DHMB: Thanks for the reviews and the follows. They make me happy. Despite the title the story isn't based on the Final Nights mod. It was a coincidence that I didn't realize until after I had uploaded it. Reviews make me update faster!
I entered the Pent House suite of the Venture tower to find LaCroix standing near a window, gazing out at the city below. The sound of the door clicking closed behind me caused him to turn his head in my direction. He smiled at me, though I noticed the smile did not reach his eyes, which continued to watch me with suspicion.
"There you are. I was informed of your presence in the building," he began, taking a seat on the elegant couch that sat atop the small dais at the opposite end of the room. "Since you're here, I'll take the liberty of assuming you've destroyed the warehouse…This is correct, yes?"
"Yes," I replied simply.
"Most excellent," he all but purred. "I had no doubt you'd prove my decision a prudent one. I trust you encountered no... impediments to your progress on account of my personnel?"
"None," I replied. "None at all." I declined to mention Mercurio's mess up or the fiasco with the Santa Monica Baroness.
"Good," he said, patting the spot next to him on the sofa, indicating that I was to join him. I hesitated, but moved over to the couch and sat at the opposite end from the prince. He smirked at this.
"You've done well, circumstances being what they were," he went on, "I will admit, not many in your... position would have overcome such a trial. But don't misunderstand me, it was no fool's errand." I looked over at him and realized that he had moved closer to me. I stared at him, careful to keep the rising panic I felt from my face.
"You may yet prove to be a genuine asset. It's a bit disturbing, the lack of talent within this organization as of late," he sighed. He was now right next to me, his thigh pressed to mine as he leaned back. "Tell me, what would you say to doing a bit of reconnaissance for me?"
"I suppose I'd say, 'Yes, sir'," I replied, the words leaving an acrid taste in my mouth. He smiled and slide his arm over the back of the couch behind me.
"Excellent. Were you by chance in the military at all? I was an officer myself, actually, in Napoleon's ranks," he said.
"How old are you?" I asked.
"Over two hundred years," he replied, his hand coming up to finger a loose lock of my hair.
"I've been led to believe that is unusual," I said.
"Indeed," he answered. "Most do not live past a few decades."
"I wander how long I will live," I mused out loud, not really meaning to share this thought with LaCroix. I felt his hand move to my shoulder.
"Hopefully many years," he said. I fought my involuntary response to tense under his touch, and only turned to look at him.
"What is this mission?" I asked as nonchalantly as I could.
"There have been whispers, rumors spreading around the Kindred community concerning the Elizabeth Dane, the cargo ship that was towed into port recently. Have you heard of it?" he inquired,
"Yes," I said. "I heard of it on the news."
"Well, it was found out at sea," he explained.
"With no crew in sight," I finished. He smirked.
"Indeed," he said. "The police are investigating the Dane as we speak. Even the Nosferatu have little information on what's been found. However, the reason the ship has caused such speculation, is because it was transporting an object called the Ankaran Sarcophagus. Now, I'm not one to predicate a decision based on conjecture, so what I need is fact - and more importantly, I need evidence that the occurrences on the Dane were not supernatural in nature, and in no way relate to this Ankaran Sarcophagus." I listened as he outlined what my objectives would be, all the while counting down the seconds until I could meet up with Nines and Jack.
"I will go then," I said, moving to stand.
"One more thing," LaCroix said, slightly tightening his hand on my shoulder. "You had an encounter with Nines Rodriguez a moment ago."
"How-?" I began, stunned. He pointed to the window.
"I could see you from the window," he said. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up at this thought. How much had he seen.
"He seemed to have a lot to say to you, by the way he was grabbing you," this was said in a somewhat angry tone."
"He just wanted me to come to The Last Round," I said, "and to remind me to be more careful."
"I see," he said. "Then, you should go humor the by-the-numbers rhetoric he's so desperately aching to spew. Oh please, before the chants of "fascist oppressor" from that dive of theirs clog the air and choke the local kine."
I couldn't help but giggle at the insult. While I liked Nines much more than LaCroix, the words, dripping with almost visible sarcasm, were funny. He grinned and relaxed.
"If I may give you a piece of advice - always listen to others' words carefully," he told me, flicking my hair with the tips of his fingers. "Read between the lines, gauge where you stand with them and who they decry or exalt. The more you know about someone, the greater your advantage."
I had a feeling this would be the best and most honest piece of advice I would ever get from LaCroix.
"This is a lesson I am already learning," I said, looking into his eyes. He smirked and leaned forward so that his face was but a hair's breadth away from mine.
"Then you will do well in this life, kindred," he said, his breath ghosting over my lips. I thought for a moment he was going to try and kiss me, but thankfully he pulled away and motioned for me to leave.