Vancouver Nightbane

The thing about wandering around on the upper levels of the hotel is that you're bound to eventually stumble upon the other club. Or at least the bouncer, standing in front of the doors. She's in Facade, just in case a human happens to stumble up here. With the elevator codes the only way to do so would be to take the fire escape, but a runaway kid has done it once or twice before.

Humans and the untransformed will not be allowed to pass, needless to say. It's for their own good. It takes a lot of preparing, to be ready for what's inside.

Something about Erikson simply fascinates Sean. He doesn't know quite what it is, but his theories on the ego and developement through crises are some of Sean's favorite ideas in the world of psychology.
So, he looks around the store, hoping to find something new and insightful regarding Erikson. And finally, after a few floors of searching the bookstore without seeing another soul, he finds an entire section on the Neo-Freudians and their ideas. He picks up a book about the ego and begins to leaf through it.

I'll never get used to this. Nick shrugs a little deeper into her coat as she hikes back up from the beach. It couldn't have been later than five-thirty, but the sunlight is already half gone, and she can't help feeling terribly disoriented by it all. She picks up her pace a little as the sight of the giant hollow tree trunk looms up ahead. Getting lost here after dark like a moron would be all I fucking need right now.

What do you do when you're having guests? You make sure your hoem isn't incredibly filthy, and you make sure you have food. He's accomplished one, and now he's accomplishing the other. Roman is waiting for the elevator in the lobby, clutching three bags from Safeway and a plastic jug of milk.

Plus, it's almost Easter. He'd needed to get people their chocolate eggs, before the prices got marked up.

He hated the cold.  Hated the rain, the endless drizzle, and why the fuck did he forget an umbrella now of all days?

James switched the shopping bag ('Hey, kid, get me some asprin, will ya?  Killer fuckin' headache') filled with gas station drugs into his other hand, humming softly to himself and glancing behind him.  Since when did it get so dark?  The hairs on the back of his neck stood up, before he shook his head and pulled his collar up higher.  Nothing was wrong.  Just a kid in a dark, rainy, unfamiliar neighborhood, hundreds of miles away from home.

Nothing was wrong at all.

It's eleven-thirty at night. The sun is long gone. Further in town, the streets are bright, but the patch of city Ehren's walking in is dark; the brightest light is the moon's reflection on the water. Ehren is half-drunk and sleepy-eyed, walking and smoking and looking up to watch the sky.

Gray doesn't usually take these shifts, but he's got a knee injury this week that is kind of keeping him away from other duties he'd usually attend to. Which is why he's leaning back against the counter, cleaning glasses, and thanking every lucky star individually and by name for the fact that it's a Tuesday, so there are comparatively few people about.

Which makes it an unusually nice place for a quiet drink, after a long day.

"What can I get ya'?"

"Come one, come all, to the greatest show on earth!"

It was an old schtick, and James knew it, but it was pretty much required.  He was dressed in a red and black spandex uniform and small black shoes.  There was a bit of black paint on his face, styled in a fashion that practically screamed 'carnie'.   He was wearing special grip-gloves that prevented his palms from slipping against the damp concrete.  Oh, and he was walking on his hands as if they were more comfortable than his feet, carousing up and down his small portion of the sidewalk.

He was 'standing' just outside of the fairgrounds, inside which a medium sized carnival was set up.  There were some old, rickety rides, a few food tents, the obvious freak show, and a couple of stages, each of which had a small schedule posted to each one.

"Shows start in an hour!  Don't miss your chance to see the strange!  The peculiar!  The inhuman!  This time only, kids under five get in free!"

Ho hum.  Brilliant smile painted on, James just wished that he didn't have to do this every stop.

"Hmm. I need to find a place to stay for the night I think."
Sean strolls up to the bus stop, examining the map to find the best place for hotels. He's there for a while, but not too long. He doesn't want to look suspicious, after all.

There's a man - looks to be around 18 or 19 - standing on the street corner and smoking. He's wearing a brown sportcoat over a navy t-shirt, jeans, new sneakers and a green scarf; he's smoking American Spirits. Three minutes pass before he's finished with his cigarette. When he's satisfied, he drops it to the ground and stubs it out with his toe, turning to look up at the sky once before crossing the street. The light's red, but there's an important meeting someone has to get to, and so a car comes careening around the corner right as Ehren's in the middle of the road. The driver slams on the brakes and the horn simultaneously; Ehren is walking and then he's down, face against pavement.

Recently opened, in Vancouver, just near Victory Square where East Hastings turns into West Hastings and runs into Cambie, there is a hotel. A monstrous hotel. A high hotel. A beautiful hotel with glass doors and pristine windows, corinthian colemns and arches.

In the bottom of the hotel is a coffee shop, right off the lobby. Upstairs, there's a chique restaurant- everyone's been meaning to try it, the buzz is significant. The floors above that are all rooms, presumeably.

Behind the desk in the lobby is a smiling woman, waiting to provide information. The small gold nametag pinned to her lapel reads 'Jiwon.'

Let the games begin.