No. Nty. Bad Rogues. Date: May 22, 2013 Time: 9:30pm Location: Warehouse, Docklands Characters: Guillaume d'Anjou, Eleanor Nichols Description: Erm, boss? Got an issue. Status: Private. in progress
He'd half-expected it to have been on fire when he arrived. At least that would have made some sort of sense. Instead, Guillaume fumed, as he prowled the roof tops on the other side of the street from his violated warehouse, all he had was eight dead mercenaries, one dead vampire, and another that couldn't talk.
That and the scroll was gone.
He walked over to the small brick guard that lined the lip of the roof, considering the angles. This was likely where they'd taken out the first cameras. He kept his eye on the ruined devices and felt around his feet, before his fingers closed around a bullet casing. Yep, this was the place. He suddenly lashed out in pure frustration, his hand punching through the guard in a shower of masonry, as the bullet he held inside it cut painfully into his palm.
They must have been a crack shot to hit those cameras with a 9mm from here, beyond human. With a silencer no doubt, which meant that the odds of actually making the shots each time disqualified ordinary men. He was probably dealing with vampires, and he had a good idea who they may be. Not the people themselves of course. If that were the case, he'd already be elbow-deep in their blood. But he knew that there was a nest of rogues here in Crescent Cove, causing all manner of problems with the mortals. Now they'd more or less declared open war on Eleanor, too, which meant him as well. A poor decision, one they would soon learn to regret.
Still, it troubled him how they'd remained hidden. His network of intelligence came up with nothing, and even a request for assistance to his old friend, Valerian, had come up dry. It was as if they were ghosts. Sighing, he pulled the phone from his pocket, dialing the only number it had on it.
"We have a problem, my love," he said, and gave her the address, before hanging up. As he made his way back to the warehouse, his hand already healed from punching through the wall, he wondered if things weren't a little more complicated than he thought.