The driver dropped Tabetha off at Tripp's Pawn Shop and then drove to the Asylum with instructions to wait there, watch for Marko, and notify her via text in the event it should look like he was heading home. She already knew that Marko lived in a crappy apartment above the shop; the Malkavian was very sloppy about letting people know where he slept. Now that she was there, it seemed to be only sensible that Marko likely dealt with this Tripp fellow. While it was true that being sensible and being Malkavian often had nothing to do with each other, it was still worth looking in the shop in case he either sold it or hid it somewhere amongst the shop keeper's inventory.
She entered the shop; or rather the Founder entered the shop using her as a vehicle. She was very much in the back seat of this of particular venture. At the far end of the shop, a man she presumed to be Tripp was seated comfortably behind a security cage. While this might be adequate protection in these parts against most mortal threats, it would prove to be of little to no use against her.
"Hey..." the keeper greeted with a slurring drawl. "Are you looking to buy, or sell, or...?" He trailed off, as if he lost his train of thought. He was obviously intoxicated near the point of oblivion. Tabetha could feel the Founder's disdain for and disgust with this putrid excuse of living tissue. She found it rather contemptible herself.
At least there's likely no need to alter his memories or alter him in order to have our way.
He deserves to be shaken from the earth like so much chaff.
As you will, Master.
"For the time being, I am content to browse."
"No problem, ma'am." Tripp replied. "We have a very nice selection of costume jewellery and accessories right over there if you want." He pointed to one of the aisles.
"Thank you, sir; I'll keep that in mind."
The Founder led them to the aisle that Tripp indicated even as Tripp mumbled some kind of inane thing that was probably some advertisement slogan. He made quick work of scanning the shelves with Auspex for anything that might have mystical propertied to it for further investigation. Then he went about scanning the other shelves; and they found nothing. In fact, Tabetha could not recall the last time she encountered a place as Mundane as this dump. Convinced that the mirror was not hidden amongst the junk in the store front, the Founder led them back to the desk behind the cage. As he approached, he probed into the mind, such as it was, of Tripp and discovered there were several items that he kept behind the cage as they were not 'not exactly legal'. He also saw that he was very selective as to whom he allowed access to these items, and that Marko was indeed one of those within that selection. Once back in front of Tripp, the Founder allowed Tabetha to regain a measure of control, just in case the shop keeper could detect something amiss with her condition in his inebriated state of mind.
"Pardon me," Tabetha said, "but I was hoping to find something in the way of a little home defense; you know how the crime rate has been going up, and how the Los Angeles and Santa Monica Police are not exactly the brightest stars, and a friend of mine suggested you might be able to help me with that. You know Marko, right?"
Tripp groaned. "I told him to keep quiet about that!" He muttered. "Well, he's been a good customer and if he says you're cool, I'm willing to give you the benefit of the doubt. But listen; a lot of these items are not precisely licensed and the trade of them is not exactly legal, so please don't go advertising about them, okay?"
Tabetha mimed a zipper across her lips and crossed her heart.
"Okay!" he exclaimed with a kind of boozy joviality as he opened up a surprisingly cleverly hidden hatch on his side of the desk. "Here's what we have today!"
Only partly feigning interest, she looked over the items. Most of them were weapons, and most of those were firearms and ammunition. She didn't really know guns, but she did see one that she was sure was what she had come to know as the 'Dirty Harry' gun. The mirror wasn't there. So as to not waste the shop keepers' time, she selected Dirty Harry and enough ammunition to load it three times. This was also because, despite her contempt for this airhead, she felt a kind of pity for him. She paid a total of $65 for her purchase, hefted the weapon, said "Do you feel lucky, punk?" in her best attempt at Clint Eastwood.
Tripp laughed. "You must be one of Marko's friends."
Tabetha felt the Founder reassert himself and promptly relented. "Indeed I am," he agreed. Then she could feel him push out with a level of Dominate she would never have even dreamed of fathoming. "We never met. This exchange never happened. In fact, you must have fallen asleep, because you remember nothing of this night at all."
"Sure thing," Tripp agreed. "No problem." He absently set the desk back to its original format.
"Now sleep; wake well after sunrise."
Tripp promptly slumped over the desk and fell into a deep, snoring slumber. The Founder turned them around and made for the exit. Now we must check the Lunatics' quarters.
I know the way.
It quickly became clear to her that what she knew, He knew. Of course that only made sense; she was hosting Him, after all. Wordlessly he turned the corner and into the alleyway that led to the entrance into the apartments in which Marko dwelt. She managed to stop Him from climbing the stairs so they could take time to check his mailbox; she figured the Malkavian might be silly enough to leave it there- as if to try to hide it in plain sight.
The box was locked; of course. Both Tabetha and the Founder scoffed. It was such a simple mechanism that passed for security in this slum of a building. With a wave of her hand, the Founder clicked the lock open and with another wave the door to the mailbox squeaked open. Inside, there was a bag of vitae, presumably delivered by that ghoul of the Prince's Vandal Carver. Deciding that the fact it was a ghoul's blood was irrelevant, she closed and locked the box back up before continuing up the stairs.
His apartment was also locked, as if that made any difference at all. The lock to the apartment was defeated as easily as the lock to the mailbox. As the Founder carried her body into the filthy suite, Tabetha wondered if perhaps this apartment was red herring; that perhaps the Malkavian slept a lot more actively and literally than any of the Kindred thought or realized. She supposed it was even possible that Marko was making time with both of the 'Twins'; now that would really make him a threat.
"All the more reason to eliminate him, child," she said aloud, the voice of the Founder in her mouth and her ears. "Now let us remember why we are here."
"Here, kitty, kitty, kitty..." Marko's voice called from downstairs. "Hello, Tabby-cat, I'm home!"
Instinctively, Tabetha made for the window, setting to take flight. The Founder held her in place, preventing her from moving a muscle. He then compelled her to turn and face the door; or more accurately astride the door. "We are not leaving without the item, child."
"I understand, Master."
"What's this, then?" he called again; this time from the end of the hall. "The door is open! That must mean I have someone passing my tress!"
Tabetha could hear him trotting down the hall. The moment he burst through the open doorway, the Founder caught him in His snare; pinning him to the ceiling.
"WHERE IS IT?!" He demanded.
"But Gramma, what a big, Bad Voice you have." The Malkavian retorted. The Founder slammed him down to the floor, pinning him face down.
"Do not play games with me, whelp!" The Founder said. "You know what I seek. Surrender it to me, and you might see another night."
"I SURRENDER!" He cried out with a shrill and desperate shriek. "I SURRENDER! What am I surrendering?"
That was when Tabetha noticed that the Founder was letting up on His snare enough to allow Marko to move a little bit; just enough to start reaching for something stuck in the back waistband of his pants. She tried to warn Him, but He silenced her.
"The MIRROR!" he shouted. "HAND IT OVER!"
"Oh!" the Malkavian said, finally reaching the item hidden behind his back. "You must mean this!" In a flash, he pulled out the mirror, the cracked glass facing her.
"No!" she shouted in a near panic as she realized what was instantly starting to happen; the Founder was being drawn out of her and into the mirror.