Los Angeles: Blood Moon - ❌💀🟩ch5-checking-on-reflection

Day 5 Location: Checking on Reflection Players: @Rachel Delaine @ℂ𝕙𝕣𝕚𝕤 𝕋𝕖𝕣𝕣𝕪 ST: @!Your Hyennaes

13:48

Another sunset. And with the darkness that came into Rachel's body, the ability to think returned. But today she did not like these thoughts very much, they were gloomy, irritable and bore a tangible imprint of hunger. Rachel opened her eyes. The review was blocked by the third edition of some pseudo-occult haze with a typical title that Rachel had already forgotten. Apparently yesterday she passed out with a book in her hands, and it fell on her face. The content of this epic turned out to be exceptional nonsense. Like several previous books, pre-selected from a huge pile of what book sites proudly called occult literature. It was named, by the way, absolutely undeservedly, and she was very sorry for the time spent on this nonsense. Rachel pushed the book away in annoyance and stared up at the ceiling. The ceiling did not help, irritation continued to boil somewhere inside, demanding an exit. Taking several deep breaths, she tried to meditate. But the smell of books again reminded me of the futility of trying to figure everything out. So, having stopped trying to calm down, Rachel finally got out of bed and went to clean herself up.

13:48

Her little hideout, which had never been tidy, was in dire need of cleaning right now. The little basement studio, whose main assets were stable internet and a great audio system, was now littered with papers and clothes and things that were out of place. However, nothing surprising. Five days ago, Rachel just finished the script on deadline. Of course, having plunged into work, she pushed all the little things of life into the background, and promised herself to clean up as soon as the work was finished. But it didn’t work out right away - there was a Sabbath. And after the meat grinder in the warehouse, cleaning seemed like a trifle. Much more important, it seemed, was to find the clues to that inexplicable part of what happened, which did not give rest to the young brujah. 4 days have passed. And there is no result, no cleaning, no ideas for the next scenario, about which Roxana will soon begin to ask. “Damn.” Rachel slammed her fist into the wall in annoyance. The wall trembled, CDs rained down from the shelves. Suppressing a sigh of frustration, she sat down on the floor. “It won't work like that” - She really wanted to bang her head against the wall, but the wall was a pity, like a new repair. She needed to calm down. And above all, eat. Rachel jumped up quickly, pulling jeans and a leather over a T-shirt. She put on the first crosses that came across and, grabbing her bag, quickly left the fragile room. (edited)

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13:49

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((do you want to hunt or go straight to the Reflection?))

@Rachel Delaine

The fresh air cooled the mind a little. Rachel hurried through the streets of Hollywood sticking her hands in her pockets. She didn't even think about where she was going until she found herself in one of the city's many small alleys. It was quiet, dark, almost deserted. And the beast tossing and turning inside, imperceptibly, in addition to consciousness, brought her here, clearly hoping for this “almost” …

Rachel was walking pretty long time to see the appropriate victim. Finally she noticed the small silhouette on the lonely narrow dark street. She also could see the light from the mobile phone and the voice with the tones of crying. - No. I will not return. I don't want to see her, not any more. Never again. After all she has done to me I would need to do her something bad, but I can't. Just... Tell her I won't return home.

She walked down the alley, looking around him with hungry eyes. Anyone! Who cares! The main thing is lonely and inattentive. Today she does not want to complicate her hunt. Didn't want to at all. She's been in a lot of trouble lately. The silhouette instantly caught her attention. The vision, almost automatically, focused on her neck. The hungry beast demands action now. That vampire part of Rachel was already anticipating the warmth of the blood, could already taste it on her lips. But that was not the main thing here. Not yet… Ignoring the urge to break loose and sink her fangs into her throat, Rachel froze. Almost merging with the darkness in her black jacket, she listened. Let her finish. Let her hang up the phone. We don't need unnecessary questions and speculation. No need for extra witnesses No one must know… Just a minute of patience...

00:50

Some time later. Emerging from the dark alleys of Hollywood, Rachel wandered aimlessly through the streets of the city. The beast ate and calmed down, but the irritation did not go away completely. The mere thought of going home and continuing the endless gibberish made her. But trying not to think about occult research, Rachel was beginning to think about the script, which she should have started writing by now. But there are no ideas, no inspiration, and no desire to do it. Rachel could hardly suppress another wave of irritation. We need a distraction. Rachel took out her phone and started going through the names. The first number, Roxanne - definitely not. “She'll start asking about the script right away. I don't want to.” Joseph. Michael. “No, not now. Well, the sire's probably busy, and so is the brother. Oh, maybe he'll fit.” Dialing the selected number Rachel listenned to the calls.

