Vampire: The Requiem - The Docks (Industrial and Old Town)

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Loredoctor
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Vampire: The Requiem - The Docks (Industrial and Old Town)

Post by Loredoctor »

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Please post in here for Stories relating to the Docks.
Waddley wrote:your Highness Sir Dr. Loredoctor, PhD, Esq, the Magnificent, First of his name, Second Cousin of Dragons, White-Gold-Plate Wielder!
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Ivan Karpenku
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Post by Ivan Karpenku »

Captain Kushnir sees the last of his crew walk down the plank, after unloading everything that was due to be left here. Only a skeleton crew was left, mostly sitting in the watch room, with a view of the few dimly lit spots on the empty deck.

He turns to his First Mate and says "Okay, we've left him in there long enough. Any longer, and he'll suspect that you were just stalling to annoy him. I don't know what he did to offend you, but I can't have my reputation harmed with the Aryan. Go, enjoy your leave in town. I'll let him out of hiding."

Kushnir watches Yevgeny stroll off, noticing that the man was walking slower than normal. Just to steal a few more moments of Ivan's time, no doubt.

"Mr. Karpenku? It's Captain Kushnir. The coast is clear now, I'm opening the crate." He knocked two times, paused, then knocked four times. The code Ivan had made him promise to use if he wasn't under duress. All those ex-military types were too paranoid. Who would want to coerce him? What was there in this God forsaken town to even bother sneaking into? But, the Aryan had never double-crossed him, and in the days after 9/11, you learned not to drive off your few decent customers.

He took the crow bar and pried open the box. The stencil on the side said Human Remains, and any customs agents who looked inside or scanned it would find a cold, dead corpse. According to the documents he carried, this was the body of an American student who died studying whales somewhere in the North Sea. On its way back to Kansas or some such place that has no whales.

Ivan looked up and smiled at him. Then he noticed the color of the sky... "What time is it? Where are my 'personal effects'?" Kushnir handed him the bag with his watch and other items, then told him that it was shortly after 10pm.

"What? Incompetant! The meeting STARTS at 10. Now I'll be late." Ivan grabbed his luggage, (only a single overnight bag... being dead meant you didn't sweat and didn't funk up your clothing, as long as you didn't spill anything on it) and ran up the docks to the gates.

Once he gets past the gates, he looks around for a phone booth. The first one he spots was broken open for change years ago, and never repaired. A block further on, he sees another. It all looks to be in order when he gets there, but the cord to the handset has been cut. Whoever did it was kind enough to put the handset back on the cradle when he was done.

Iven keeps jogging another block, then he sees a run down nightclub to his right as he gets to the next intersection. "Finally!" he says, remembering to practice his English. He heads down the block to the club, looking around for a taxi. None are in evidence, of course. As he gets to the door, he spots a taxi heading this way, sign lit to show vacancy.

Glancing at his watch, which now reads 10:25, Ivan growls. "Hurry hurry hurry." he says, in heavily accented English.

"Where to, buddy?"

"Iven yearns to go to the Opera House. Here is address." He tosses a folded piece of paper over the seat at the driver.

"Opera House? We still have one of those?" The driver reaches to the seat next to him, but only to pick up the pack of cigarettes there. He takes one out, then reaches over to depress the lighter into the dashboard. "I see you have a bag with you... girlfriend kicked you out, eh? Wanted to drink the pain away, but they kicked you out. I seen it a million times before. But why would you want to go to the Opera House?"

The lighter popped out of the dashboard, and he reached back to grab it, then slowly lit the cigarette. Ivan couldn't decide if the fact that it prevented him from talking was more important than the fact that he had not yet actually started the car moving.

"No girlfriend. Ivan has business meeting with important hooker at Opera House. Please hurry, as I'm very late already, and she will be most displeased with tardiness."

"That's how it is, huh?" His voice gets even more nasal and high pitched, like he's pretending to be someone else. "Your important hooker will be displeased with tardiness." The driver FINALLY put the car in gear and pulled away from the curb. "Well, I can tell you this much. I been driving people around this town for 7 years, and I've never heard of any hookers at the Opera House. You're better off going inside that club you was just in. Though... if you're talking about some kind of specialty S&M hooker, maybe the Opera House is where you need to be. Those rich fucks can hire anybody to do anything... I'm sure they have someone to whip them for being late to meetings."

