M. I. A.

Posted on Thu Jun 5th, 2025 @ 4:33am by General Dizzy House & General Denovan House & General Harold Morton Mr. & Captain Amaruq & 2nd Lieutenant Michael Stern

1,026 words; about a 5 minute read

Mission: Armed and Dangerous
Location: University District
Timeline: Current Day

The prince came in from tending her roses and saw the parchment on her desk. She moved over to the desk and handed the roses to Miranda, one of her ghouls to put into vases. Then she picked up the parchment and went to her throne and sat down hard. Her face became ice, like a marble statue. She picked up her cell phone and pressed the speed dial to call Den. If he couldn't feel her sorrow and rage, then he was too far to call out to with voice alone. And the fact that he hadn't burst into the throne room when she read the words told her all she needed to know.

"Den, I need you to get to the palace now. Call in all the coteries. We are at war with an invisible entity." She said in clipped tones and then hung up without listening for his response.

Den arrived first and she gave him the parchment to read. When the room was filled again with the coteries of Vancouver, she looked at them all. Her tone was filled with more emotions than could be picked out as one dominating the others.

Amaruq had heard the call and had made her way to the palace with the others. She listened as the Prince spoke.

"Everyone, one of our coteries, the one in Burnaby, didn't call in like you are all supposed to. I sent Richard to find out what happened. Their haven was violated and all that was left was five piles of ash that used to Thomas, Rachel, Zechariah, Russell, and Hannah. The only clue we have of who it might be, a business card from the shop we are investigating in the University district. You all need to be on your toes, but we need to find out who we are up against and where they are so we can shut them down, hard." She looked at them all again and nodded once. "Go, and hunt down the murderers of our friends and family." For that is how she felt about all the Kindred within her city, as friends and family.

Releasing the various coteries, she turned to Den and just stared at him, letting him in to feel what she was feeling. Needing him more than ever at this moment. "Den..."

Denovan had actually been out on a case, considering he was still working his job with the FBI. They were dealing with something similar that may or may not be connected. Den still had his helmet on from flying there in The Lady. Pressing the side to raise the visor then take it off. "What calling card was left?" offering his hand.

Richard handed the card to Den without a word. The La Sombra was sober, as usual, but now he was also grim. "There had been a fight, Den. Here are the keys to their haven, it is sealed off for the moment. Thankfully, it was a small house and not an apartment so the neighbors didn't hear the fight and call in the authorities." His voice was a soft baritone and was often described as shadowy, like himself, always there and yet, not quite there, like something from the corner of your eye. But he had been with Dizzy for 300 years and had known Den since New Orleans time, so was a friend to Dizzy's mate and husband and co leader of the city.

Dizzy thanked Richard again and looked at Den. Needing something more than for him to just be his business side. She needed his other side right now.

Den took the keys and looked them over for a moment, deciding to use Spirit Touch on them. Closing his eyes for a moment. "Thank you, Richard. What is the other part where the shoe drops you're avoiding mentioning?"

Walking briskly and with purpose down the hallway, Harold knocking on the open door before stepping in.
"Apologies for my tardiness, I was dealing with a situation in the red light district." He said, his sword-cane tapping slightly on the floor. "I understand we have another situation on our hands?"

Dizzy smiled at Harold and thanked him for coming in. She turned to Den. "The whispers speak, the voices cry out, the souls were swallowed, not given peace, they scream in torment, crying for vengence, demanding blood and freedom from slavery. Den, the whispers speak, a collector is here, seeking others."

None of those who had known Dizzy for a long time might have heard the rage and pain, but her kinsman did. Through the Network, he heard her and heeded the call. Unlike so many of the others, he charged in, his eyes afire, body language that of a man in a race against time. He looked at her, and the others, and closed his eyes, seeing the images. This was what haunted his nightmares - images like these, piles of ash where friends had stood. A pile where he might stand one day. He looked at them all, and then at Dizzy. He wasn't a master of Courtly politics yet and when his issues were triggered, he was likely to be overly enthusiastic. "Something is here. It infects the mind and kills the body." He looked at Dizzy, ignoring the others. "In the name of the Great One, command us."

Harold said nothing at first unsure of what Dizzy meant, although he got the gist of it, something bad had come to Vancouver. It made sense now, the feeling of being watched when he and Lydia had taken their midnight stroll the night before, something felt wrong, he'd had his thumb on his sword cane's release switch most of the walk.

"I See..." He said quietly to himself, "That explains it.."

Dizzy looked out at her court and coteries. "Be careful. Report anything that is out of the ordinary. If you have friends who vanish without a reason or who mysteriously end up dead, please let us know. I fear we are up against something more than just the Sabbat or Hunters. I don't like losing friends."


END THIS LOG: CONTINUES IN OTHER LOGS.

 

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