Logs:Blessings of Bathory - Mysterious Mr. Blackwell

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Blessings of Bathory - Mysterious Mr. Blackwell
Dramatis Personae

Jackson. Dove, Candle as ST

2 February, 2018


Jackson and Dove go to meet a buyer of the Skull

Location

A Park


Jackson has explained some of this to Dove, already. What he’s doing the plan, but there’s some final questions before they actually get there. “What do you need to track someone? You can, yeah?” It’s a curious questions during the ride out there. Once there, he parks, taking out the bag with the skull sized object in it. He isn’t completely stealthy about it, it’s on a bag, no one really needs to know what it is, it isn’t that odd. He’s dressed, as he often is, wife beater, jeans, and a leather jacket, despite the cold. It doesn’t seem to bother him and it shows off his ink. He could very well belong to some sort of criminal organization, like a gang. They reach the spot agreed upon and he waits, looking to Dove.


Dark as it might be, Jackson can see the reflection of light in Dove's eyes, much like a cat's. He's seen it before, it's probably no surprise. "Well, there's a couple ways to do it. There's a ritual that I can do, but you already know that I can't give you specifics on how I do it. Just that I'd need to get close enough to get a little vitae on them." Positioning is important. She scans the area, eyes never settling on one spot for too long. "The other is just tracking through scent. A little harder if they get into a car, but lucky for you, I can keep up with a car."


“No you can’t, not without being ridiculously obvious and breaking the Masquerade. So that’s not an option, really. Let’s maybe do this the old fashioned way before that, huh?” Jackson nudges her with a little shake of his head. He does seem to take that law rather seriously. A grin spreads to his face though as eyes go out over the area too, getting the lay of the land. “And yeah, I don’t need specific, just what you need, but both of those options aren’t the easiest to pull off. I thought maybe just some of their hair or something. I could probably do that.” He’s also wearing leather gloves that might just be biker gloves, hard to say.


"Well, I mean, if I get seen." Dove rolls her eyes a little with a smirk, leaning in to bite his shoulder. "But I guess the old fashioned way can work. If you know how to old fashioned track them." A brow arches at the mention of hair. "Voodoo dolls aren't MY kind of magic," she offers with a pointed look in his direction. She's stepping away from him, then, starting to move around and check for others who might have come early and may be listening. Can't be too careful.


There's a man seated at the appointed location, a small bench looking out over the open public rink. He's an older gentleman with a bit of grey in his hair dressed in a suit and wearing a thick black coat. It would seem that he is your contact for the exchange.

Jackson does his own bit of scouting in the opposite direction before making it back to the man in black once he’s seated at the bench. A glance to find Velvet, though he lets her do whatever she chooses, now that they are split up, but makes sure she sees him, and then Jackson walks towards the bench. The bag and its bulge are clearly in view. Then he sits down beside the man without saying anything. It’s a public bench. He sets the bag between them, but Jackson’s hand stays on it protectively.


While Jackson does his thing, Dove is going to move around the area, keeping her eyes peeled for anyone else that might be lingering nearby. Her eyes catch Jacks' as he glances over, giving him a little headbob from afar. She'll watch out from over here so that they don't spook the guy. After Jackson approaches the bench and sets the parcel down, the man withdraws a slender yet thick manila envelope from his jacket and set it on the bench between them. Without another word the man stands and starts to stroll away.

The bag isn’t taken? That’s strange, but then again, people don’t pay you for nothing, either. Jackson is very aware of the way the world works. He looks up, curiously at the man, but says nothing. He was bluffing him anyway. A look for Dove, and a flicker of his head at the man. Hopefully she gets the meaning. For his part, he opens up the envelope and peeks in. Curious.


The envelope is stuffed with cut bits of paper to make it look like a stack of money - even the edges are dyed to match. Once you empty the contents or rip open the package to retrieve the contents you'll notice that it contains two things. One...is a cellphone. The other is a small lump of what looks to be clay. Odd little thing because some damn fool has put wires on it with two vials of silvery-liquid stuck to the side. ... and the phone rings.


Jackson is very careful with the package. No accidentally touching mirror shards, or the like. He doesn’t remove anything, but carefully digs around in the package. Not at first anyway. Seeing the clay thing, he frowns ever so slightly. He knows a bomb, or the looks of a bomb when he sees one. Cute. The phone rings and Jackson studies the landscape, maybe noting where people are. He does, gently pull out the phone and answer it.


Is she watching what's going on? Of course she is! The man is getting up and starting to walk away. He doesn't have the package, and that's immediately suspicious. She shifts out of the trees, stumbling right into him with an oof. "Sorry," she mutters as a pinprick of vitae gets smeared into his clothes. She continues forward, moving off towards the bench where Jackson is seated. Nope, she doesn't spot the bomb, too distracted.


A soft yet firm voice speaks on the phone with Jackson. A faint hint of a European accent may be identified within the caller but it's probably one who's lived in the states that it's only marginally noticable now. "So, before you leave this world - please tell me why you tried to lie to me?" The device in the package is definitely a bomb but it's large enough to do damage in a very small circle. It is, however, enough to probably kill whomever was next to it.


