"The cold war was the height of Clan Ventrue's success. Members of the Clan occupied positions of power, both public and behind the scenes, and did everything they could to enrich themselves and establish the influence of Kindred as a whole. Those Ventrue who held power since those days have largely continued to prosper. Some, hardened by both the fires of WWII, and seasoned by the politicking of the aforementioned Cold War, have become a forceful presence in our society. And their ambitions bear watching."

Records pieced together from burned fragments, discovered in a "vacated" Sabbat domain. Author suspected to be an archivist of Clan Lasombra.

********

Phoenix was not the largest city in the U.S. But it was certainly on the rise. And ever since the Camarilla doubled down on their expansion, the city had grown even further. Modernization and sleek architecture were beginning to take hold, while still retaining a rustic charm from the people living there.

Jessie liked the people from Arizona and the other western states. They had a rough charm to them, and less baggage and pretense than people on the coast or in the old south. So why did she still feel so uncomfortable here? It was certainly more hospitable than many other places in several other countries. As she pulled up to the address she'd been given, Jessie remembered.

It was a refurbished factory and had all the trappings of a truly modern industrial facility. Metal and hardened ceramic had replaced old brick walls, and the chimneys had been repurposed into advanced filtration systems. The white and black paint added yet another layer of sleekness to the place, and the whole setup reminded her of far eastern corporate assets.

But it was the guards and lookouts spread out along the perimeter and stationed along the surrounding area that reminded her of the cities' true nature. This factory, owned by Montrose Enterprises, had stationed itself right by several apartment complexes and even some shopping centers. Many of the factory workers probably lived in those same apartments, and those same residents couldn't entirely conceal their purpose from Jessie's eyes. For their own eyes were on her and her bike.

To their credit, they were better concealed than other's she had seen. These operatives were hidden among the civilians and workers and were almost able to hide the military precision of their movements, and the hard focus on their faces. It was all enough to convince her that there must have been other unseen defenses, hidden traps, and wards that only eyes more experienced than her own would pick up on.

And speaking of more experienced eyes: "Yo, Jess!" Ian's smooth voice and deep tone seeped into Jessie's ears like a crawling insect. She once considered it his best feature, now it was just a reminder of his sliminess. "You're looking good."

Jessie was never one for fancy dress, yeah she had one expensive tastes, but the clothes were simple...other than the half jacket, and the designer jeans, and all the rest. But they were optimized for comfort and as far as she was concerned, held a sense of style.

Ian did not agree. "You're still uglier than me though." His long dreads were saturated in cheap hair gel so that his head seemed wrapped in fluff studded plastic. And his flawless dark skin was marred by overapplied face cream and misused cologne, giving it a greasy look and giving his whole body an even greasier smell.

Yet his smile remained pristine. "You ready?"

"No."

"No what?" Ian always enjoyed taunting her, and his smile widened as her annoyance grew.

"No, as in No: I am not ready for your shit right now."

"Alright. I'll be gentle."

"Amaya said you got here ahead of me." Jessie realized she wouldn't gain anything from engaging Ian further, she had to regain focus. If not to survive Amaya's wrath, then to retain her own sanity. "Did anything happen? Or did you just sit out here ogling kine again?"

"I can do both. But yeah, I got us an appointment."

"An appointment? Really?" She was unimpressed.

"He's Ventrue. They like putting people on hold." He looked over at those few security guards who were in full gear. They wore full body armor and looked more like professional mercenaries than rent-a-cops. "And besides, you don't kick down an Archon's door. Even if with the Prince backing you." Ian did nothing to hid his contempt. He'd never liked the Cams, but with the looming threat of execution hovering over his head, he'd set aside his more independent principles.

"So? When's the appointment?" This was so frustrating. Infiltrating Anarch cells was easy enough when you got the beat down. Introduce yourself, slap around some disposable Cam fodder, and then get some drinks later. "Is it happening soon? In an hour? When?" This guy, their new target, wouldn't be so easy.

And just as Ian was about to answer the question, a voice came from behind the factory gates. "Are you Jessie and Ian?" The voice came from a young but rough-looking man in casual work clothes, just a wool button-down, and blue jeans in fact. "Mr. Sharpe will see you now."

