Lights flicker on in a room that has lied in darkness for days. Tube lights bathe various objects in blinding brightness, as they come to life: a roughly oval table, multiple chairs arranged around it, light grey, sterile walls, a linoleum covered floor. Everything breathes the spirit of 'surgery room'. A pair of eyes opens, blinded by the sudden assault, blinking heavily to lessen the glaring effect. Despite the sound of the door being opened, the two eyes focus on the lights embedded in the rooms ceiling, as if they could turn them back off by just staring at them angrily - to no avail. A girl is sitting in a corner of the room, legs tucked up, arms slung around them. She doesn't seem to care for the people entering the room, even the lights can't hold her attention for long. She turns her stare back to where it was befor the assault of light - except the blackness she gazed at before had turned into the clear image of an ordinary chair. Barely audible noises, not unlike the snarl of a rabid dog escape her at this realization. Strands of unkempt hair emerge from her hood, giving off no clear impression of what color it might have had originally. It appears to be half-heartedly dyed in light blue, but also has streaks of blond, black and grey randomly splattered all over. It is unclear for how long she had been sitting there, in the lightless room. Minutes, hours, days?

The emissary entered what had internally been referred to as the 'interrogation room' with a calm expression, letting his eyes wander across the scenery before lighting up a little at the sight of Seven sitting in a corner.

"You're here. Splendid."

He receives no answer, no reaction whatsoever from her. Which is fine, he doesn't need one. The suited man closes the door before placing a stack of folders on the table, at the front end closest to the door. He moves a chair back in order to sit down on it, but instead turns around to face the door as if to expect it to open on its own, which it promptly does. Varin Soralin opens it, after being led to this place by a guard in equally formal attire as the emissary.

"Mister Soralin. Have a seat."

He acts like a businessman greeting a potential contractor, but doesn't portrait the courtesy of shaking hands, or waiting for a response. He appears like a man in total control of his surroundings, dictating the pace of everything happening.

"We'll start the briefing as soon as everyone arrived."

The next arrival doesn't take long enough for the Ventrue to sit down, but long enough for him to close the door again, pick up the dossier on top of the stack and skim a page and a half. His perfectly neutral face doesn't offer much insight of what he is reading, or if it meets his expectations. When the gate to one of the most secretive places in the Ventrue tower opens again, a young woman enters the scene.

"Miss LaVey, glad to have you with us. Make yourself comfortable while we wait for the last one to arrive."

He manages to slip in a commanding tone into the otherwise politely worded salutation, placing the folder back onto the table as soon as the new arrival sits down, surveying the faces of the attendees. His eyes arrive at Seven eventually, and for a moment it seems like he's going to speak up again, but it is not indecisiveness holding him back. He checks his wrist watch, narrowing his eyes for the fraction of a second. Wasted time was one of the few things that could make him lose his composure, and the last visitor was almost stretching the time frame by now. A few seconds of awkward silence pass. Right before anybody present can muster the breath to say something, someone knocks on the door twice, very audibly. Lloyd Haythorn is greeted as formally as the other two, and released of his entourage of no less than four guards.

"Mister Haythorn, please be seated. Now that we're all here, we can finally start the briefing."

The hint of urgency in his words was unambiguous, yet his body language does not betray his neutral expression. With calm and precise movements he closes the door as soon as the Gangrel enters, and turns around to begin his lecture - hardly giving Lloyd enough time to make himself acquainted with his surroundings, let alone introduce himself to the rest. Their host remains standing in front of the door, still neglecting the chair he reserved for himself, earlier.