Jackson immediately shakes his head at Dove. Warning her away maybe. Then flickering his head towards the man again, like trying to signal something. But that’s all the effort he gives before listening to the man speaking. “I wanted to meet the man so interested in this item. I wanted to know why.” A glance around the area again, Jackson’s voice is low, but somewhat intimidating. “Since I’m leaving this world soon, I guess we have nothing to hide.” He starts folding the manila envelope. Compressing it carefully, maybe to make it easier to throw. His Celerity already activating for speed. “So tell me, what’s your interest in it? There are some other very interested parties.”


The man who dropped off the package makes his way towards the parking lot by this point in the conversation with Jackson. "My interest is in recovering that which was stolen from me. I do not like loose..." and before he can finish the sentence the man falls over as though he stumbled but he's not getting up. "...ends."


“I can still get you the item, but I am also aware of what it does. I didn’t open your bag, but someone else did.” Jackson speaks easily into the phone. He sounds unworried. He sets the manila envelope on the bench beside him. The best place, perhaps, for it to go off. He also leaves the bag he has, it’s useless to him now. “Mr. Blackwell, isn’t it? What can you tell me of the people protecting it, and what I can only assume is the lady after your possessions? That’s my only interest.” A glance to the man down the way. “Cute.”

You know the issue with an overly emotional bloodline? The overly emotional part. Hazel eyes widen as her ears pick up the coversation going on the phone, Dove staring at Jackson as he just sits there with the bomb. Palm sliced open, she's already begun to chant to herself, smearing the blood all across her face and chest. She's in front of him in a moment, leaning forward with a quick, hard kiss. Distraction maybe as her had reaches out to snatch the bomb. "I love you, idiot," she mutters before she's gone in a flash, heading for the most secure spot she can find. That dumpster will do!


"I can tell you that it will no longer be your concern after a few moments. More's the pity. I might have been able to use someone on the ground there. With recent events shaping as there, I am -loathed- to return to the cold." A beeping sound can be heard through the phone and he covers the mouth piece for a moment before getting back to you. "If you were somehow able to survive I should say that you should avoid the storms as best you can. Well... I shall say avoir and adieu...Mr. Jones."


The kiss is not met with any kind of kindness, but annoyance. He warned her away. When she takes the bomb, his eyes widen. And in place of annoyance, is anger flaring. Anger at her. He does not show that kind of anger very often. It might reflect into the phone call. “You have made the wrong enemy Mr. Blackwell, and I intend to make you regret it. We could have been allies.” A pause as he watches Dove, and then whether he still has the man, he says with some heat into the phone. “I recommend staying in whatever hole you are in because I am going to be turning over some rocks.” Maybe he’s buying her time to do what she’s doing. “And I assure you this is not goodbye. See you soon, Blacky. Real soon.”


It's likely that Dove wasn't expecting anything except for that anger, which is probably why her face is turning away so quickly. She's a blur in the Celerity, dumping the bomb into the dumpster and continuing on. Thankfully, on the cameras she's already be a blur, now she's just a faster one. The people? Well, she can't really do anything about that right now. She'll bring herself in front of the Prince for punishment later, assuming she survives.

The phone line doesn't go dramatically silent after Jackson's final words. Rather, it's muffled once again, *He did what?* can partially be heard through the phone and then the man seems to be speaking at Jackson once more. "Mr. Jones are you there? I say, Mr. Jones?" The name is repeated a few times but then the explosion of the bomb in the dumpster blocks nearly any accurate hearing for a few moments.


Jackson is still fuming, a slow burn. It would be advisable for pedestrians and others to walk right on by. And the aura he is emitting is intimidating. Does he see where Dove went? Maybe not, she is moving fast, but he hears the explosion. There’s a faint growl, the man on the other end can hear it. It does not sound human. Once his hearing returns, the dull buzz and ringing dying down. “You have about four seconds to tell me what you want, Mr. Blackwell, and then maybe a few days before I show up on your door. So you better make the next few seconds good. Because yes, I am still here. WHO did WHAT?"


Pinwheeling through the air, Dove lands with a solid thud against a wall, sliding down with a groan. It wasn't the violence of the explosion, but the deafening noise and the bright lights. Who has two thumbs and forgot to maybe turn off their Auspex in all of the rush to avoid Jackson being exploded? This gal! It takes her a second to shove herself up and away, running again, needing to get away from the area and suspicion.


"It seems that my operative was compromised. Good thing I had him removed. The device was not of my doing. I want the bag that you promised you had and I will hold /you/ to your word, Sir." ...and -then- the line goes dead.

The explosion has scared everyone at the rink though it wasn't very destructive it was rather loud and booming. Skaters fell to the ice and families, with their camera phones rolling, turn towards the sound.


Is Jackson buying that, after the threat that was just levied his way? His impending doom and then a bomb? He is not. He stands, outwardly calm, from the bench, but seething. “Oh, we are going to have words.” The phone in his hand becomes a dusting of parts as it shatters in his grip. Though he stuffs them and his hand in his leather jacket pocket. He starts walking towards where he parked and out of the park. People start moving out of his way. Like sheep who can detect a wolf in their midst, even if they can’t see it.