Ivan had trouble following what he was saying, through the man's midwest accent. He'd been practicing his English on the ship, but with a few British sailors who worked the night shift. The frustration of trying to understand this new language started to get to him. He slammed his palm into the window behind the man's head. "No more conversation, just drive. Ivan is late already."

He sees the man pull up to a red light. No other traffic in any direction, even several blocks away, but the taxi stopped at the red light.

Ivan takes a $100 bill from his wallet, and throws it to the front seat. "Look, keep that and get me there NOW!" The driver sees the franklin on the seat, "Okay buddy. You asked for it, but hold on tight." He glances at the lack of cars in any direction, and guns it through a red light. He gets one block, then takes a hard right... continues three or four blocks, makes another right (Ivan can't tell where, as the seat belt chose that moment to disconnect and he spent a few moments trying to get it back in the slot.

Eventually, the cabby screatched to a halt one block away from the Oper House.

"Look... before you go... I gotta know. What does an S&M mistress do? How much does she cost? I got this... friend, see. He's interested in that, but doesn't know where to find it."

Ivan looks at the man's name from his Taxi license, and notices the car number. I'll get back in touch with you. If you ever get a dispatch where they specifically asked for you... that could be me. Then, we can talk. But right now, I get to slobber on her ring, and hope she doesn't bleed me on sight."

"Thanks, Pal. Normally, you use the big doors up front. But I guess for ths kind of private affaire, everyone is going in through that side door."

"Good luck with your ass-beatings!"
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Malachi
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Post by Malachi »

After stepping out of my cab, I took in the view. I had no idea where to start looking for this 'Hocampo Puerto'-destined crate. Yellow with red stripes... yellow with red stripes....
Last edited by Malachi on Mon Jan 18, 2010 12:22 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Loredoctor
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Post by Loredoctor »

Malachi stands near a tall fence that surrounds the busy docks. Trucks heavy with crates and containers rumble along the road behind him and between the tall, rusting container mountains near the docks. Some of the trucks enter via a wide gate some two hundred feet to his left, which is guarded by two towers and men standing with fearsome-looking dogs. Looming over the grounds are several long sheds, each lit up in actinic white light. Night shift workers stroll about, their voices drowned out by the sounds of the trucks and loading cranes.

From where he is standing, the vampire can see two cargo vessels, both of which are lit up. Although one appears unoccupied, as there is no one on deck.
Waddley wrote:your Highness Sir Dr. Loredoctor, PhD, Esq, the Magnificent, First of his name, Second Cousin of Dragons, White-Gold-Plate Wielder!
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Malachi
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Post by Malachi »

Loremaster wrote:Night shift workers stroll about, their voices drowned out by the sounds of the trucks and loading cranes.

From where he is standing, the vampire can see two cargo vessels, both of which are lit up. Although one appears unoccupied, as there is no one on deck.
I approached one of the workers. The one who looked busy, and alone. I figured that he'd be thinking too hard to worry about why I'm askin' questions, and just make sure they're answered so he wouldn't be bothered no more.

"'Scuse me! Which one of those ships is making its way to Hocampo Puerto!?"
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Loredoctor
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Post by Loredoctor »

The worker wears a coffee-stained fluorescent jacket, and he is fiddling with his safety helmet as he watches Malachi with narrowed eyes. The slim man looks over his shoulder, towards one of the trucks and then looks back.

"Who the fuck are you," he says with a quick laugh. "Why the fuck do you want to know?"
Waddley wrote:your Highness Sir Dr. Loredoctor, PhD, Esq, the Magnificent, First of his name, Second Cousin of Dragons, White-Gold-Plate Wielder!
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Malachi
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Post by Malachi »

"I'm a private investigator. I've been tracking some broad looking to skip town without paying their bail, and all the clues point to her hiding out on a ship heading there."

I pulled out a twenty to grease his palm with.

"You'll be doing the city a favour by helping put a known felon behind bars."
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