"Salutations to the four of you. My name is James Louis, and I'll be your liaison for the duration of this assignment. I'll be the only one you'll report to, or direct questions at. And I must ask you to do so only within this very room. This..." -he gestures around- "...is what we refer to as the 'interrogation room'. It was built perfectly bug-proof and isolated from the outside world, and the reason for this gathering requires secrecy of such large scale. Nobody other than us will be granted access to this room for the coming days, and you're free to enter and leave as you please. The only thing I must demand is absolute discretion about any of the confidental topics discussed in here. Not a single word of the following is to be repeated outside of these walls. Failure to comply would have unfavorable consequences for all of us."
He pauses briefly after getting the mandatory threat and disclaimer out of the way, but again doesn't give the group any time to respond before he continues his monologue.
"You're all here to make up for past transgressions of the Masquerade - this is the common ground this group is founded on. -If- this mission results in acceptable success, you're all freed of your debt, how ever grave it was." -His eyes seem to rest on Lloyd specifically during this part. Louis lets his words sink in for a few seconds before picking up one of the dossiers in front of him. He slowly turns a few pages, then picks up again.
"Your task consists of two crucial points, and I am confident that you're able to fulfill both of them. First and foremost, I will introduce you to Marcus." - He puts the dossier in his hands flat on the table for everyone to see, portraying a photograph of a particularly ugly Nosferatu. The man was probably to be considered handsome for Nosferatu standards, actually looking vaguely like a really ugly junky after years of sleep deprivation and drug abuse, but he was still a pain to look at for everybody with an actual face. - "Marcus disappeared roughly two weeks ago. Not an uncommon thing for his kin, but we have reason to believe that he is a crucial piece in a greater puzzle. Few know that Marcus was one of our top information brokers. Possibly the single most important link the prince had to the underground information network. His identity was perfectly concealed, with such great care that not even the great Tung could have known - if that rings bells for any of you. We had the means to protect him if he was forced to go into hiding, in fact, you're sitting right inside these means. No place on this planet would have been more safe for him than Ventrue Tower, which leads us to believe that he did not just disappear on his own free will. And given the nature of the secrecy applied to his identity, him getting abducted can only have happened within one of two possibilities: a coincidence of astronomical magnitude, or an inside job. Since the prince does not believe in the former, we're assuming that the latter is the case, which is the reason why we are meeting in here, and the reason why I ask such secretiveness."
The speed at which mister Louis conveys these facts implies that interrupting him with questions before the monologue part has ended is not to be desired. He puts his hand on top of the stack of remaining dossiers, and shoves the top one towards the middle of the table - spreading them all out in almost perfect symmetry.
"Not long after his disappearance, a series of murders occured. We are currently counting four homicides, all of which seem unrelated at first glance, random even. But they are likely all commited by the same culprit, or group of culprits. At first we didn't recognize these as what they are - we have a dead woman in an appartment building, two wasted nondescript ghouls and an executed vampire. But with the last one, the connections became clear. Seen as a killing spree, these murders are progressively closing in on a Masquerade exposure, the last one being considered an official transgression, and all of the deceased ones are linked to Marcus one way or another. At this point, a coincidence is out of the question. Whoever is killing these guys off is a danger to our society and has to be put down. Not only is this someone or group of people exposing us more and more with every kill, they also have background information on one of our best informants, and who knows what else. This is where the official statement is set at. Sub-officially, there is even the theory that Marcus has gone rogue and is now getting rid of loose ends."
He allows himself a sigh of sorts, to dramatically indicate a new paragraph in this speech.
"However, reliable yet unscientific sources indicated that Marcus is in fact the first homicide victim. Further theories imply that the victims connections to Marcus might even be a red herring, and we're being spoonfed a false trail to move suspicion away from the actual person in charge. Considering that someone on the inside of this very building might be pulling strings, we have to lead a fake investigation in order to get to the bottom of this.
Officially, you are the second investigation team going over all the evidence and crime scenes again. You're looking for clues to find Marcus, who has been declared the prime suspect behind the series of murders. Unofficially though, you're seeking to disprove the official theory and find out who's the real perpretrator. We -know- that Marcus is dead, but whoever is playing against us isn't aware that we know. This is our only trump, our element of surprise - and the reason why you absolutely must not speak about any of this outside of the room."
A breather, longer than just the blink of an eye signals that James' speech has come to a temporary halt. He is leaning back with crossed arms so the group can properly stomach everything so far, looking at them expectantly.

"Is there anything unclear so far."

This barely sounds like a question, but is clearly intended as one. A chance for everyone to speak up and remove possible ambiguity.

________________________________________________________________________________________________

During all of this, Seven does not show any sign of attention or interest. She is sitting in her corner the exact same way as she was when the emissary entered the room. Unless payed close attention to, one could have the impression that she was a mannequin, rather than a living being - she didn't even blink since the lecture started.

