The Devil and the Huntsman [Casmir|Malthiel, semi-open]

[luscen]

The Velvet Vibes Lounge had nothing on Club REM, Casmir decided as he stood in front of the corner lot of the Nightclub. The two-story building was ultra-modern, with sleek siding in a crisp white color, neon lights flashing the name of the establishment in blue and purple. An abstract statue of what looked like a flame spiraled up from a fountain situated to the left of the front steps, sprays of water similarly colored by lights pulsing in a timed pattern to draw even more attention to the sight of the club. All in all, whoever had put the place together knew how to set up a honeypot for the gaudy tastes of club-crawlers who were attracted by the allure of pretty lights, and who had nothing but time and money to waste. And yet, it somehow managed to maintain an air of dignity past the veneer of pandering, which Casmir found almost impressive, if he were being honest.

The dull throb of music reached the Hunter's ears as he finished off his cigarette, moving forward in the line waiting at the door. A Troglodyte stood guard at the entrance, not bothering to hide his intimidating form since this version of the club sat in the Underground. His heavy tail thumped against the floor as beady reptilian eyes scanned the crowd for any signs of trouble. Those eyes rolled down towards Casmir as he stepped up to the entrance, a derisive snort blowing out from the reptile's nostrils and blowing through the Hunter's blonde hair. “Name?” it croaked through a thick set of jaws lined with sharp, white teeth.

“Piotr Conrad,” Casmir replied, pulling out an ID with a photo of himself and presenting it to the lizard. The Trog took the card, peering at it, then held it up to a blacklight pen. “Something unusual about my card, friend?” he asked innocently, spreading his arms.

“Don't get many humans down here,” the thing growled, giving Casmir a flat look. “You don't smell like magic, so you ain't a witch.” His tail thumped the ground again, eyes going to the Hunter's coat. “Ain't got any surprises under there, do you?”

Casmir smiled politely and spread his coat open for the reptile to look at. “Not a one, good man. I'm just a simple fellow looking for a good time, maybe with a Melusine? You wouldn't happen to have seen any lively ladies looking for some fun, eh?” The Trog gave him a disgruntled look in reply, leaning in and sniffing around on the Hunter's person for any sign of hidden weapons. He wouldn't find any, of course; if Casmir needed any guns, all he had to do was find a locked door somewhere on the premises. No point risking getting turned away at the door over such a thing.

“Fine,” the scaly bouncer said eventually, jerking a clawed thumb to the door. “Don't touch any of the dancers, don't be an ass to the other guests, and don't make an idiot of yourself, otherwise you'll have to look for your water-chicks somewhere else, got it?”

Casmir nodded and made his way inside, trying to ignore the dull ache in his leg- it hadn't fully healed from where the Skinwalker had tore it open, yet. His salve had kept him from bleeding out, and some tweaking from Delphi had managed to mend it, to a degree. But he wasn't back to 100%, yet, which meant he needed to play it safe. The only problem with that, however, was that he was running out of time; Atol was here in the city, though what he was after, Casmir couldn't be sure of- the lead with the Gorgon had fizzled out, as she was now in the custody of the WDSA, and after his last encounter with two of their agents, he didn't fancy trying to sneak into their headquarters to interrogate her. The Velvet Vibes Lounge had likewise been nothing but a waste of time, leading to him playing bodyguard for a vivacious redhead and tangling with a trio of unscrupulous Supers. Every moment he wasted nipping at the Mage's heels was another moment Atol had to get what he came for, then the Hunter in the lurch again.

Casmir, for one, was tired of playing catch-up. So, under Delphi's guidance, he had come here, to the foremost nightspot in the city. Dancing and schmoozing, however, were not exactly high on his list; apparently, the head of Wathais' underworld happened to own the establishment, and made frequent appearances here. Someone who had their thumb on the pulse of the entire city had to know something of the Soundless' movements, at least if they were worthy of their title. All the Hunter needed was a clue, a whiff of a scent... anything that might tell him what Atol's aims were. And if this weren't the place to get it, then he was out of options.

