White Wolf Publishing owns the "World of Darkness." My use is in no way meant to challenge their copyrights. This piece is not intended for any profit on the part of the writer, nor is it meant to detract from the commercial viability of the aforementioned copyright. Any similarity to any events or persons, either real or fictional, is coincidental and unintended.

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Wednesday, June 9, 2100 – 10:20 p.m.
"It is essential to seek out enemy agents who have come to conduct espionage against you and to bribe them to serve you. Give them instructions and care for them. Thus doubled agents are recruited and used." – Sun Tzu

"I don't know that this is quite what I had in mind when I said we should get together," Simone commented from the back of Joey's vintage Harley Davidson, screaming to be heard over the wind that – in the absence of a working speedometer – let them both know they were riding far faster than the posted speed limit.

"Let me guess – you'd rather see a museum," Joey yelled sarcastically. When Simone was conspicuously silent, he slowed the motorcycle to a stop and stared at her. "You weren't planning on going to a museum, were you?" he asked, sparing enough attention to flip off a driver that took umbrage at Joey's decision to hold this conversation in the middle of the road.

"Umm… no," Simone said hesitantly. "Well, not just a museum," she clarified. "I thought we could go to a museum first, and then maybe see a band I know that's playing at a club later."

"You do realize that it's almost 10:30, right?" Joey checked. "The museums are closed."

"The Wilmington Museum of Classical Arts is having a special show this week," Simone explained. "They're open until 2 a.m., tonight through Saturday, as a cultural alternative to the bar scene. And I think it's a great idea."

"Of course you do."

"My sire actually pushed for it," she added. There was something insufferably haughty in her expression, but the wild way her hair had settled after their short ride on the Harley – along with the spoiled pout on her lips – made Simone look cute in the strangest way. It made Joey far more willing to play her games and ask the question she clearly wanted to answer.

"Your sire? Who's he?"

"She," Simone corrected. "Alexandra Kelly." The Toreador uttered her sire's name with the proud air of one who expects the name to be recognized. Joey simply shrugged his shoulders, immediately receiving the stunned stare he expected. "You've never heard of Alexandra Kelly?" she asked incredulously.

"Should I have?"

"She's the Toreador primogen," Simone explained with a conceited, impatient tone that Joey had always felt only the Toreador could ever properly muster. "She's been in the city for over fifty years. In fact, only the prince is older than her."

"There's gotta be someone else older than fifty years," Joey replied skeptically.

"Alexandra is not just fifty," Simone retorted. "I only said she's been in the city for fifty years. She was actually embraced back in the twenties."

Joey stifled his initial reaction of shock before reminding himself that to a kindred as young as Simone, the twenties meant the 2020's, and not 1920's, as it did to him. "Wow, that is old," he agreed with a reverent nod of his head. "That's, like, old enough to remember before any of the wars started."

"Yeah, she was actually embraced just as the Sabbat Twenty Years War was starting," the Toreador explained, not telling Joey anything he could not have figured out on his own. "She's actually fought Sabbat."

"No way," Joey said, doing his best to sound impressed as he stifled a chuckle. "Not many around who can say that. They haven't been around for forty years."

"More like fifty," Simone corrected.

Actually, more like twenty-five, Joey thought silently, remembering a small pack he'd wiped out two decades earlier. The young Lasombra priest had claimed to be the descendant of the last bishop, and thus he felt entitled to rebuild the extinct vampire sect as the first bishop of the new regime. Joey had taken it upon himself to exterminate the upstart, all of his progeny, and any vampires he had known or who had known him. He was not going to allow any hunters the chance to figure out the kindred still existed, as they no doubt would very quickly if any vampires started living according to the high-profile tenets of the Sabbat. The one thought that plagued him ever since then was his certainty that the would-be Sabbat bishop he'd run into couldn't possibly be the only jackass with delusions of grandeur. Somewhere, someday, some Sabbat descendant would be stupid enough to embrace a few packs' worth of vampires, and a whole new generation of cybered hunters would answer the call to arms. He just hoped he wasn't the only kindred looking to address such issues before they became a problem.

"So… a museum," Joey muttered, shaking off his memories as he tried to figure a way out of a night of culture. No doubt an after-dark showing at the museum will be attended by several Toreador and their ghouls, all of them known to Simone and unknown to me. Bad enough I'm forced into coming out here alone to gather intel… I'm not gonna be stupid enough to conduct the mission on their turf if I can avoid it. "I don't suppose there's any way I can talk you out of it."