A narrow corridor who's walls hung rows of upon rows of portraits of noble figures through out the ages, most of whom looked suspiciously like the same man just in clothes from different eras in time, echoed with the sound of bare feet walking against a clean marble floor. A man who looked like he was just pulled out of the dumpster out back was being escorted by four men in freshly pressed suits and identical low cut hair styles down the hall, though they looked more than reluctant to be near the man let alone touch him at all. The man who was so poorly dressed, if that word could be used at all, wore a pair of dark green cargo shorts with several burn holes in one of the legs, one could guess that they were bullet holes, and a sleeveless black T-shirt which had what could only be blood stains around the collar. The man's long dark hair hung down to his shoulder's, covering his face slightly, in tangled knots as if it hadn't been combed in weeks. The bottom of his bare feet were pitch black from what could of only of been days of not washing or wearing shoes. The man's nails were a near yellow color with grim under each, but what was the most horrifying feature about them was that each one were tipped with sharpened points, but the most monstrous part of the man's appearance had to be his eyes. They were surrounded by dark rings as if he hadn't slept in months, his brow was low in an almost permanent scowl, his pupils were thin slits, and then there was the color it self, a sickening bright yellow that waved any allusion the man was normal. The small group reached a door at the end of the hall and one of the men leading the freakish looking man knocked on it rather quickly, no doubt wanting to be rid of his duty of guarding, before opening it and ushering in his ward. A very business like voice greeted the man with the simple phrase "Mister Haythorn, please be seated..."

Lloyd took a seat, though he gave a sneer with a very low inhuman growl to James as he did so. Lloyd had already knew that he had been called to do some sort of assignment to make up for his past transgressions, but he was still not happy with having to work with a team then again he didn't like being around anybody. He moved his gaze around the room taking in account each in every person there, like a predator picking out the prize prey. His sneer seemed to grow when spotted the Toreador, he never liked the so called "artists" of the Kindred, but that paled in comparison for his distain for the Venture. He continued his scanning of the room taking not of the Brujah, him seeming to be some what tolerable. It was when he laid his eyes on the girl in the corner that Lloyd thought that there might be someone in this little group that wouldn't make him want to rip out his own throat. Lloyd, like a lot of Gangrel, preferred Malkavians over most clans mainly do to the fact they seemed to always to have some piece of honesty to their mad ramblings. Lloyd turned his attention back to the Venture who seemed to be done with his endless speech. He didn't saw a word but he did offer a slight grunt, more of a growl, to show he understood the plan though he hated the underhandedness of this whole affair.

Varin walked down the silent hallway, hands bound together with three sets of what appeared to be titanium hinge handcuffs. As he walked a guard trailed keeping a slight distance behind him, but never breaking sight with Varin, "Reaction distance." the Brujah thought to himself with a slight smirk. As they approached a door at the end of the hallway, obviously their destination as it was the only place they could go. When they reached the door, the guard stepped in front of Varin and began removing the handcuffs before knocking and opening the door, leading Varin through when all was said and done. As he entered into the room Varin was a bit surprised at the stark sterility of the room, and how it clashed with what the Ventrue were normally "accustomed to".

"Mister Soralin. Have a seat."

Complying Varin took his seat and waited as each member of what was to be their mismatched Coterie entered into the room. "Toreador, must be, she walks too... gracefully. And a Gangrel. Interesting." He kept his thought to himself as he watched the others, the only emotion that broke the mask of observation was a quick warning glare that he shot the Gangrel, who made a growling sound as he sat " Now is not the time lad, it dose no one any good to antagonize the snake in the middle of it's nest."

At the end of the speech Varin simply inclined his head to denote he understood, no sense in making the Ventrue ramble on more.

James only nods, counting the absence of questions as a 'no'.

"So. If anybody asked, you'd say that you're hunting a traitor. If -I- ask you, outside of this room, you'd also be hunting Marcus. This is what you'll tell our men standing guard at the crime scenes, what you converse about when you're anywhere other than here. No exceptions. No mention of the actual theory. Nobody is in on this other than you, me, and LaCroix."

As if to signify that he's done with the topic, James finally sits down on the chair he kept avoiding until now. This could mean one of two things: either he was done with the most serious issue...or he was just about to get to it.