The blonde made his way down the stairs, his eyes roving around the perimeter and taking in the scene: steps led down to an atrium that served as as the dance floor, with pulsing lights and thumping bass music energizing the rather impressive crowd. Again, the Lounge had nothing on this place, which was packed full of party-goers all having a night of it. Multiple bars lined the walls, serving cocktails and mixed drinks, nothing basic or “folksy” to be seen anywhere on the menus. The servers were all in proper uniforms as well, wearing professional-looking attire that denoted them as being members of the staff. No jeans or t-shirts among the dress code here, apparently...

Casmir carefully made his way over to the nearest bar, mindful of his sore leg, and sat down, tapping his knuckles lightly against the counter as he tried to see whether or not they had any Żubrówka here; at this point, he would have killed for some good damn vodka.

[Salandis]

Moana was having a good night. She was in one of her favourite clinging knee-high backless dresses, one that was heavy silk of royal blue with a plunging neckline and a conservative C. It was set off with a necklace of gold and black pearls, with matching earrings and large-linked chain belt. Her hair tonight was her usual dark red, and she had even managed to coax it into something resembling heavy curls.  She was mingling in the upper club tonight, getting plenty of admiring looks, and had already passed four drinks on to clients that were good friends and regulars. She was heading to the bar to check in with Jade when her earbud chirped at her.

“Moana, are you free to look at a puzzle?” It was Damien in the camera rooms. Moana changed course to find a more quiet nook near the bar. “What’s going on Damien?” She asked with a smile. “You know I always have time for your puzzles.” She was rewarded with a dry chuckle. “Charms are wasted on the dead, sweets,” he replied, “Even in that dress.” She looked at the camera and pouted comically, to be rewarded with another chuckle. “Alright then, what’s going on?” she asked, her tone professional. “Eddy downstairs raised a flag.” Damien responded. “We got a human come in down there. No magic or weapons, nothing overt, claimed he was after Melusine.” Moana’s eyebrows rose. “Here, and not over at the waterfront? I thought Padrig had the female fae well represented.” She almost heard the ghoul shrug. “Maybe he wants one that’s not a working girl.   Anyway, he put up Eddy’s back a bit. So far he’s just headed to the bar for a drink, but he’s gotta be one of three humans down there, and the others are regulars.” Moana smiled. “I see. So you want me to go down and introduce myself, see if his, uh, desires are legit?” Damien gave another chuckle. “Something like that. And in that dress, I’m sure you can knock him dead if that’s what he’s really after!”

“Flatterer,” Moana said with a grin. “Alright, let Eddy know I’m on my way down.”

Normally getting from topside to downside took a moderate amount of time. Moana had some advantages however, and only a minute or so later she straightened her dress and stepped out from the staff door at REM’s downstairs establishment. Charles at the bar passed her his order as she went around to the public side of the bar, and she walked around to deliver it. She studied the man as she approached, and saw what had set off Eddy.  He was a rough-cut man with neatly groomed stubble and short blond hair. A scar went right up his face, touching his hair grey where it went up over his hairline, and the eye it crossed was clearly artificial. He sat at the bar easily, as if he belonged, but the trenchcoat was slightly out of place against the party dress around him. ‘If you didn’t slow cook that one for a week it would be like chewing leather,” she thought wryly. ‘Still, he does stick out a bit, and even the bar can sense it.’   Maybe only because he was human, but there was at least two seats of empty space on either side of him at the bar. He didn’t seem to care, managing to project an air of calm indifference as he waited patiently for his drink, lightly drumming his knuckles on the counter. Moana would be willing to bet he had already taken careful note of the space, the people nearby, the exits, and her.

She slid up next to him at the bar, leaning forward to set his Vodka next to him with a smile. “I haven’t seen you in here before,” she said warmly. “Are you new in town?”

[luscen]

Casmir sized up the pretty face that had brought him his drink with a low, impressed whistle. “New enough,” he replied, picking up the glass with a grateful smile. Taking a sip, he felt the familiar flavor of his preferred liquor wash over his tongue and savored the experience. 'Ah, thank god. Someone here has some decent taste!' He'd have to be careful not to get kicked out, now; If the man who ran this place was a valuable source of information, that was all well and good, but he doubted he'd have much luck finding another bar in this town that carried this particular bit of ambrosia. To be deprived of that would have been a true tragedy.

