Some time around midnight there's the slow crunch of gravel and a dull coughing rumble as a run-down vehicle pulls into the parking lot.  A door opens and closes, and footsteps crunch forward.  A big man swings the door of the motel open.  He is tall, broad-shouldered, with a long trench coat.  Dark sunglasses cover his eyes.  There's the clear bulge of several concealed objects under his trenchcoat.

'Are we really so frail, Anarch?...'

Luceros voice taunts as soon as Cayden opens the door, his eyes wandering over all the bulges in the jacket.

'Or perhaps you've strapped a bomb to your chest and come to threaten me?..'

Lucero's distaste for anything but true sabbat is clear enough. He kicks muddied boots up onto the desk next to a filthy, rusty shovel. There is blood drying on his lips and chin, as well as his hands up to about halfway up his forearms. Messy eater, this templar...

Behind the sunglasses, iced green eyes peruse the Sabbat agent.  "If I thought ye frail I wouldnae be helpin' ye out, now would I?" he says in a very thick Irish accent.  "But as 'tis I figger I should lend a hand...enemy of me enemy an' all that, aye?  Besides, with the armistice there hasn't been much need fer a man of me talents.  Get's a wee bit borin' withou' somethin' to blow up."  He walks right up to the desk and grins, the grin of a man who takes a grim pride in his business, especially since that business is professional arson.  He looks about the seedy motel and smirks.  "Nice place ye got 'ere...has a certain Norman Bates charm t'it."  

--Last edited by Cayden McNevan on 2008-05-04 00:04:18 --

'It had its perks.' Lucero grins with bloodied teeth and fangs.

'Speaking of which, i have a job for you, anarch.'

"Well, that's what I'm 'ere fer innit?  Long as the payoff's well, an' yer not leadin me inta some trap."

'Shovelheads are for traps. You, sir, are for bombs.'

Lucero leans forward, his elbows on the desk.

'We may have lost our main supply of explosives and weapons. But thats where you come in. I want you to bring down a building for me... as a nice symbolic gesture. If you can do this for me you will be free to come and go as you please once we take this city.'

"Aye, jus' give me the location and any other details -- security, Kindred involvement, the like.  Not that I don' mind gettin me hands dirty, but bein' prepared is always a good idea."  He grins again.  He has enough weaponry and ammo in the back of his car to outfit a small guerrila squadron.  Sniper rifle, sub-machine guns, assault rifles, and a well-worn shillelagh for up-close and personal work.  Not to mention enough high explosives to level a small suburban development.

That is exactly what Lucero was counting on. He slides a photo across the desk to Cayden. Its a picture of Venture Estates, the second largest building in the city...

'There is security, but it seems to be nothing more than well paid rent-a-cops. Id guess the underground parking would be a logical place to blow from...'

Lucero suggests, but bombs arent really his thing. He continues:

'The Ventrue of this city take great pride in the building and you may take a few of them with it. How soon can you bring her to the ground?..'

As soon as he hears the word "Ventrue" his grin grows even wider.  He remembers the early day of his Embrace, learning the dark secrets behind the world that he was blind to as a mortal.  The way the Ventrue had supported, encouraged, and profited from the British occupation of Ireland.  And even if these American Ventrue had nothing to do with problems in Eire, Cayden was always more than willing to take any member of the clan and light a fire under their ass...literally.

"I can do it as soon as I can rig the appropriate bombs...somethin' simple, a timed fuse would do it.  I already have a few explosives ready.  Rig that with some gasoline and propane and ye should be good.  I saw a few cars out in the lot, mind if I use one of 'em?."  

'Theres a van around back, if you need the space.'

He suggests. He raises an arm to point at a set of keys hanging from a nail next to the door.

'Fat Benny's van, should do it, if you dont mind the blood.'

He snags the keys around his finger and twirls them.  "Well, I hope fat benny d'nae mind if I blow up his van.  If there ain't anythin else you'd be wantin' I think I'll make a little scoutin' run to check this place out meself."

'Benny is busy collecting worms, im sure he'd appreciate you using his van for such a noble purpose.'

That taken care of Lucero will stand, he has other things to attend to tonight that dont involve the motel...

Cayden walks out to the battered old van he drove in on, and the attached flatbed trailer with his bike.  The van is his long-range travel, his home on the road, outfitted as his stockpile, storage, and makeshift hideout.  The bike is for his intra-city comings and goings.  Efficient, fast, manueverable.  He lets down the ramp on the back of the trailer and walks the bike down before kicking it into gear and speeding off into the city.