Marko lost sight of her. He just saw the Tabby-Cat stroking Susan not Susan, and before that she was comparing claws with the wolf-girl. Now he couldn't see her. Was the Bad Voice blocking him? No, that made too much sense; it was too easy.

...look to the exit...

Sure enough, there was Tabby-Cat, striding casually past the stage to the EXIT; a quick glance and Marko saw that Imalia caught that, too. By his estimation, the Cleopatra most likely assumed Tabetha decided the scene was lame, and she probably agreed. As he struggled through the crowd to pursue the Tremere, he made a mental note that Imalia consulted her phone. That would be something he would have to review later; for now he would store that little factoid in his memory. It might be relevant to some other matter that he was as yet unaware of. Although, he had discovered that it seemed everything was related somehow. It was like they were all living in some kind of horror story mini-series; all of their fates or destinies determined by some kind of author, and each of their lives being revealed chapter by chapter...

...who said they're not?

Marko gave his head a shake. There was no time for that nonsense now. Clearly his imagination was getting away from him again. Wasn't it? Yes, of course it was. There was no author; there were no readers. None of that could be real; how could there be two realities? There couldn't be. Could there? Surely not; the only way any of that rubbish could make sense was if he himself was a work of fiction, and that notion was beyond insane. If Marko was certain of just one thing, it was his own reality; he was real, even if nobody else was. He was also fairly certain he wasn't the author- except maybe of his own destiny, and even that was up for debate.

By the time he finally got to the EXIT and into the rear parking lot of the Pit, Tabby-Cat was well on her way. He just saw the Wizard mobile turn out of the alley and onto the Main drag. This was bad, but not all was lost yet. He had an idea that she was off to find the vampire mirror; most likely to put it into deep storage somewhere so that nobody could ever put it to use again. She might even ship it off to her Seven within the Seven so they could figure out how to make use of it. Now it was just a matter of getting to it before she did. On that front, he had the advantage; he knew exactly where he left it, and she still had to find it. Two nights ago, he thought the Network was warning him about the girl with the sword, but he figured out later they meant Tabby-Cat. That was the problem with the Network; it was never wrong, but sometimes things got interpreted wrong. In some ways, the Network was like a Malkavian version of a real-time Bible; always right in itself, but often misinterpreted to disastrous ends. That was, of course, making the bold jump that the Bible was real and that the Network was real, and that any of what was happening was real.

Marko let out a frustrated cry; he hated when his noodle insisted on going on squiggles like this. This one was even more maddening than the Plan. Unless, of course, this was all part of the Plan...

A crashing noise behind him pulled him from his thoughts. He whirled around to see who was there. All he saw was some hobo rummaging in a nearby dumpster. It appeared like he was trying to find a way to climb the fire escape to get into an upstairs window that was left open. Perhaps he should go back in and tell X that someone was trying to break in. The problem was that if he did, then Tabby-Cat would get too much of a head start. She may not know where the mirror was, but she was sharp, and there was always a chance she'd be a good enough kitty to sniff out her treats. Instead, he sprinted around the building and out onto the street. Waving his arms, he hailed a cab and got in.

"Where to?" a richly deep, dark voice asked him.

"Take me to the Asylum." Marko replied, trying desperately to not recognize that voice.

"Very well." The Driver acknowledged him. There was no denying it; Mark Oxford knew whose cab he just got into.

This was the Dark Driver.

The trip started off in silence. Marko was wary of speaking; dark things came out of the Dark Drivers' mouth when He spoke. At the moment, Marko had a suspicion about Him; if those suspicions were even close to truth, then there was a chance that the Driver did more than drive a cab. He might be driving the story. If the Dark Driver drove the story, then wasn't He the one who drove reality? If He was the one who controlled reality, did that make him the Author? Maybe the Dark Driver was the only thing that's real anymore; maybe all of everything else was just in his mind.

Finally He broke the silence. "You seem lost in thought. Perhaps you would like to share your troubles?" The Dark Driver offered.

"Are...are you talking to me?" Marko asked, stammering.

The Dark Driver chuckled. "Is there anyone else in this cab?"

"You tell me." Marko replied.

"What do you think, child of Malkav?" He retorted. "What do your senses tell you?"