“I seem to be scaring off the other customers, though,” he apologized, gesturing to the empty space around him. “Must be my cologne- Jovani's a bit sharp, after all...” the Hunter examined the creature before him- for all intents and purposes, she seemed human, but something about her set his instincts on edge. She reminded him of a succubus, after a fashion. Definitely predation undertones, there. And that was beside the blue-hued aura surrounding her body like a nimbus, its edges waving and undulating like water. She was clearly magical, the only question was, what kind of magic did she have?

'Polynesian,' the Hunter mused, taking note of the skin color, the shape of the eyes, and the tattoo on her chin. 'An Aitu, perhaps? The vibes she's giving off don't really put her as a Manaia... Definitely not a Patupaiarehe... she wouldn't have that tattoo, if that were the case.' Regardless of what she was, and the feeling she was giving him, however, the hostess wasn't currently being threatening towards Casmir. So he decided to see whether or not he could coax her into setting up a meeting with her boss.

“Don't suppose you're a Melusine, eh?” he asked, taking another sip of his vodka and raising an inquiring eyebrow at her. “I uh... I might have heard tell there was one or two here, and well... if you ain't, they definitely need to up their game, I'm thinking...” he inclined his head towards the stool next to him, inviting her to sit.

[Salandis]

Moana widened her eyes as she took the indicated seat. “I can’t imagine why anyone would be avoiding you,” she said, feigning shock. “Why, you look like any other human out on the town for a good time. And the cologne is good!” She raised her hand at Bryson behind the bar, who could be counted on to actually remember the drinks of other people - unlike her own terrible track record there. Jade had finally banned her from serving customers, after all.

‘Actually’, she thought to herself, ‘Eddy was right to get his back up. He really isn’t dressed to party, and he really doesn’t fit as a clubgoer otherwise, especially with no-one else here that knows him. I wonder...’ He was tough looking enough to be one of John’s, but John had better conduits if he wanted to talk to the boss. Padrig was clannish enough to send an Irishman – he always had before – and sending a taking head didn’t fit the MO of the other strange group she was forbidden from investigating. That left some new group or a solo operative, maybe bounty hunter, and he did seem to be new in town.

“Of course,” she said, picking up the thread of her last comment, “I’m not one. Human, I mean,” she smiled warmly, “Although I’m not a Melusine either. I hope you don’t hold that against me?” She pouted slightly, crossing her legs and leaning towards him as she collected her own drink from the bar. “You might have better luck looking around the waterfront for one of those, unless there was one Melusine in particular you were looking for...” She trailed off with an upward tone of voice, making it a question.

[luscen]

Casmir feigned casualness, watching the redhead take the proffered seat with an elegance that bespoke a woman intimate with the nature of water. A dangerous opponent to fight- distracting to the eye, and quick to strike without warning. He'd have to take care with her. 

"Well, I don't mean to be... impolite," he replied with a half-shrug. "But the ones by the waterfront are a little..." the Hunter swirled the liquid around in his glass. "damp. And you know, a man has to have some standards, doesn't he?" 

"Actually, I heard about this particular mermaid from a buddy of mine who works at the docks. Showed me this," Casmir explained, discreetly slipping a hand into the pocket of his khakis. He pulled out a small pin, laying it on the counter: it was the mark of an Ancilla Vampire- one that was not a clan head, but an older vampire given dominion over a certain territory. Casmir had taken it off the body of one that had run a bordello here a week ago. 

"Said that I could find who I was looking for, here." A simple bit of deception: play the part of a human messenger- a thrall, perhaps, to the vampire clan that would not take the death of one of their own lightly, and was now looking for answers. If the man who ran this place was the kingpin of Wathais' underworld, then it would make sense to send someone in to find information. After all, Vampires loved their politics, and wouldn't want to frighten their quarry or put themselves at war with a power equal or greater than their own, would they?

[Salandis]

Moana laughed politely at the comment about the waterfront. Padrig’s Irish were a damp lot, after all, with the smell of seawater still clinging to them. That laughter died when the pin was placed on the counter.

Not even Moana kept track of every operation in the underworld – that’s a task that brought Sisyphus firmly to mind. Other people were on board to handle those records, along with accounts, loans, and laundering. But this pin… oh, yes, she knew that symbol. That bordello had been quiet, paying it’s “second rent” (And first, actually, the building was leased – through several intermediaries – from the Syndicate itself) until just about a week ago.

