Amadeus Lazarus (sanguinemagic) wrote in nybynightic, @ 2021-01-16 19:51:00 |
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It was just one of the many reasons he had to not like Lucian Carlyle and his way of trying to do things. A way that the Justicar thought had opened the door for the mess that was occurring in the city.
A mess that he was going to see was cleaned up.
So a meeting had been called. It was not a full-blown convention but representatives from Chicago and Boston were in attendance. After all, a Justicar coming to lay judgments upon a nearby Camarilla city was no small thing. Neither were some of the things they had heard had been happening within the city. Hunters were a problem for all Kindred and they did not need them turning their attention towards them. The whole of the Primogen council had been called in alongside their Prince and even the Sheriff was made to attend—as thick in the mess of the city as he was as he tried to take care of it.
Glass windows. A long table in the center of it with several chairs around it. It could have been any board room in any building. The Ivory Tower had one just like it but this was not the Ivory Tower. Justicar Stuart had decided to have the meeting on “neutral” ground. Though it was hard to consider it neutral ground when the building was Ventrue owned, just not by any of the Ventrue in question in the current room.
“It’s been Camarilla law for thirteen years now that Kindred are to have nothing to do with online communications and yet you, Prince Carlyle, decided to take it upon yourself—and against your council’s knowledge—to resurrect SchreckNET here in your city,” Stuart started.
Amadeus wished that he could tune it all out. He would have if it wasn’t for the fact that he needed to be aware in case the Justicar decided to bring him in on what was being said. It didn’t get much deeper into political bureaucratic nonsense than this. Playing the game that was the Camarilla was one thing but this—this was a whole other thing that made him glad that he wasn’t a Primogen who had to deal with this on a regular basis. A thought that made him look over at the Kindred that he had a hand in pushing towards becoming a Primogen and did have to put up with this kind of nonsense on an almost daily basis.
Having to deal with this kind of nonsense on a daily basis didn't mean that Micah was any more tolerant of it, quite the contrary in fact—he simply learned to hide it better.
The furrows in Lucian's brow could almost meet in a single line, as was the look of displeasure and frustration. Micah understood much of it. A man like Lucian was used to getting his way, he was definitely not one to take kindly to being publicly reprimanded for what he perceived was a greater good---even if the reopening of shreckNET still remained the single most controversial thing he had done since becoming Prince. Micah looked instead at Amadeus, catching the sheriff's eyes and disdain quite plainly visible there. He said nothing, but even without words, Amadeus knew Micah well enough to recognise his expression of tried patience.
As Lucian turned on the Justicar once again, to rather loudly reiterate his reasons—compelling as he insisted they were—Micah looked at Amadeus and subtly shook his head. It was not their place to defend the Prince. This decision was Lucian's. And if the Justicar's ultimate position was that it had been a mistake, then hanging out a Prince to dry would not be the least Micah did to ensure that there were still functional members in the upper echelons of Kindred society to keep the city going.
Amadeus gave a slight nod of his head—both as acknowledgment and agreement. Over their years here in the city, they had seen Princes come and go. Lucian would just be one more who hadn’t been able to hang on to his hard won prize, though his time in doing so had certainly been shorter than most. The ambitions of one who should have listened to his elders. For all of the Prince’s talk of seeing younger Kindred step up into places of power, New York was still held strongly in the hands of it’s Elders.
Besides, to defend Lucian now would just mean going down with him. Something no one in this room was even willing to consider whether they supported the things he had done or not.
Maybe one of them should have pointed out to the Prince that arguing with a Justicar was pointless. Especially as fiercely and loudly as Carlyle was doing now. Used to getting his way, the Ventrue Prince seemed to be unable to help himself while the Justicar’s face was a completely blank slate while Lucian was now defending his choices on the fact that there was no proof that shreckNET was the reason for Hunters of St Leopold being in the city other than a random email from a treacherous dead ghoul.
It caused the Sheriff to look at Micah and roll his eyes in a manner so that no one else would see it.It was a look that soon turned into a raised eyebrow as he was close enough to the Primogen to hear the quiet vibration of the Ventrue’s phone going off while the heated argument of their Prince filed the rest of the noise in the room.
Ordinarily, Micah would not allow himself to be distracted at such meetings. Dreadful as they were, they did demand a sort of decorum; he was Primogen of the Clan Ventrue, and as such, the position afforded certain appearances to upkeep, remainly politely attentive—if secretly disengaged—was still expected behavior.
But in the midst of Justicar Stuart’s impassive look and his merciless faulting of Lucian for drawing attention to the Kindred with the reckless reinstatement of ShreckNET—an argument they had all heard millions of times before—another message went off on his phone, and two more in quick succession. And finally, as his phone ceased for a moment just in time before it drew the ire of the Justicar, Micah heard a similar buzz go off just in the vicinity.
Someone was desperate to reach him or Amadeus, it seemed. Or both.
The curious look on Amadeus’ face turned into a frown as his own phone went off. Most knew right now to only get a hold of him if it was something dire that could not wait until later. And for Micah’s phone to have kept going off and now his own—he had a feeling of creeping dread at who it was. Despite any looks that might be coming from the head of the table, Amadeus pulled out his phone and looked.