The man's voice was Eastern European, but Jessie couldn't place it exactly. The man himself though would've been very easy to spot. A muscled giant of a man with long auburn hair held in a long tail while the moonlight above glanced off his naturally violet eyes. He looked more Far East Asian than European though, was he Russian?

"He is waiting on the factory floor, and refreshments have been laid out for you." His manner was very courteous though, and his words and diction carried a hint of higher education. Yet those same violet eyes were weighed down by age, he was clearly much older than he looked. But he was not Kindred...

"Are you a ghoul?" Ian's lack of decorum shouldn't have surprised Jessie, but she'd already put up with his initial BS and was done now.

"Can you not be a dick, for once?" No fury was in her voice, only contempt. But as soon as the moment had come, she quashed it down. Even massaging the bridge of her nose in a futile attempt to relax. "Sorry, we normally aren't like this."

The apology was met with a quant smile from the violet-eyed stranger. "It's alright. To answer your colleagues' question, I am in fact a ghoul." He looked around at the streets, inspecting the surroundings for some evidence of espionage. "We should talk inside. We have done all we could to secure the surrounding area, but our competitors are not so easily deterred."

"That's some fancy talk." Ian smiled, and his condescension had not abated. "Most doormen don't share your...vernacular."

"Mr. Sharpe was quite generous in providing for my education. He opened doors for me and many others as well." His eyes gave Ian just the barest peripheral glance. "Even for the undeserving."

For once, Ian shut his mouth, at which Jessie couldn't help but crack a smile. She even gave her host a respectful nod once the gates were fully opened and they were ushered in. And yes, this man was in fact a ghoul, she could smell it on him now. But he was not the only one.

The security guards and the managers also had the scent of supernatural power about them. And the looks they gave her and Ian showed that they were not just aware of their true nature, but familiar with it as well.

This many combat-trained and skilled ghouls serving one master, was unnerving. And if their target had this kind of influence, what else did he have in store? "What the hell have we gotten into?"

The factory floor was nothing like she imagined. Instead of the grimy and industrial era wasteland she had anticipated, Jessie found herself staring at an entirely modern and sanitized work environment. The place was well lit, all the factory workers had clean uniforms and proper safety gear, and the various work areas next to the machines were all separated and maintained behind thick plastic covers and walls.

The factory itself was producing ceramics in various configurations and shapes. Some machines were geared towards making small tiles, perhaps roofing and floors. But Jessie could see that most of the machinery produced solid cubes. Each of which was meant for the manufacture of arms and armor. She knew this because the texture of these blocks very a near-exact match for body armor the guards outside were wearing.

"Guess they make the gear somewhere else. Or maybe someone else makes it and sends the goods back to them?" Jessie once enjoyed guessing at the machinations and politics of her prospective rivals, until she became a target of those plots of course. Now, she guessed to survive.

Not that she was always good at it. For instance, one look at some of the more advanced-looking machinery told Jessie that she didn't know enough about the full workings of the factory to comment on it fully. Did that matter? She was supposed to watch this so-called "Archon", so knowing how his operation worked would be helpful. That was her thinking anyway.

What really caught her attention were the workers. Not all of them were ghouls, though once again, a few of the managers and guards were. And that was the point: they were normal and even happy with their work. They talked and socialized at the occasional break table she was lead by, and they paid attention to orders given and carried them out at an efficient though clearly organic pace.

"What a scam." Ian did nothing to disguise his contempt. These people were, after all, just meat to him. And like many vampires, he couldn't fathom any other way to look at them.

This outlook was not shared by their guide. "Not at all. Mr. Sharpe insisted on a livable work environment. He also prefers his subordinates to be well-motivated, and even proud in their labors." That pride could be heard in the ghoul's voice, and again seemed entirely natural.

Now that the conversation had resumed though, Jessie decided to rectify an earlier mistake.

"I'm sorry." She cleared her throat a little and then did all she could to make herself heard over the machines. "I never asked your name."

"My name is Krzysztof." His tone was pleasant and even obliging. "You are welcome to use Chris though." And he even smiled a bit, without any trace of condescension.