As was coming to light they had strayed a little bit from their normal business plan. Mal was taking a hands-off approach, letting the legal investigation team take care of sifting the rubble until just what had happened there was… clarified. There wasn’t evidence of Syndicate involvement, but they were paying protection. Mal liked providing actual surety, something above most rackets, and there was bound to be consequences for breaking the peace like that.

And then this man just strolled into the very heart of Mal’s operation to put that pin on the counter.

She leaned back, taking a drink and not touching the pin. She gave the man at the table a longer, measuring look. Something he didn’t know, if he didn’t know what she was, was that curses were something her kind were very familiar with. To her eyes they lingered around people like smoke, with a kind of extra scent or flavor a skilled adept could parse and identify. This man in front of her was cursed, faint dozens of wispy mostly-nothings without weight enough to do more than distract. Nowhere was that distinctive and old blood-iron-death tang of which the Ancilla would display, with their ancient curse. No one not bound to them would carry a pin of that seniority. Which really only left one way he could have gotten it.

“Well, that certainly changes things,” she said, offering a winning smile. “I’m afraid this is over my pay grade, which,” she added more seriously, “is saying a fair bit. You’ll have to come with me to the boss.  When you're done with your drink, of course."

[luscen]

Casmir discreetly gaged the woman's shift in posture as she regarded the pin- she had a marvelous poker face, to be sure, but she knew that this was not just any common piece of jewelry. That meant she wasn't just a common entertainer, but someone who possessed at least some knowledge of this "crime lord's" inner workings. 

Seemed he'd made a good catch.

Red-and-blue eyes met dark ones as the Polynesian scrutinized him, her fluid aura beginning to churn slightly with what was likely consternation. He wasn't sure what she was looking for, but Casmir maintained a polite-but-calm air, not breaking eye contact, but not allowing himself to come across as challenging or confrontational, either. 'Look as much as you want,' he seemed to be offering. 'I have nothing to hide, here.'

Eventually, the red-haired woman seemed to be satisfied, and smiled at him again. “Well, that certainly changes things,” she said, her watery halo settling, though there seemed to still be a bit of tension lingering around it. “I’m afraid this is over my pay grade, which is saying a fair bit. You’ll have to come with me to the boss. When you're done with your drink, of course."

"I appreciate it," the Hunter replied, raising his glass to her. "Though, I don't suppose there'll be some... frisking involved beforehand?" he added, a small smirk playing across his lips.

[Salandis]

Moana actually – momentarily – looked startled. This man, this human, had the sheer cahones to walk in here with the symbol of a very extinct vampire brothel, virtually certain to have participated in that extinction, and he still managed to flirt? But she was nothing if not a professional.  She laughed, a low husky laugh that really wasn’t out of place for the bar they were in. “I normally let Eddy take care of that – you would have seen him at the door,” she said with a purr.  “But in rare cases I can take personal oversight of that.”

She sipped at her drink, a fizzy coloured thing with not a drop of alcohol or milk in it, and gave him another smile. “I suppose it depends on how much I like you before you finish your drink – which, of course, depends on how much of a rush you are in.”

The boss wouldn’t be in a hurry. Damien would have kept him notified, and as strange as this was getting it wasn’t as urgent as the club getting torn up. It also gave her another option to assess this – he had to be a hunter of some kind, and perhaps later a problem for her to solve.

She leaned closer, smiling somewhat playfully even as she carefully watched his reactions. “I’m not a Melusine, but maybe I’ll let you guess just what I am…”



After all, that would tell her something too.

[luscen]

"If I'm honest, I'd rather let the present company see if I'm a good boy," Casmir replied, keeping a small smirk playing along his lips. "I mean, Eddy seems like a nice enough guy, but have you seen those hands? He looks like he's never gotten a manicure a day in his life." 

He took another draught of his vodka, then quickly set the glass down on the counter, turning to her properly. "Mm! Where are my manners," the scarred man said, shaking his head. He held his hand out to the redhead with a charming smile. "Piotir. Though you might call me Conrad, if you'd prefer? First or last, a name's a name, after all. And whom do I have the pleasure of speaking with?"