Rats in the wall.
Followed by another message.
Get him out NOW.
Amadeus looked up from his phone and looked at Micah before inclining his head and mouthing Julian at him causing a flicker of something to pass on Micah’s expression before he heard a loud clearing of a throat and then silence in the room.
“Sheriff Lazarus is there a problem that you’d like to share with the rest of us,” the Justicar asked, sounding very much like a school teacher who had just caught a student passing notes or using their phone in the classroom.
Any other time Amadeus would have gotten annoyed with that tone being used with him but right now he had bigger concerns as he was trying to quickly work through what Julian’s words meant. “Actually there is,” he stated as he started to raise up out of his seat. “I suggest that this may be better continued another time.”
It was unlike Julian to disturb him when he knew what this meeting was about. It had been all that they discussed for the better part of the last week, so it was impossible that Julian could have forgotten that this time was off-limits. For him to attempt to reach Micah regardless, coupled with the look of urgency on Amadeus’ face—it was enough to set alarm bells ringing.
Micah wasn’t about to step in to argue with the Justicar, but he reached for his phone and scanned the messages that he received from Julian with an increasing sense of foreboding.
I figured it out. The Justicar is not the threat.
Just one of the puzzle pieces. The Justicar, the boardroom, the rats in the walls.
They are there, Micah. You have to leave now.
Micah, took at your damn phone. Get Amadeus and get out of there before it’s too late.
I swear if you die on me, Micah...
Don’t die with them. Please don’t die with them. Check your phone and get out of there!!
A sense of surrealism took over, amidst the palpable worry and anxiety flooding through the words visible on his screen. Micah cleared his throat, pushing aside pretences of formality for now. There was no time—no way of knowing how long they had. He stood up abruptly, drawing the attention of everyone else in the room. "This meeting has been compromised, they know we're all here—"
NOW flashed as one more warning across Amadeus’ phone before he heard it: the soft beep of the explosives set in the room being activated. There wasn’t time to think. There wasn’t time to make a choice—not that there really was one to make.
The elder Tremere reached out and grabbed a hold of Micah just as the explosives went off, whisking them both out of the room, but not before getting to feel the press of scorching heat all around them as he did. The roaring sound of it was still ringing in his ears even as they reappeared a couple of blocks away.
Any thoughts of leaving Micah and going back for anyone else were quickly forgotten as Amadeus looked back at the destruction. Unlike the Blue Velvet, there was no going back in. Even if it was possible, there was no reason too. There was no way anyone inside could have survived the blast.
In the distance, the Ballard Tower stood in stark relief against the black night sky, a brilliant, fierce ember that swallowed the entire top half of the building. Even from where they were, Micah could sense the heat emanating, all around and singeing his skin—no, that was back in the building.
The Kine around them were staring too, not at the two of them that had appeared in the chaos, but with open-mouthed awe at the sight of yet another tragedy in this unfortunate city, every single one of them pointing, gaping but not a single one with any clue what to do. Movement at the corner of his vision brought Micah back to the present, to Amadeus—the Tremere he now owed a life-debt to, he supposed—and the way the other elder wasn’t quite standing upright.
Micah held a hand out, an attempt to support, but it became immediately obvious why the Sheriff didn’t look quite right. “You’re hurt.” The explosion had happened without giving them any time to react, it didn’t escape Micah’s knowledge that had Amadeus not reached for him in time—had he obeyed instinct for flight the moment the devastating click sounded around them instead of going against that to drag him along—the Tremere would have gotten away in time, possibly without being burnt as badly as he was now.
He took Amadeus’ unhurt arm and placed it around his shoulder, taking much of the other kindred’s weight. “Come on, we’ve got to get out of here.” There was no telling whose eyes were around, and the both of them were exposed. Far too exposed. “I know a place we can go for now.”
There had been no time to shield. Not time to put up any kind of magic that would have saved him from taking any damage from the blast. Just that moment to escape before anything worse could happen. It had been a long time since Amadeus Lazarus had felt the sting of fire, so used to walking through it unscathed that to feel it now was a shock. A shock that took his body a few minutes to even catch up to the fact that he was hurt until Micah pointed it out and then was keeping him from falling over.
“I probably have enough in me to teleport us but—” Well, he didn’t know where Micah had in mind and it was probably best to hold off in case they needed another quick exit. Someone had obviously meant to get them all with that blast. Someone who wouldn’t like it to know that two of them had gotten out. The look on Micah’s face brooked no argument either. The Tremere had gotten them out. But he was injured now and there was no telling when they would have need to use the last of Amadeus’ abilities.
“But nothing,” he interrupted. “No one will bother us. For now.” And sure enough, as they moved silently through the crowd gathering on the open street—a hundred different faces watching and gawking—no one moved to stop them. In fact, they seemed to pay Micah and Amadeus no mind whatsoever, and the few that did stop to properly look at them found their attention directed elsewhere almost immediately—an effect of Micah, mostly likely.
Amadeus didn’t even want to think about what it meant for them that not only was their Prince dead, but a Justicar had died in their city. No, right now it was better to focus on getting out of here and laying low.
Micah was inclined to agree. Tonight, more than ever, there was a need for caution.