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You all meet in a warehouse...
#1
The location

The warehouse was on the Northern edge of the city, on the banks of the Chattahoochee river. A large, square building, most likely conceived to store goods. A smaller portion, however, was meant for people; to host meetings, more specifically, in a hall furnished with a hyper-modern, icily-cold simplicity. This, at least, what one could see from the windows, since the door - the one that by all means looked like their entrance - was still locked at that hour. Muffled noises from inside - not from the meeting hall, but somewhere in the depth of the warehouse. Ongoing preparations?

This what the early comers would see. This and a spacious parking area, where they could leave their vehicles and perhaps look for other guests - other kindred spirits?
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#2
Scowling at a small flyer clutched in one hand, Gao was largely lost in thought. The drab interior of the bus, all the muted color of metal aside from the flaking yellow paint on the poles near the doors and the long faded colors of the seat cushion lent an impoverished air to the vehicle, to say nothing of small scattering of homeless trying to ride out the still fading heat of the day.

One night only, the flyer read, covered in somewhat garish red text super imposed over the picture of a cow. Gao's scowl deepened further. It was bad enough, he pondered to himself, to be treated like some sort of pariah simply for his eating habits. Having to stoop to buying animal blood to fall back on was even worse. "You just know they track those purchases, he muttered to himself.

Several more minutes passed before the bus made Gao's stop. His sudden rise from an unintentionally still pose and moody stalking towards the door sent a homeless woman scuttling away in fear. Gao rolled his eyes in disgust and adjusted his glasses. It was going to be one of those nights.

Stepping off the bus, Gao's free hand dropped immediately to his phone, which illuminated his face in an eerily red-shifted manner. The email had been anonymous, merely giving a place, date, time, and subject. Some vampires might have been taken aback, but it wasn't like Gao's internet presence was hard to find, and the email address involved on his end was very public. Still, it might have been a trap, and due to that (rather large in Gao's mind) chance, he was on alert, even as he double checked the directions.

He spied the appointed place with little trouble. Industrial parks were often hard to navigate, but they also tended to have their addresses in really large signage. The parking lot was pretty much empty. There was no sign yet of other attendees. Gao's sense for bad ideas was ticking in his head like a geiger counter. He hung back a bit, watching for signs of the presence of others, or for anything out of the ordinary.

"Great. How did I get here first," the Neonate muttered to himself in annoyance, casting his gaze about as if actively looking for trouble, "The one fucking time I want you to take your usual goddamned time, and I'm fucking early. Thanks MARTA. Really doin' me dry here."

Shaking his head, he approached the parking lot more directly, heading towards the lights of the building proper. Might as well wait there and present an appealing target. Besides, he reasoned, if there were trouble, better to have his back to a wall, rather than to any potential threats.
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#3
He'd gotten the mail a bit back. And it irked him. Not that he had gotten it, it had arrived through the 'right' channel. No, it was the fact he couldn't trace it all the way back. He'd gotten three or four 'hops' in before the trail went dark. And that, well, that didn't sit well with him. It had also stoked his curiosity high enough to override his paranoia.

She he had 'dressed for success': his whiter-than-whites with the oiled-up skin. Hoodie, track pants, trainer shoes. All pristine, with not even a brand name on them. Well, there were, but he'd bleached the shit out of them to get them that damn white, so you'd have to look really careful, and the light just right, to spot the Adidas logo at all. Just the way he liked it.

He had travelled 'above ground', for the most part. First with the Rapid Transit away from his 'home', later, he took to walking. He didn't like the bus. They were smelly. So, he arrived on the edge of a substantial, and really empty, parking lot. Which he obviously had to traverse completely, because why put the damned building on the town-side of the premises.... Damn urban 'planners'....

Once he rounded the building, he saw one other person. He could safely go with 'person', too. 'T was hard to make out anything besides that, really. Oh, and pale too. Vamp-person, then, most likely. Would be fitting with the event he was here for, he gathered. Evenin'. This where we make ourselves known or something? They stuck you with door duty?
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#4
She gets out of the taxii, absentmindely giving a thumbs up to the driver, as she re-read the email that she recieved. This is hardly the first crypt email she ever recieved but normally her crypt email make remarks about her body, her song or her life, not talks about the future of vampires. This had made her curious enough to actually go to the location marked on it.