"Well, I sorta promised Alexandra that we'd stop by," Simone answered. Joey didn't miss that she said 'we,' and not 'I.'

"I know a fantastic bar down in Riverside," Joey countered, immediately suggesting what he thought Simone's worst-case scenario. While not dressed formally, she'd still paid a great deal of attention to her makeup and her stylish, earth-tone ensemble. Given how much time she'd obviously spent on her hair, he couldn't believe he'd actually gotten her to ride on the back of his motorcycle; expecting her to agree to walk into a violent waterfront pub full of drunken, dirty sailors and pirates was far beyond reasonable. "We could have some real fun there."

"I… uh… I don't know."

"Well, look at it this way – the idea of going to a museum is about as attractive to me as going to a dive bar is to you," Joey reasoned, bringing her right around to the compromise he'd wanted from the get-go.

"How about we skip the museum and just go to the club and check out the band I was gonna take you to see?" Simone suggested, her train of thought going right where Joey had hoped it would. And all without a single use of Dominate, too. There'll still be Toreador around – no doubt about that – but if I have any luck at all the place will be too loud for any of those subtle interrogations Toreador are so damned good at. If I'm really lucky, there won't be too many Toreador at all, and they'll all be younger. Less chance any of them will know anything about any kindred putting out a hit on me, but they'll also be less likely to be the one who actually ordered the hit.

"Fair enough," Joey said, kick-starting the bike and pulling back into traffic, cutting off a greenie and speeding away before the guardsman could scan his plates. "So where is this place, anyway?"

"This is Rebecca," Simone said, leading Joey toward the end of a vintage, English Oak bar that ran the length of the club. Rebecca had broken away from a small cadre of beautiful and stylishly dressed men and women talking in a shadowy corner; each of them was skillfully stealing glances at Joey and Simone, though their uncoordinated collective efforts made their furtive glances embarrassingly conspicuous. Joey sighed, and then turned his attention to Rebecca. "She's Alexandra's oldest childe," Simone explained.

Joey took Simone's words – meant solely to impress – as a suitable warning, reminding himself that if Alexandra Kelly had been embraced in the 2020's, Rebecca could be a fairly accomplished, formidable kindred by the current standards. Rebecca was tall and had the kind of athletic build that, a century earlier, would have had strangers asking her if she played basketball. Her brown hair was pulled back in a French braid, and she wore no jewelry to accent the sapphire-blue silk dress that, while clearly expensive and custom-tailored, failed to settle properly on her vaguely muscular curves.

"So I guess that means you're the primogen's right-hand man," Joey said glibly, extending his hand as he stared up at the woman. "Or the right-hand woman, as the case may be."

"And you're Joey Shigeta," Rebecca responded, allowing herself a few moments for an appraising stare of her own before she finally shook Joey's hand. She took her time, seeming to bask in the fact that she was about a half-foot taller than her guest.

"Yup, I'm the new guy," Joey finally replied. The calluses on her hands give it away, he decided. She's a sculptor. Having comfortably pigeonholed the woman, he tried to settle down and enjoy himself as much as possible, given the circumstances. He knew the Toreador were masters at reading their peers, and if he was anxious and guarded, they would know. The only way to seem relaxed is actually to relax.

Rebecca threw a meaningful glance at the group in the corner, and they scurried away in all directions, vacating the space for Rebecca, Simone, and Joey. Joey couldn't help but be impressed; he knew that the Toreador, as a clan, tended to pride themselves on rank and propriety. The fact that several members of the clan scattered at a glance from Rebecca spoke volumes about her influence.

Rebecca relaxed on a large leather chair and gestured for Joey to take a seat across from her. He flopped down casually, and Simone gracefully settled herself on the thick, cushioned arm of the chair, placing her hand on Joey's shoulder and smiling toward Rebecca. Rather than concentrate on the subtle exchange of niceties between the two Toreador, Joey marveled at an inexplicable acoustic effect that dampened the noise of the club within the dimly lit corner. It was clear that Rebecca was confident enough to be comfortable in the public eye.

"Special tiles in the walls and ceiling," Rebecca explained, as if she could read Joey's thoughts. "The contour of the arches above us, as well as the curvature of the ceiling between here and the center of the room, adds to the effect. I like conducting business in the open, but I hate shouting at the people I'm speaking with."

