You all meet in a warehouse...
Samara ignored Jan words of concern at first, she knows from experience that there are people that are more than willing to provide blood for either cash or the ecstasy of the bite. However the girl falling to the ground, unmoving, was a bit harder to reason away or ignore. Still, could just be theatrics right? Maybe a joke? She would rather not jump to conclusions in this, specially since if this was the real deal, if he really killed that girl, he is likely also willing and able to kill her and the others.There is a ominous beat playing in her head.

She takes a few steps foward, closer to the man and the fallen girl, her eyes darting betwen the two, trying to get a closer look on her without taking her eyes off him for long

"What was that? Is she ok?"
Isn’t your Beast hungry enough? – echoed in Jen’s head as her sight was blinded with thin red mist. Not from hunger though; from rage. There was that urge rushing through her veins, the urge to succumb to natural instincts and teach the smartass fuckhead a very, very hard and painful lesson. But Jen swallowed her anger. No, she wasn’t some pumped up Brujah to lose control like that.

She moved in a few quick, long paces, past Samara, and kneeled next to the body. (Gosh, just seconds ago it was somebody, she thought.) She checked for vitals even though she already knew she’d find none. She gritted her teeth, audibly.
David noticed Viviane notice that 'Mud' fella, but paid it no heed. He was past wondering how they had kept hidden before all of this "outing" had happened. He had concluded they must have been VERY adapt at it, and left it at that.

Once inside, he saw the showy 'freak' display, the oddities of feeding here readily apparent to him, what with his peculiar habits and all. Talking to the people seemed bound to be ... awkward. Then, a booming, echoing sound. Followed by a spotlight. Theatrics, it seemed. Well-done theatrics, to him, but still nothing extraordinary. Followed by a strange expression. "Beast"? That was not something familiar to David. Well, the concept would have been, had anyone ever gone to explain the connection between it, and the savage feelings he incidentally would have. Then, more show, and a collapsing woman.

This last part made him go into his professional 'mode' almost automatically. He nearly instinctually activated his "health sight" (Obeah 1), and took stock of her condition. sorry, Viviane, have to at least try and do my job...., was all he said before briskly walking over to the platform. Stating Medic coming through. as he forced himself a way there.

Even before he gets there completely, his hopes are already dashed. The woman has no life running through here whatsoever. His education, skill and knowledge combined with his supernatural insight really drive it home: tis was exsanguination. He looks over to the one taking her vitals, and just shakes his head. There's a hint of regret in it, but he does seems to remain calm. 'Seems to' being the key phrase there. Wanton murder, callous behaviour, those were things David bore very badly.
Before Monica could react, though, some other guest made a remark that pretty much changed Lilah's night. It was a remark that oddly managed to do what she hadn't up until then: it changed the music. Wasn't THAT much better though, as it was likely that it would be just that one single song... "The show must go on". It wasn't THAT much less dissonant, either. Right. Nice one. The show MUST go on, right?, she stated towards Storm.

As the sound piked up, and a spotlight came on, she was momentarily distracted by the fact the sound came from everywhere at once. Then she caught on to the fact that it wasn't necessarily supernatural, as technology could do it easier. And louder. The mention of 'Beast" by the stage presence reminded her of the writings, and the warnings in them. It was NOT wise to provoke, invoke or otherwise rile that part of their psyche. Or so Marcia had stated. When the woman collapsed, she looked on with a morbid fascination one usually sees with rubber-neckers at accidents. Wow. What just happened? Is that woman .... ? She didn't finish her sentence, as two people were rushing over to the stage, one of them calmly claiming to be a medic of some kind.
Mud took in the 'sights' of the meeting place. The lined-up people seemed in character. For a decidedly DIFFERENT kind of nightclub, that was. He'd visit one like that, if he knew of one like it, though. Something else did catch his attention. He saw Monica Johnson enter, together with the Kane lady from Colton's. "At least there's some familiarity among the masses....", was all he could think.

