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.
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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.