ironyuri
Guest
As for our ghoul squad, if we remember correctly, Trentbridge is our kine liaison with them and (this is to show what Storyfag was asking about) they are at the airfield, but they're sitting tight under their CO:
In that case, Gondbro, Mr. Cripps, might be our best bet. With his ties to the Nosferatu, he might be able to find intelligence, otherwise, he can remain in London OR come to the airfield (obfuscated if need be to survive) , to provide direct assistance to Tony. He's the closest thing we have to reliable eyes and ears inside the city, and the closest ally we've got who can take action inside the city limits.
grotsnik said:You recognise each of them from their photographs.
Charles Kaleni, weathered and tall, his hair shaved back to a faint grey fuzz, leaning against the open door of the makeshift operations room, is smoking a small cigar. Sasha Wojcik and Billy Budd are dancing, giggling, hand-in-beer-in-hand, to the tinny noise emanating from a small CD player set on one of the chairs.
“I don’t want, anybody else, when I think about you, I touch myself-”
As Kaleni, dropping his cigar at the sight of you, barks at them to fall in, Budd dashes for the CD player, turning it off, while Wojcik’s the first to stand in line; and that’s Steven Cutter beside her, short and bulldog-brutish, and Nikhil Paudal, missing an ear and rising, last, from his game of patience upon the floor.
“Easy, lads, easy,” Trentbridge says from beside you. “It’s not a bloody parade. We’re just here for a chat. Captain, I do hope you’re not being too hard on them.”
“Worthless wretches and insubordinate maggots, sir,” Kaleni growls, straight-faced. “Got to keep ‘em on their toes. Give ‘em an inch, sir, they’ll take a mile. Got to push these spineless single-celled little pondscum, push ‘em up the evolutionary ladder till they’re close enough to pass for actual fucking Englishmen.”
A few of the soldiers grin; Trentbridge chuckles, leniently, and you take that as your cue to smile as well.
“Take your seats,” he says, flapping a hand, “take your seats. I want to introduce you to an essential part of our little project. This is Mr Sommers; he wants to have a word with you.”
You step forward. Time to make your presence felt.
“I suppose I should begin by saying that we’re all immensely proud of your accomplishments in training,” you say, scanning the faces of the team, “but let’s be honest - the training isn’t why you’re here. You’re already highly-trained, you’re already extraordinarily capable; you want to get out there and do some damage.”
“Ready and waiting, sir!” Budd calls out, before Kaleni snarls back,
“Quiet-”
“Damned glad to hear it,” you tell him, smiling. “But we’re not going to send you in half-cocked. Which is why I’m going to be taking Mr Fellowes off your hands for a few weeks - to scope out a potential target. I’m sure you’ll all miss him.”
“Won’t be the same without old Downton Abbey around to cheer us up, sir,” Wojcik says, to a chorus of chuckles.
You assume you’re meant to know what that’s referring to.
“You’ll have him back soon,” you say, “I promise you that. And before long, we’ll see the bastards fleeing our country in terror and we can all celebrate together. In the meantime, if there’s anything you need, anything at all, call me directly and I’ll provide it.”
“There was one thing, sir,” Cutter ventures, raising a hand. “The scopes on the rifles, sir, standard-issue, and they’re not up to much. Said to the others, they’d be better off taping a bog roll to the barrels, sir...”
You listen patiently, make him write down the make of the scope he’d prefer, and once you’re back in the car, you arrange for a boxful of them to be shipped out to the facility - along with a new, more expensive sound system.
The bond of blood is one thing, you tell yourself; but Kine need to be able to justify their feelings to themselves; pretend they’re rational creatures and not driven by the mindless chemicals sloshing around inside them.
Griddle and Turcov are out of the question. While this is the ideal time for the Camarilla to stick together, it will be every vampire for himself. Glory and princedom await the intrepid and Tony will make his own bid for them, with our help.
In that case, Gondbro, Mr. Cripps, might be our best bet. With his ties to the Nosferatu, he might be able to find intelligence, otherwise, he can remain in London OR come to the airfield (obfuscated if need be to survive) , to provide direct assistance to Tony. He's the closest thing we have to reliable eyes and ears inside the city, and the closest ally we've got who can take action inside the city limits.