She was dressed quite casually compared to what she usually wear, all that she had was a purse, knee high boots, a blue sweater and a purple skirt.

She walks by the two others already there without paying much attention as her mind is listening to the Fugue.
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#5
Of all the times she actually cared to check texts from unknown senders, Storm had to look at that one. Bizarre. Cryptic. A little exciting if not somewhat creepy? But her schedule was hardly full these days; not like there was a college to attend or a job shift to work. Well, no. That was incorrect. Stormy did have a job. Although being a hospital security guard during the night shift hardly spoke to her artistic soul.

This SMS . . . almost did.

So she splurged, coming to this unknown storage warehouse on the Northern edge of the city, overlooking the Chattahoochee river. Typically square, very large - the usual - owner compensating for something. Having paid the cabby, Storm walked toward the building, deciding to enter through what appeared to be, the main door. It took a couple of minutes to traverse the spacious parking zone, thick rubber soles of her combat boots treading the asphalt with innate, easy grace.

Walking up to the door, she attempted to enter but found it locked. "What is the point of issuing an invitation if you keep your guests standing outside?" she murmured to herself, forehead creasing in mild dismay. There were windows to look through, but Storm did not care; pivoting on her heel like a carefree dancer, she plastered her back against one of the latter and pulled out her smartphone - no doubt to play mobile games or run through meaningless emails.

Ears perked up every now and then, picking up unfamiliar, stray noises from the inside - although the Toreador could not be bothered with those just now - busying herself with every intent of passing level nine hundred and ninety nine, on Candy Crush Saga Ultimate!
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#6
He pulled into the lot and parked.  He was sure this was a trap of some kind for vampires but he couldn't resist the call to a potential betterment of his unlife. he looked around in his driver seat spotting the others. "What the hell, why is everyone outside? We holding a meeting exposed like this?" He took the breath he didn't need as he grabbed his journal and got out of the car.  

He was wearing black work boots, black jeans, and a grey tee.  His tattoo sleeves being walls of variable flowers, from
red and blue roses to lilacs: dahlia's and orchids his arms covered in variable colors almost as variable as the amount of flowers on his arms.
He walked over and past everyone silently until he met the same wall storm did.  But he stayed to the other side keeping his distance from her as well.  Figuring everyone was still waiting he pulled out his journal and started sketching something even as he spoke out.  "So, there a reason why this meeting of cloak and dagger BS has half a dozen vampires all waiting out in the open?
anyone try knocking yet?
"
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#7
She’d been observing the building from a distance.

First, she watched her boys making the delivery. A small truck with no logos parked at the backdoor and unloaded the juicebags. The boys rushed them inside. Later, she was told everything went smoothly: the collection, the payment. We could use more contracts like this, they said. She asked whether they saw anything suspicious inside. They shrugged.

Then the truck drived away, while Helen stayed in a black BMW with darkened windows, lights and engine off, parked in a side-street across from the warehouse. She’d made sure not to come hungry (but can a Kindred ever NOT be hungry? said malignant little voice in the back of her head) – not that she doesn’t trust their own stock, but on a meeting like this it is better not to get too preoccupied with consumption. Stay alert, Helen, this whole thing smells rotten, and you know rotten first-hand.

‘You goin’, Queen Ma?’ asked the driver, sitting lazily behind the wheel. She hated how he called her ‘Ma’, like in ‘Ma Baker’, but on the other hand – it was better than being called a ‘milf’.

‘Not yet,’ replied the Kindred, observing a forming crowd at the front door: an edgy teenager, an oily Nosferatu in shining white garbs – she vaguely recalled the two, but what was it?... Ah, yes! One of the boys had shown her some rubbish ‘vampire blogs,’ probably trying to impress her. Fat chance! Like she would be interested in some ranty cry-baby nonsense. You should make your own fortune, not whine about others not making it for you. And the other one was some totally unimportant stuff, poor smartass reviews of some sort. She didn’t remember which wrote which, though.

More showed up: an absent-minded looking lady, and a second one, more flashy, but certainly easy on the eyes. Then a car rolled into the parking lot and a guy hopped out of it – a guy that could easily fit into the Rippers, at least by appearance.

‘You’re not attending, chief?’ asked Charlie, sited to her left. ‘Changed your mind?’

Helen let out an irritated sigh, but then she smiled warmly to him. Too warmly.