"It's pretty cool," Joey admitted.

"And relatively secure," Rebecca replied. "If you're standing just a few feet away, the sound of the band will completely drown out any noise coming from this corner. It makes it tough to eavesdrop."

"I'm flattered you think I might say anything important enough for people to want to eavesdrop," Joey said. He glanced around quickly and noticed that the group of Toreador that had vacated the corner had congregated at the other end of the bar, all of them still stealing glances in his direction. Their curious expressions had given way to thinly veiled jealousy, and Joey couldn't help but laugh.

"What's so funny?" Rebecca asked.

"Your clanmates," Joey explained, pointing at the group of Toreador. "I don't think they appreciate being set aside for a poorly dressed stranger." He shifted slightly in the chair, realizing for the first time that he really was rather underdressed for the occasion; in fact, he could hardly help but feel self-conscious given how Rebecca had clearly gone out of her way to make a good impression on him.

"They'll get over it," Rebecca said confidently. "They're young, and I dare say a small bit spoiled. I doubt any of them's ever seen a Brujah, either. They just don't understand why a newcomer should displace them."

"And what will you tell them later when they ask?"

"Well… word has it you're the new Brujah primogen," Rebecca said.

"Jury's still out on that," Joey replied. Though there are certainly perks I hadn't considered, he decided, his eyes sweeping over the inside of the club once again. It had been a long time since he'd been around kindred who lived comfortably in their surroundings, confident enough in their security that they dared devote time and energy to socialization. I'm surprised how much I missed it, Joey admitted silently. But after a moment's reflection, he realized that it was far more than nostalgia brightening his mood. The more he glanced around, the more obvious it was that everyone was looking at him and Simone. Everyone in here – kindred and kine, alike – would kill to be in this corner enjoying Rebecca's undivided attention. Power has its privileges.

"Oh, come on now," Rebecca chided playfully, lightly touching Joey's knee as she locked her gaze on his. "Even if there were other Brujah to provide you some competition for the job, no one's likely to win over the prince the way you have."

"I got the distinct impression he didn't like me," Joey countered, though he also couldn't help but be intrigued by Rebecca's suggestion that he had fared better than he thought with the prince.

"There're certain rules of decorum," Rebecca explained. Joey didn't miss the conspiratorial tone of her voice, the unmistakable implication that, inexplicably, a powerful Toreador wasn't seizing an opportunity to leave him on the outside looking in. Again, he was struck by how much he'd missed the old days – missed mingling with his own kind – without even realizing it. "If Travis was too open about liking you, it would have made someone jealous. Word has it you're old enough to have an idea how that would end."

"Probably with a gunshot or two," Joey conceded, smiling despite himself. He leaned back in his chair, and Simone's hand moved from his shoulder to the base of his neck, where she slowly ran her hand in small circles, her fingertips feeling as if they were draining the last vestiges of stress from his overburdened mind. And the people around him looked even more jealous. "I can't help but notice that you don't seem too concerned with giving me some time out of what I'm sure is a busy schedule," he added.

"Well, truth be told, I was curious," Rebecca said. "Simone told me a bit about you, and I decided I just had to meet you."

"So the invitation and quasi-private audience in your club had nothing to do with me being the presumptive Brujah primogen," Joey teased, smiling thinly.

"I assure you I didn't give your rank – or potential rank – a second thought. Ask around, Joey… even the prince has never been in this club." She glanced around the room, as if she herself was searching for a single soul who could tell Joey he was any less favored than she claimed. "I didn't expect you here so early, though," Rebecca conceded. "I thought you guys were going to Allie's show at the museum."

"Change of plans," Simone said. "Seems it all turned out for the best, though."

"It is probably better this way," Rebecca agreed. "You know how Allie gets when there's art to talk about." She turned to Joey, her eyes practically beaming, and added, "It's even a bit much for me, and I'm an artist. Can't imagine it would be a Brujah's cup of tea. You look more like the type who'd go out and experience life for himself rather than live vicariously through some boring old artist's vision of the world."

"You understand completely," Joey said.

"Which is why I thought you just had to meet him," Simone cooed.

"So, Joey," Rebecca said. "How in the world did you end up in Wilmington, anyway? I have a feeling this is going to be a fascinating story."

To be continued………………………………………