Suddenly, Marko took notice that the Network was completely silent- or almost completely. He could hear – or rather feel – the Network whimper timidly as if in sheer terror. This kind of thing made Marko nervous; he always found it difficult to think clearly when the voices fell silent. Not that he blamed them; the Dark Driver was one scary dude.

"Honestly, I don't know." Marko said, trying his best to sound casual. "Right now I'm not even sure if I'm really here. I'm not even sure if any of this is anything but a figment of someone else's imagination. Or, maybe all of this is just a dream; maybe your dream for all I know."

"Perception is reality, child. You think it is, and it is." The Driver assured him.

"That's just the problem!" Marko exclaimed. "I don't know what I think!"

"Then I can assure you, Kindred," He said, "you and I are the only ones in this cab right now. Now you are at a crossroads; you have a choice to make. Do you wish to continue as you were, or to give up and remain at the mercy of others?"

"But what does that mean? What difference does anything make if nothing is really real? If none of this is real, then how can there be any consequences whatever choice anybody makes?"

"Life, or unlife, is determined by our decisions; it is what we make it. No destiny is ever set in stone." He advised. "The question that must be answered now is which path will you choose to take?"

Marko had to give this as much thought as he could manage. He knew he should probably go to Asylum and retrieve the mirror before Tabby-Cat could find it, but he couldn't help but wonder if there was any point; if Tabby-Cat is meant to have it, she'll get it. Obviously the Driver thought otherwise; or wanted him to believe that was the case at any rate. That by itself was almost motivation enough to go back to the Pit and watch the show. If the Driver was merely making sure Marko played his proper role, then maybe he could foil the whole thing...

...which would change the plot forever and likely make things a lot worse than they already were.

"I'll go on to the Asylum." He said finally. "I have to pick something up there."

"Very well; I will take you there." The Driver said. The rest of the trip was silence. Nobody, not even the worry-wart in the Network, said a single word.

Once at the Club owned by the Janus 'sisters', retrieving the vampire mirror was simple enough; he just walked through the relatively quiet club and towards the elevator, got into said elevator, and took it up to the second floor waiting room which would lead to the suite that Jeanette shared with...well, herself, really, but that was an entirely academic and currently irrelevant topic. In the waiting room, there was a large mirror mounted on the wall. It was some time ago that Marko noticed the mirror could be pushed and that there was a hole in the wall behind it. He gently pushed the big mirror- it now had a crack in it – and reached carefully into the hole. There he found a small item wrapped in cloth; the very item he came for. Now that it was in his possession, it was theoretically safe from Tabby-Cat; or more accurately the Bad Voice that lived inside Tabby-Cat.

"You're not half the liar you think you are, Therese. What are you not telling me?"

Apparently Therese and Jeanette were having another one of their notoriously famous quarrels. Marko had an idea what it was about. Jeanette originally wanted to go see the Naked Fire at the Pit, but Therese had absolutely forbid it.

"There's nothing to tell, Jeanette." Therese had replied. "I simply do not want my impressionable little sister falling in with a band of Anarch smut merchants. Lord knows you've filthied yourself up on your own; the last thing you need is help from the likes of Russell Norton."

"Oh-ho-oh, that's the pause able line, isn't dear sister?" Jeanette retorted. "Lets we forget the dirty duckling you keep in the bath. You two are up to something."

"You're being ridiculous, Jeanette." Therese replied, her voice dripping with contempt. "Of course Cameron and I are in frequent communication; he's my Seneschal and makes himself available at all times." She sighed in resignation. "If you really must know, Cameron was concerned that a violent element might be encouraged at that show, and suggested it would be a bad idea for you to go."

It's true enough...

That was a bit of a comfort; Dirty Duckling seems to want to keep both the sisters alive; probably because he is aware the twins share a body. It was also a mixed comfort that the Network was back online. His thinking started clear almost right away, but it came to him that maybe the author was hiding in the Network. If there was an author, of course he was in the Network; he'd be everywhere.

Giving his head a shake, Marko decided he'd heard enough. He headed for the elevator as Janus continued to fight her selves.

...go home...

That made sense; if Tabby-Cat wasn't here looking for the mirror, then she would have to be at his apartment. Now seemed as good as any to end this thing with the Bad Voice; it was time to head home and deal with Tabby-Cat and her new master.