Feeling mostly bored at this point, he got out his PDA again, trying to find any signals that might have gotten blocked by the concrete structure of the warehouse due to being kept at a more logical power level. All he got so far was a whole slew of devices that were unsecured. "People and their lack of phone smarts...."

As the loud voice rang out, all it made him do was look up slightly less disinterested. He didn't even consider any other method of electronic voice amplification for the effect. Oh, yippy. Cheap theatrics and big words. Impressive., he snarkily uttered. This whole thing was getting more and more like a school play.

As he 'ordered' a servant over, and quite theatrically seemed to drain and discard, Mud got a lot less 'friendly', and a hell of a lot more riled. It was probably what the fucker was aiming for, but that didn't matter. Damn, that's callous. Typically Wasteful wealthy wanker act right there! What a crock!
Feeling again like a little girl around grown-ups (a feeling she had most of her life, it was leaving when she chose to become a scientist at the university, but it rushed in again when she died, like a reset button), Viviane felt very intimidated by all these monsters around. She knew everyone of them could fall into Frenzy if she bothered them, so she made sure to follow in David's footstep. He may be like her little brother, being so uneducated in the way of Vampiric unlife, he was probably stronger than her...and he was a guy so he ought to protect her, maybe...

She was shocked by the murder, but when David left her alone, she quickly followed in his footstep. Murdering people like that is horrible, but the wannabe Dracula must know what he's doing. He may want to stir up the flames of the Church of Life and make us return to the way Vampire treated humanity back in the medieval. At that, she thought of Svali who said respect was mutual. What if the girl wanted to die, or asked to become a Vampire?

Anyway, she looked at the hooded person more than the victim. If his show was ruined, he would strike David. So she readied her concentration to activate her Darkling Trickery to help David escape the Vampire's wrath if it came to this. He was walking quickly, so she couldn't whisper and expect to be heard by him, so she said, maybe a little too loud: Be careful David! If he's an old one, he will be very angry that you are trying to ruin his show!

Thinking about that, if he's an old one, he would be exactly what Viviane was seeking. She can't accept murder and would not want David to be hurt by him, but her curiosity just made her want to hear what the warehouse owner would say or do next. She hoped most Vampire that were now at their back were not hungry or it would turn into a frenzied party!
A slow clap.

“How unimpressive,” said Helen, who lingered by the entry to the room with two of her boys. Her voice was loud and clear, practised at conference speeches, so she didn’t need a microphone to be audible. She had watched the crowd sip slowly inside the building, so she’d got out of the car and quietly slipped into the warehouse – just in time to witness the entire Rocky-Horror-Picture-Showesque murder business and reactions that followed. Should she be worried? Disappointed? It’s probably in bad style to criticize  your customers, but...

“A pathetic attempt to scare neonates. I hoped for some more serious attitude.” Only then she addressed the entire congregation. “Good evening, Kindred.”
Mud noticed the sharp-dressed woman a little too late (at least to his own standards, that was). That's to say, only when she spoke did he register her arrival. And what words she chose, indeed. The only place he'd ever saw those words mentioned were in the archived reports he'd been made to wade through by Rotface.

He look aside, peering out from under the hoodie he wore. Mighty interesting choice of words there, miss. That's rather old time-y chique. He didn't sound impressed, not could one really mistake him for bored. He was, as indicated by his words, interested. That stuff is SOOO pre-millennial., he jeered. Then again, this show has even more of a patina than even those words, that much IS true.
Helen fixed her gaze upon the Nosferatu. Up close, he looked even more revulsive and oily than from distance. What was that Fabron used to say about them?

One of the lesser Clans, echoed through her head. Don’t ever let them see you’re baffled by their appearance. That’s exactly what they aim for. Nor disregard them. They’re a necessary evil, I’m afraid. Allow us to keep our hands clean, so to speak. Appease them and use them.

She blinked. Her expression remained unmoved.

“If nineteen years seem a long time to you, wait until you survive for another hundred or so; you may change opinions,” she said in cool, indifferent voice and revered her sight back to the shadowy figure. Then again, you are probably right about the show, Sewer Rat, she thought.

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