Two Women sit quietly, sipping, almost daintily, from teacups.
The room is dark and quiet.
Beethoven plays softly in the background... silently cursing for the billionth time his mortal loss of hearing centuries ago.

All is the picture of gentle serenity.

The scene is Civilized.

Polite.

Peaceful.

But nothing could be further from the truth.

As the two silently tend their beverages, you, the witness, slowly, ever so slowly, awaken to a tension in the air.

A sense of an ancient and bitter hatred is almost palatable. Such an intensity can only build, not in years or decades but centuries. Your mind and eyes slowly gain focus and as the fog clears there is a sound, not within your sight, and the two women, no Creatures rise.

Welcome sisters. I trust your wait has not been overlong. I do apologize. Matters of the utmost concern kept me longer than I anticipated.

The unseen voice hits you like a hammer. Instantly you are shocked into clarity.

It is the voice of Evil.

The woman in blood red brocade speaks quietly but with assurance, Countess, one wonders at the sincerity and implied urgency of your invitation. Your tardiness infers that your concerns merit more attention than whatever business you have to discuss with us. While I cannot speak for our dear sister, I warn you, my patience wears diaphanously thin.

Please, stay your anger and hear me out. If you feel your time has been wasted, then by all means, you are free to leave. You hear Evil’s voice drip with false sincerity.

Instantly Blood snaps back, I am ‘free to leave’ whether I have your permission or not! You misshapen bag of...

Enough.

The word is not so much spoken, as released from the lips of the third...Silence. Until now she had not uttered a sylable. Its effect is abrupt and final. Both rising voices clip to a stop.

Her Excellency is correct...as always, Blood apologetically and politially defers.

Evil's tone is nearly civil yet it somehow reminds you of exotic torture by its very texture. Indeed. Your Time is valuable and I will proceed directly to the point. Seattle is lost to us.

The temperature of the room plunges instantly. Then Silence utters another single word.

Explain.

Evil marks off the facts, as if counting appendages. Yes. Well, as you know, with the recent destruction of the elders of Seattle, the Cardinals Council, in Mexico, decided the time was right to take the city once and for all. It seems their endeavor failed. I have just received word that our agents have been destroyed or scattered. Lucious is no more, and his planned ties to the creature Banshee died with them both.

Blood replies curiously, "One moment. I remember this now. As I recall the city was to be temporarily led by a Brujah Prince? How on earth did all this happen!?

Evil begins again sounding even colder than before, Not temporarily. It seems the Brujah, whom we all thought would not live the month, not only survived, but has led the Camarilla in two successive victories. The first against us and the second against this Banshee fellow. It was at the expense of some prime real estate however... half the city is burned to the ground. If our sources are to be trusted, that is. Of course this is unlikely.

You hear Blood sip from her tea cup delicately, Ah well their time will come. Not this year I suppose, but one day we will have Seattle and all of the West Coast for that matter. In the mean time, what do you each think about. And for the second time she is cut off by Silence.

No.

Evil and Blood shift in their seats turning to face their near mute sibling. A long moment passes. It is obvious she is going to speak now. Apparently NOT a common occurrence.

Make a necessary example, is all she says.

Slowly Evil speaks with a dawning understanding, We cannot afford to be made to look the fool. If an upstart Brujah...", the word oozes past her lips with obvious distaste, "... can push us out, then who will be next? Her Excellency is correct, we must make an example of him and his measly village.

Blood sounding more hesitant speaks, That may not be as easy as it sounds. It seems the Camarilla is quite interested in Seattle as well. They have appointed a new Ventrue Archon, Andre something or other, to watch over the state. Perhaps there is more to this "measly village" than meets the eye, dear sister.

No to be detered, Evil pushes on, Indeed? Well I have the perfect Hammer to crack this Egg. I trust you know Baron Vladimir? You can hear her many-toothed grin, even though you still cannot see her.

Vladimir!? Isn’t that a bit of overkill, my dear? Besides, he went mad decades ago. Not to mention that he has been in seclusion since before WWII, Blood questions.

His sanity is not required. What we need here is Brutality and Cunning. Those elements, I assure you, are perfectly intact. Besides, Seattle holdsjust what he needs to bring the focus back to his mind. This Brujah will not know what hit him, chortles Evil. The sound of dry skin rubbing together sends chills down your curved and twisted spine.

If you are committed to this, then I will of course lend my support, sister. However, may I offer one of my own to help him with the more... subtle issues that may arise? Blood interjects.

No! I don’t’ think that is necessary. Baron Vladimir has special reason to want to destroy Seattle, you see Evil begins but is stopped by a mere growl from Silence.

Blood 's voices drips with triumph as she continues, We are agreed then. Baron Vladimir will lead the retaking of Seattle and I shall assign Natori Angelica Marie Borgia as his whip. That should work out nicely. Once they gather up their forces, leftovers from the last failed attempt, and perhaps some new blood, they will be ready to begin.

It is obvious to your reduced perception, that Blood is planning furiously how best to gain some personal advantage in this latest venture.

The one you call Evil. The Collector of Artists, now speaks to you. Oh my dear painting! You’re awake again are you? And look, you’re crooked.

What passes for your body now begins to shake as Evil enters into your blurry vision. You see huge Talons reach up above the mantelpiece where you are made to live and lock onto you. Then from the far corner of the room Beethoven changes his music, remembering sadly a time when his body was not a Living Piano.

Well Picasso Shall we move your eye over HERE today?

The pain starts anew.