Christopher woke up in his club for the first time since the enemy massacre and destruction. He glanced at his watch - around 11:00 p.m. "Well, I woke up and it means that the next not mine child is not a bloody killer after all" - thought toreador. He almost immediately reproached himself for this thought. This is not fair to Jane. - You shouldn’t be such a jerk, Terry... - Chris muttered silently to himself, continuing to lie on the bed in clothes, in the same motionless position in which he fell onto the bed last night. He didn’t want to get up. To rebuild that dream, the fragments of which will never come one to the other. It was possible in the old days music and noise of the visitors of his club kindled in him emotions and interest every night, but on that night he felt only hunger and the call of his beast. The new responsibility, which slept in the dressing room behind the wall from Chris' room, most likely also woke up and walks through a closed club. - Get up already, lazy, we have a lot of work to do.. - Christopher muttered to himself, and after five minutes he got up and went to look for a guest. (edited)

The 'guest' was already not sleeping, but not in the club, just in the room Chris left him last night. He was thoughtful and somewhat not satisfied. It seemed with his current situation.

Christopher quietly knocked on the door with his index finger’s knuckle before opening it. - Can I come in? - He asked quietly before opening the door wider. - How are you? Getting used to the position, I suppose?

The guy pointed a heavy look on Chris. - So what now? You gonna my guard or...

- Normally, we call it Sire. But our situation with you is... unusual. Christopher came to the guest, and having examined his dirty clothes, sat next to him on the edge of no less dirty bed. - I’ve got some clothes, maybe you’d like some, and you could use a shower first.

The guy sighed. - Y-yeah, I heard something about it. I don't fucking give a damn. If I could know more at the moment I would probably have left the city already. So. What do you plan to do with me anyway? He stood up and headed towards the bathroom.

- Well, I’d like to ask your name first, if I may. You probably already know mine, I’m Christopher.

- I'm George, - he introduced himself, - and if you don't mind I still will go to bathroom... He looked at Chris more attentively. It seemed they both just realised that Chris was quite smaller size then the newbie.

- Okay, get yourself cleaned up for now, if there’s any hot water at all... Hmm, it’s got to be... Besides, you almost don’t care anymore. Well, I’m gonna go see if I can find some clothes at least about your size... and then we’ll talk. Christopher stood in the corridor until George closed the shower door behind him, and went to ruin his extensive wardrobe.

Unfortunately there were no appropriate clothes in his wardrobe. But he was able to find the ill-fated blouse of his sister.

Christopher looked at the blouse, and shifted. * - Why do I keep these creepy memories here? *He threw the blouse back into a pile of clothes that he had been planning to get rid of for over a month. Then he found a cloth brush "if you can’t find clothes, you have to clean what you have". Having picked up some clothes for himself, what he was wearing now was a loan from an old friend who Chris had been hiding from for the last couple of nights, recovering from the burns, he headed back to the guy’s room, waiting for him there. As he sat in the room, he heard the rather quiet sounds of water pouring in, and suppressed the involuntarily heightened hearing and smell - a hunger that he could still control, gave way. "What to do with the guy? Two fledglings in the same hand - quite difficult, considering I had a little time to explain Jane before she was turned... and the club... But giving a guy to the Camarilla is the equivalent of cold-blooded murder, bastard LaCroix would be only too happy to give George’s execution a show. Fuck... And in all this, he has taken an interest in this kammi sorcerer - what else could that possibly mean to me?" - a lot of chaotic thoughts, and too few good decisions.

George came out pretty soon in only one towel at his hips. His body looked way impressive, seems like he was going to gym regularly. - So what? Where are the clothes?

- No clothes. Unfortunately, I think... Christopher examined George and then with a smile got up from the chair and, passing him, handed him a clothes brush. - We have to clean the one that is, and then go shopping. - Added toreador heading to the freed shower. (edited)

- Are you fucking kidding me?! Just go buy something! You're a vampire club owner are you not? you much have tons of green stuff to spend, eh?