‘You expect me to stand there in the crowd and wait meekly for admittance like common folk? I don’t think so. Besides, if the commotion is going to attract any unwanted attention, we’ve never been here, right?’

Charlie nodded and focused back on his smartphone. Helen kept observing.
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#8
The Girl did not like sharing her personal space, but when it came to public grounds, she had to concede and give up territory. Not a big deal? She had just cleared a game level she was stuck on for the past two weeks, bringing on a wave of congeniality. Corner glance swept over the guy to the other side of her; all grunge and no fun. And those tattooed sleeves... Tackier than her grandpa's basement. And so careful, as if she would bite? Well, bite she did, and certain he was aware of that fact, probably did not care to share. Then again, his muscles were like vice - impossible to conceal unless he wore an over sized trench coat - which he did not.

An artist of some kind? Further observation glimpsed the guy drawing something on a pad of paper, a diary of sorts... Storm was tempted to steal a glance but did not want him spooked. He gave off the air of his bark being worse than his bite, but she had been wrong before. Then again, he spoke all of the sudden, inviting a cheeky reply from his plucky blonde neighbor.

"I was thinking of breaking the door knob, but did not wanna offend ya'll silent-but-deadly mucky mucks loitering about. Not exactly the best way to make friends, ya know?" Her head canted deep in the direction of Isaac's journal, keen on getting an eyeful of what it was he seemed so intent on imitating. "Plus, didn't figure you to be the kind that knocked, but if you want to impress me - color me inspired," she grinned, winking boldly in the Brujah's direction before turning back to her phone and tapping in a few quick notes into its bulky innards.
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#9
The question put to him had received an absent minded shake of the head, as if it weren't worth addressing. Without a polite method of entry, Gao had seemed entirely content to stare at his phone, the red shifted, low frequency light casting his features in a deep red light. It was only being called the suggestion of violence that snapped him back to reality. His eyes went first to the feminine voice that had called him a mucky muck. He raised one far-too-attentively groomed eyebrow and sighed dramatically, as if he were put upon just having to hear that sort of language.

His eyes moved slowly across the arrivals that were nearby. The man who asked about knocking but hadn't bothered to knock on his own looked like he might be trouble. The distracted woman in the skirt looked like she might be sensible. Then there was the one in the hoodie who looked...

Gao's eyes bulged wide in surprise at the foul creature, staring at it in disbelief, unable to look away. God, how he wanted to look away.

"Christ," the words were almost a hiss, the soft and feminine voice clashing with an almost casually aggressive tone and cadence. "what the fuck happened to you?" Gao shook his head, as if shrugging off the question, but kept his gaze on the Nosferatu a few moments longer before casting it back across the group.

"Look, if you people want to go in, don't let me stop you." His eyes try to meet the gaze of the tattooed man in the black jeans, "but... man, I'm not gonna knock for you." Gao's expression moved naturally into a smirk, though his body language remained relaxed. Casual, generally dismissive, entirely unrefined, but not actually confrontational.

One last quick look at the Nosferatu, his expression intensely curious before his gaze fixes back on the man he'd just goaded, however playfully. You never knew with these fuckers.
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#10
David had planned to be a little earlier than he eventually turned out to be. The scenic route had been congested due to road works on the main road, which he hadn't counted on. Luckily he was on a motorcycle, and it wasn't as busy as it was during the day. But still, it had cost him an extra ten minutes or so. When he arrived, there was already a small group forming at the door, and one car in the parking lot. He pulled up near the cluster of people, his bike not making that much of a ruckus, but still loud enough to lend it a little roar. The bike was a pretty bare-bones, silvery-colored street bike, and aside from a few spots where it was obvious there had been a few dents, it was very well maintained.

He dismounted, and as he walked over to the others, he undid and pulled off his leather gloves, which he tucked into his jacket pocket. He looked over the gathering as it stood before him. It didn't look like a lot, but hey, it was what it was. G'evnin' all y'all. From the sound of it, this young man had more than likely grown up if not in this city, the nat least awfully damn close to it. I know it's nice out, but this here flyer mentioned a building, which i gather to be that 'un over there. So, smoke break? He joked, or at least he thought he did. A little.

He recognized ... nobody, really. Which was no big surprise, he had only met two other vampires in all his time as one. And neither was there, obviously. Or, maybe it was: 'not yet'.
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