This unnerved Jessie, a fact that was not unnoticed by Chris.

"Are you alright?" The concern was genuine as well.

The answer was not all that forthcoming, and there was some nervousness on her part. "Well..." she looked around at the factory floor, she knew people were listening somewhere, but she was wary of how much they might hear.

Once again, her concerns were not shared by her colleague.

"Jessie gets treated like shit." Another smile, almost proud, slid across Ian's mouth. "You know how it is. Fledglings and whatever."

"I am aware." Chris may have been aware, but he did not seem to approve. And this attitude was kept as he turned to the younger vampire. "I assure you that this is not our policy here, and certainly not a view shared by Mr. Sharpe.

"Thanks." She kept her tone pleasant, but now she was further on edge. Vampires were not renowned for their benevolence, with good reason. And the pleasant atmosphere conveyed by this ghoul, and maintained by his master must have been a cover. That was always the truth of the matter.

"Just more smiles, more lies, and more knives." She was tired of the whole façade. But it was either play the game or get dusted. Not a fair trade, but definitely the best she would get.

"Ah, there he is!" Chris pointed out to a group of men next to a massive collection of crates. They looked to be in the process of shipping out, as the men in front of them looked to be arguing.

She figured they were quarreling over the price, and the loudest voice among them was that of a 30 something in an overpriced suit.

"That's gotta be him." The Ventrue loved their control and their opulent dress. Everyone knew that.

But when Chris walked to the group of men, he did not return with the angry corporate tool. Instead, he came back with the man they had been arguing with. This person wore a similar outfit to Chris's own ensemble. The only difference was that the newcomer wore long work gloves that almost reached to his elbows, and was covered in dirt.

"Greetings, Chris here tells me you were hoping to meet?" He looked like a young man, barely into his twenties in fact. And his blonde hair was caked in still more dirt. Which seemed to embarrass him. "My apologies. One of the trucks broke down and we had to dig it out."

His accent was English, of the aristocratic variety. Not at all like his appearance would suggest.

But Jessie's assessment was interrupted by another blinding insight from Ian. "A Ventrue who gets his hands dirty? You a new kid too?" He was confused on top of contemptuous, like the sight of this dirt-covered man was hateful and strange to him.

But their new host took this in stride. "I'm considered unconventional by my peers. I think it strange that one should shy away from manual labor, and yet consider themselves mighty." There was a hint of pride in his voice, and it matched his stature.

He was a tall man and stood in a straight military fashion. "On that note, call me Isaac. We're to work together so we might as well be familiar." But once again, his expression and demeanor distracted from all that.

He extended took his right glove off and extended it to Jessie and Ian. They both shook it, though with varying degrees of respect. At that, he pointed out his office, which was just a few steps away and on the ground floor.

"We should discuss the rest of our business in private if you'd follow me."

"What if we don't?" Yet another "joke" from Ian, who now stood in a confrontational posture.

"Are you serious?" Jessie sported her most sarcastic smile, though her eyes flared in anger. "How the hell can you get more immature the older you get? Explain that shit to me."

Before such an explanation could be given, Isaac snapped his fingers, and the power of his sheer presence filled both Jessie and Ian's senses.

"You are welcome to shout, but not in front of my workers." His tone was stern now, and he pointed at the office door directly now. "My office, now."

Stern, but not harsh. That was the best way to describe his voice, and Ian was cowed easily. He trailed off after the Ventrue Archon, and Jessie followed after. Yet it was interesting to her. Most Ventrue would have defaulted to using Dominate, the vampiric power which allowed them to directly control and dictate the actions of others.

But Isaac used Presence, which was focused on more subtle manipulations. IT tugged at the emotions and perceptions of people instead of breaking them down. It was an interesting move, at least to Jessie.

Ian dragged his feet the whole trek through, and so Jessie was able to reach the office just in time for Isaac to open the door and welcome her through in a gentlemanly fashion.

"Madame." He waved her in, and despite using such a cliched phrase as he did so, it suited him. His accent and delivery were just right. And with that, she entered the room and heard the door hit Ian as he was coming in.

She turned to see Isaac smiling at his small jab, and couldn't keep from doing the same.

"Maybe this won't be so bad."