The owner of the club stopped at the door and looked back at the naked guard. - I’m not trying to force you to do your hand laundry, am I? Just try to clean out the more visible dirt, and then we’ll go to the convenience store. Toreador was already on his way out again, but looked back with a smile. - But if you want to go like this, I assure you I won’t mind... um... I can even support you on this... Chris winked and went into the shower.

- U-huh! Well, I can not make this look good enough., Also there are people who can recognise me. So it is better you go without me. I am size N [names his clothes size].

Without answering anything unambiguous Christopher left George’s small room and went into the shower. Standing in steam clubs, under hot water jets, he pondered. George is right about something, but leaving him at the club unsupervised was scary. It’s almost like leaving a wounded friend in the care of someone you don’t know. It’s a hard decision to make, especially if the traumatic events are so recent... and yet he did nothing to Chris while he was sleeping. Having washed off the dust, and given your undead body at least some freshness, the pair has dressed and left the bathroom. - All right, George. You’re right - I shouldn’t put you in that kind of danger until you’ve had enough experience of all the changes in your body. So, while I’m gone, have a little look down here, have a look down in the main hall, and we could really use a little security detail on this place to see how to open it up. (edited)

At the same time Chris heard the phone ringing. Nasty sound, Phones also reminded him of what happened just recently, but looking at the screen he saw Rachel's name.

"Soon I will develop phobia on calls" Chris nervously reacted to this, until he threw a quick glance on the display. But, he concluded with more cheerful relief, this is clearly not about Rachel. - Hey, hey, girl. Any new enemies on the horizon?

- Hey Chris! - the sounds of the street were heard in the background - Unfortunately, no. Too bad! Right now I'd be only too happy to be distracted by a couple of unattractive faces! - there was a deep sigh with a slight touch of growl - Listen, do you mind if I come over? We'll have a chat. Maybe I can help. I REALLY NEED IT!

"God bless her!" 'Chris thought of the one person who, judging by the notes in his voice, was almost vital to reach him with a helping hand. And are the details important now? The Toreador will always be able to ask about them. * - Rachel, our doors are always open to you. And if I remember correctly, you and your brother know how to open windows. - *Chris decided to defuse the seriousness of the moment with a quick joke - Of course come. I was actually just leaving, but I’d love to meet you. (edited)

- Don't remind me - Rachel rolled her eyes. The memory of that incident still made her want to punch her brother. Although, if there had really been explosives there, he would have saved her life with that throw... - I'll be there soon. Wait for me. After hanging up the phone, Rachel headed for “Reflection”.

- Good. - Answered the guy in the already completed call, and put the phone in his pocket. - Well, George. - Chris again turned his attention to the silently standing guest. - Really look around here. As you can see, there was an attack at this club, and Jane and I could use a professional look. And who knows, maybe you will agree to work for us for a while, while you know yourself anew. Mutually beneficial, right? - Christopher winked inquiringly at George.

The roar of of Rachel's bike engine alerted everyone present to her arrival shortly after the conversation ended. The road to "Reflection" was frustratingly short. Just like any other path through the deserted streets of the city at night. You could certainly follow the rules and not drive like a madwoman. But is it fun? Who buys a bike to ride slowly at all? Rachel turned off the engine and looked around the sadly familiar clubhouse.

The club was not working. The remainders of police lines moved as snakes in the dark corners of the street. It wasn't obvious if anyone was there but definitely it was not open for public.

Mm-hmm. However, considering what happened there last time... The silence of the club made Rachel a little nervous. Of course, the same situations don't happen twice. But somewhere in the back of my mind I involuntarily recalled the massacre I had seen. And it made me tense up like before a fight. Even the slight creak of the front door seemed too loud. Of course, it was all nonsense brought on by bad memories. But they were too fresh. And now Rachel couldn't understand how Chris could live here after all this? I'd rather live in a haunted house! - Hey! People, the living and the dead, respond! - Rachel called out in a deliberately cheerful tone.