"That is the first half of your job. From what I know about you, you should be able to succeed at it reasonably well. Besides dossiers to the murder victims, full access to the crime scenes and suitable apartments inside the tower, there's one more thing we'll supply you with."
-His eyes turn towards the corner where a certain Malkavian is sitting, remaining there for a brief moment of silence before he continues.-
"One of the best interrogators at our disposal. Seven is very gifted at getting each and any information out of a person, if need be. This might help you greatly if you run into possible suspects and witnesses. However..." -His gaze turns back to the others, looking at all of them sternly, yet none of them in specific.- "...you must not lose her under any circumstance. Don't let her out of sight, don't let any harm come to her, don't leave her alone. Specifically no breaks of the Masquerade. She's in the same boat as you, and her next transgression -will- be her last. You're not allowed to let this happen. If you have to decide between the mission and Sevens well-being, decide in her favor. It's unlikely that the murderer - or murderers know how useful she is, but losing her is a failure condition of this endeavor. There's..."

The repeated mention of her name actually seems to wake up the girl, which is only implied by her expression growing more and more sour. Until she interrupts the speaker, that is.

"I'm not a damn car key, jerk." - she declares in an incredibly monotone voice, which doesn't take away from the fact that she just openly insulted their host. James however only portrays an odd grin. Odd because it doesn't quite seem to suit his face. Even through the mask of perfect composure, the attentive observer could see how much this displeases him, but for some reason he refrains from reacting. It's obvious that he doesn't tolerate such behavior, yet he forces himself to take it as a jest. His words sound a lot colder for the entirety of the following sentence, though.

"Part of your qualification for this job is your capacity to restrain someone by force, should a situation arise. Expect this to be necessary."

If Seven understands James' implication, she doesn't show it. She doesn't really react to anything other than her name, it seems as if James angered her by using it and turned irrelevant shortly afterwards. The girl returns to staring at nothing in particular.

"She is the wild card up our sleeve. There's no telling what she'll be able to find out by 'asking nicely', or even just visiting the crime scenes..."
He made it sound pretty easy considering the group had to put up with the antics of a Malkavian. And Seven was not just your everyday run-of-the-mill maniac, either.
"Ideally, this whole deal will be over sooner than we all expect. The fine lady..." -he nods towards the corner- "...pointing at a random passenger and you taking them out, for example. Uncover who's behind the killing spree and bring them back to me. Or have Seven 'interrogate' the culprit, she -will- be able to tell if you got the right person, and if she passes judgement you're allowed to end them where they stand. Then you get your clean slate. Simple enough, isn't it?"

He folds his hands, leaning back. It feels like there won't be much more explanation from here on out, unless someone demanded it. This impression is reinforced by the Ventrue throwing a glance at his watch - an unfitting gesture considering the gravity of this matter.

Lloyd let out another low growl as he leaned forward in his seat, tapping one of his clawed fingers on the table. "So not only are we to find this murderer, but we are to babysit this Malkavian that at any moment that can point to some random kine and are to capture or kill it without a second thought?" He said with a sneer and a tone of annoyance. "Excuse the savage for not seeing the grave insight that was put into that plan, but who am I to question the all knowing Camarilla. Not like you have ever been wrong in the past." He said with the same scolding tone. He was still tapping his claw on the table, by this point he had made a decent sized scratch mark into the wood. Lloyd moved his gaze back over to the girl sitting in the corner. He looked her over a moment, his scolding expression seeming to soften for a moment as he did so. He turned back to James, regaining his icy glare. "And what if she 'foresees' that a Camarilla official is the or one of the murderers? Is it within our right to bring them their final death?" He said raising a brow slightly. "And if it's all the same I am not staying in this tower. The park down the way will suffice as a suitable replacement for the woods."

James narrows his eyes on Lloyd for a brief moment before answering in a surprisingly calm tone, considering those more provoking statements.
"Yes, Mister Haythorn, correct in all points. I am glad that you were able to follow. You don't have to bother with the grave insight of this undertaking, just with the execution. She says 'fetch', and you fetch, to put it bluntly." He keeps his neutral and cold stare up when Lloyd looks over to the girl. No indication is given if he is hiding his anger over the Gangrel, or if he truly feels indifferent about his words. His entire demeanor so far would imply the latter, but he might as well just be a pretty good actor.
"And, of course, you are free to act as you see fit -if- Seven declares a Camarilla offical as one of the culprits. You are to trust in her judgement, no exceptions. Not for the Camarilla, not for either one of you, not even for me." He doesn't even comment on Lloyds rejection of the apartments, obviously he could hardly care less. The same could be assumed for the condition the tables surface was in, by now.
"Anything else?", the Ventrue asks, surveying the faces of his other two guests at the table.

