera in VV's private room was a mystery to Bertram, but in the end it didn't matter. "What else have you got for me?"

"Ajax says Cammie is playing ball with Therese." Imalia reported. "He's stepping back from the Praxis run and going in as a running mate. That Malkie freak agreed to appoint him Seneschal in exchange for his support."

"And the secrets we indulged him?"

"Newbie is playing the mutually assured destruction card there."

That was good. The fact the fledgling Ventrue was using the information meant he understood there would have to some form reciprocity. What made matters even better was that just before Imalia showed up, Knox came through for him, too. His news wasn't so good, but knowing it meant it could be dealt with. It appeared that Knox just so happened to be within earshot to catch that the Tremere fledgling knew more about the political climate than she should. Knox also pointed out that her powers seemed to have jumped forward exponentially over the last few nights; something wasn't right with that. Bertram instructed his ghoul to track down Ajax to look into it; he and the Tremere clearly had a certain level of respect for each other, so he should be able to get close without too much trouble.

All n all, things were looking up.

Therese

"I know you're upset, Janette," she said to her twin sister who was standing in the mirror behind her, fists clenched and pressed tightly on her hips. Her painted lips formed a pout that she had mastered when they both small children, long before mother died and father started treating Therese as a wife. Therese resumed applying her own make-up. Her first item that night was to make certain the Gangrel knew her place; not much need to look her best, but it was still business. "I know Mr. Rodriguez was your friend, but he was also a necessary sacrifice if I...if we are advance in this city. Don't worry, though. I won't hold it against you for trying to help keep him alive; in fact I appreciate your soft heart now. It will serve us both well when hard decisions need to be made."

Janette was silent. Finally she a coughing noise and turned away, her pigtails swishing almost violently as she did so. She sulked over to her own side of the room.

Therese finished her preparations by placing her trademark spectacles on for the sake of affectation. She knew full well that she no longer required them, but they served a purpose other than making sure nobody confused her with her twin; they were a useful tool in upholding the Masquerade. Even in the event of a breach, the last person any hunter would look for was somebody wearing glasses. Ready for her night out, Therese stood, told Janette to have a good night and left the room.

Beckett

Fortunately enough, a strange fog had developed around the former Giovanni stronghold of Los Angeles, which his sources told him was now the primary base of operations for the Followers of Set. This unusual weather pattern was really most helpful, Beckett found. Despite the fact the stronghold was well guarded, none of the sentries could distinguish the natural fog from his mist form, and none were auspicious enough to take note that a patch of the 'fog' was gradually advancing towards one of the rear entrances. The fog was just thick enough to serve as camouflage as he, still as mist, slipped under the entrance he chose and into the mansion's cellar.

It had been at least a decade since he last visited this city, back when it was under the control of that rather excitable young Ventrue who had briefly managed to capture the Ankaran Sarcophagus. An interesting piece, actually. There was quite the scare with it, too. Beckett was mildly amused to discover the 'big threat' it represented was nothing more than a devilishly clever trap set by Smiling Jack. Now it seemed yet another box had washed up on the shore of the City of Angels; most likely yet another desiccated corpse and nothing more, but apparently the Followers believed they had uncovered their leader. It was just too big of a possibility to pass up. He simply had to came back and find out for certain.

To avoid detection, Beckett spread himself as thin as he could and proceeded to explore the lower levels of the mansion until finally he found where the alleged Sarcophagus of Sutekh was being kept. Once he was certain he was alone in the chamber, he returned to his original form. The chamber was set up in accordance to the usual Setite parameters to hold the body of highly revered figure, minus the serpent infestation of the room, of course. On closer examination, he could also discern it was set to serve a double purpose; it was meant to be a temple sanctuary of some sort; perhaps for a specific ritual.

Deciding that part didn't matter much to him right now, Beckett turned his attention to the coffin itself. It didn't take long at all for him to discover once again that this trip to Los Angeles was fraught with disappointment. Though very well constructed, the Sarcophagus was clearly a forgery. Beckett had no idea what such an item be for, nor did he much care; it was a regrettable waste of his time and energy. He really should have bypassed this journey and made straight for the network of caverns in the Oregon gorge. There, rumor had it, was hidden some ancient manuscript that has eluded Kindred scholars for centuries.

Someone was approaching. Beckett revered to mist and spread thin just in time to avoid detection as a petite, attractive woman with raven black hair entered the chamber. She gazed carefully around the room with her green eyes as if to make sure she was alone. Briefly she scrutinized the mist that had developed on the floor, and then grinned ever so slightly.

"Well," she said out loud, as if talking to him. "This was once a Giovanni house. There are probably still some corpses under it. You, mist, must be gasses escaping the bodies and filtering through the floorboards." And then she shrugged as if it didn't matter.

Next she hunkered down close to the casket, paying it no mind in favor of the slab it was placed on. Originally Beckett took it to be a solid slab of granite with hieroglyphics carved into it, but evidently he was mistaken. The woman, presumably a Follower with some mid-level rank, grabbed one of engravings and pulled a section out like a drawer. She reached in and produced a clay jar. Opening the jar, she looked inside it and nodded before closing it again and setting it aside. She closed the section up, walked to the other end of the casket and repeated this process, but this time she bit her wrist and let a good portion of her vitae pour into the jar before closing everything up. She then took both jars, obfuscated, and left.

Interesting, but once again not terribly relevant, as far as Beckett could discern; since the casket turned out to be a forgery, he saw no further reason to be in this rather droll abode. While he left the way he came in, it occurred to Beckett that when he was last here, there were a number of fledglings that certainly proved entertaining. One in particular came to mind. He decided, since he was here anyway, he might as well see if any of those seven had survived their first decade of unlife; that one especially might be worthwhile to offer a new prospect. The caverns in Oregon were quite vast, after all; he might be able to use her help to excavate them.