1

Chris was attracted by the roar of the motorcycle stopping at the club, but now, hearing Rachel's voice from below, he rather casually waved away the grumbling, and this seemingly displeased fledgling. - I’m already running! - The Toreador’s voice sounded from the bowels of the second floor. - Okay, I’ll get you some clothes. I hope you’re not hungry. By the way, there is no food, and you don’t need it anymore. Try not to leave the club. Jane, you already know. I’m not gonna kiss good-bye, I’m running. - Christopher spoke quickly and indistinctly, and hurried towards the entrance to the hall. At the foot of the stairs he slowed down and smiled at Rachel. - You don’t like to keep yourself waiting, do you? Good evening, Rach.

1

- Evening to you, too, Chris. How's the sister? Is there someone else in there with you?

- Jane’s probably not at the club yet. - Chris started coming closer to Rachel, and shaking her hand - Well, aah... ahem... There's no way to explain it in one word... There is one guy who has been turned by the Sabbath upstairs. You know, the "shovel - head - wet ground" one. (edited)

- Do you have a showelhead in your club? - Rachel looked surprised. - How? Why? Why?

Christopher rubs his face to hide it from Rachel’s eyes for a moment. - You will laugh, but at the request of Cammy. And even worse, a warlock. The guy removed his hands from his face, and with a look of a naughty retriever looked into the eyes of his friend. (edited)

1

- Tremere?! - Just a little more and Rachel's eyebrows would have gone somewhere beyond the hairline. - You're really something, Chrissy! I don't have such mind-blowing stories today! - Rachel's voice sounded enthusiastic with a touch of resentment. Her face literally read, "So many interesting things, and all without me!". She walked around Chris and sat in a chair with her elbows on the back. - Tell me about it!

1

- Well... Hm... Erm... That’s... - For a minute, Chris walked around in a circle gesticulating and giving the most eloquent speech of his life. - Eeh... - He breathed out and sat down beside Rachel, staring silently at the floor, and gathering his thoughts for almost a full minute. - Last night I came back to the club for the first time since that night... Yeah, I know I’m a jerk - leaving Jane alone for a few days... I’d punch myself in the face for that... Chris snorted something under his nose. - When I came back, there were those two kammi in the club: nosferatu Vince, and the sorcerer Alex. Alex, by the way, drank whiskey. I haven't seen anything like this yet... Apparently LaCroix finally decided to start an investigation this year, and sent them sniffing my corners... They were asking Jane questions while I was gone, assholes... So I told them that they were useless at all, and they could go to the factory, clean up after us, so that they could finally do some good... Well, they found a buried fledgling there, and for some reason did not kill it...Decided to give me. He is also from the Rose clan... I can’t kill him like a cold-blooded sabbat psychopath. (edited)

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Rachel ltened intently, changing her expression as she went along. Then she grinned. - Do you want me to punch you in the face so you can get on with your life? - So LaCroix finally woke up and realized his precious throne was burning under his ass?! Well. Good morning to him! I hope he doesn't make things worse by his ruckus. - By the way, I'd like to see that wonder-tremere who, instead of putting the shovel back in the grave like a decent Cammi, is pawning it off on the anarchs! Can you give me a number? - It was hard to tell from Rachel's sarcastic look whether she was joking or serious.

1

- LaСroix's burning ass, yes! - For the first time in all this time, Chris laughed heartily. - Well, Tremere Alex seemed to me a really decent person, albeit cunning. You have to be careful with him. Chris, taking the request of Alex's number seriously, took out his phone. - And yes, don't be fooled by his stunning beauty... And what's your problem, since you decided to come to my dug hole? Chris asked bitterly about his club. (edited)

- Being careful with Tremere sounds like one of life's mandatory rules. Like "don't stick your fingers in the socket. - Rachel wrote down the phone number, "It will come in handy anyway." After the second question, there was a look of annoyance on her face. - Everything pisses me off! You know, after what happened at the plant, I decided to pull up the occult. You know, figure out what's true and what's fiction. Maybe learn something interesting yourself. But I've been sorting through paper and digital junk, of varying degrees of nonsense, for three days now!!!! I'm sick of all this nonsense!!! And most importantly, it is completely unclear what criteria are used to distinguish the delusion from the truth!!! - Rachel took a very long breath after the long tirade, calming herself down - In general, it seemed to me that if I stayed there even for a couple more hours - I would explode! And I couldn't afford to do repairs every month. So I decided to get some air. - Rachel grinned, shrugging her shoulders and spreading her arms.

[end scene] Continue in #❌💀🟩сh8-cracked-reflection