"Something isn't right about this. It's too... easy. If it was a simple murderer, even one who has killed several kindred, they would have released their new blooded dogs and be done with it." Verin thought to himself silently as the Gangrel spoke "And what about this Oracle? Perhaps she will lead us to the Murderer as he said, but what is her stake? And if she is so valuable why risk her on a mission like this... it's too odd. No, more than that, it's too simple, and with the Ventrue nothing is ever, simple."

"Seems straightforward enough." Verin said, a tone of boredom masking his inner thoughts "I do have two questions myself though. About our, equipment, both what was taken from us when we were arrested and what we might require, will you be providing them or will we be on our own. And secondly, expanding on what my more wild counterpart asked, what if our target is part of the Sabbat or a Glasswalker? Are we prepared for any retribution that may arise from this little adventure of ours?" "Better yet are we prepared for what we may discover." He added silently

As Verin speaks up, James turns his focus of attention on him. While looking at the Gangrel with a distinct hint of disdain, he seems either unsure or indifferent of what to think of the Brujah.
"Your belongings are waiting for you in the prepared apartments. If you need anything beyond that, speak up to me or any guard inside the building mentioning my name, and I'll see what I can do for you. But remember that officially, you're leading an investigation, not preparing for a war." At the latter question, he directs a theatric sigh.
"Considering that we strongly believe in someone on the inside of the tower being the culprit or working with them, we exclude the thought of a werewolf connection. The Sabbat would be unlikely, but arguably not impossible. -If- either of the two occurs, you're still obliged to disable or end them. You'll be under full protection should this situation arise. Everyone involved is officially acting under my direct command, and we take full responsibility of whatever consequences your actions cause. Assuming you -do- act within the limits your orders, that is. Needless to say, if you feel that Seven or anyone else of the team is endangered for whatever reason, return to the tower immediately." There was no pause in this last statement of his, yet it is somewhat obvious that the 'or anyone else' part was added on the fly. James briefly turns his attention to the woman who has yet to say a single word before looking back at Verin, should he feel like adding any more arguments.

Lloyd's natural sneer grew across his face, letting out another low growl, as James answered him as if he was a simpleton. The Venture may have been putting on a show to hide his true feelings, but Lloyd made no effort to hide his true feelings, his annoyance of the man showing on his face as clear as the yellow of his eyes. He only broke his glare when he heard the Brujah speak up. I hate to admit that this bastard is right, but I don't think the Garou would go out of their way like this. He thought to himself as he pondered the Kindred's words. After another moment Lloyd grew a crooked grin, his blood stained fangs being reviled. "You know what I'm going to hold you to your words Blue Blood." He said in his gravelly voice. "If we suspect that anyone of the Camarilla's finest is behind these 'horrid' acts I will make it my own personal duty to make sure they pay for their crimes." With that he brought the fingers he was taping on the table back towards him, leaving four deep claw marks in the wood of the table. His grin slightly as he eyed James. "No exceptions... sir." He added the sir in a slight mocking tone.

Verin settled into his seat, he was satisfied for now, and besides nothing new would be learned by interrogating the Ventrue. He cast a side look at the Lloyd, he had worked with Gangrel in the past, each one different in terms of their experience, yet they all seemed to share the trait of being fiercely independent to a fault. Yet he couldn't help but feel slightly relieved, the Ganrel were just as dangerous, if not more so, than his own Brujah clan mates, that made any part of the dangers of this mission seem less serious. Now the Oracle, Verin turned his attention to the Malkavian, he had spoken with some in his span of unlife, though he had never journeyed, fought beside, or in some sense follow one. "Well at least if we are being deceived, it will certainly be something to remember." He thought to himself, a small smirk crossing his face as he waited for the Ventrue to call off the guards that were most likely waiting out side and send them on their way.