The black Mercedes pulls up to the curb, gleaming under the street lights like some giant polished beetle. The engine still runs, purring softly, barely audible over the sounds of the city at night. Heavily tinted windows wrap around the vehicle, keeping away prying eyes. Not that there are prying eyes around, at least not any that are visibles. Local Security and police keep the area free of vagrants and loiterers.
      Cyrus leans back in the car, soaking up the hot air blowing from the vents, trying to warm his dead flesh without much success. The lights from the console panel illuminate the interior with a pale blue glow. He reaches over to the center console and picks up his cell phone, and dials Sasha's phone, dreading that braying music that she has her ringtone.

Much to his surprise, it is not Sasha's horrendous hold-music which greets Cyrus, but an electronic voice of the typical text-to-speech variety.

Mister Crewe. Meeting is running long. Still attempting to ascertain a time and location for your introduction. Will advise.

How she programmed her phone to recognize his call and play a customized message is anyone's guess, but when it finishes, Cyrus will hear the familiar options for leaving a message.

 As he is listening to the message a red Lotus Exige pulls up behind him. A man in designer Gucci clothes steps out looking like a runway model and begins to meticulously remove his driving glasses and gloves, placing them carefully back in the car. He starts approaching the vehicle with as serious a look as he can muster. Sascha had borrowed his car and told him to meet this new member here. Having never met him, he is certainly expecting a grey haired white guy, nothing new in such a choosy clan.

As he gets to the window, he nods at the gentlemen inside, not seeing his details well. "Mr. Crewe? I am Valentine Mazzini, I was instructed by Ms. Moreau to collect you and show you the town. She regrets her business ran a bit late this evening, but certain delays could not be avoided," as he extends his hand in greeting.

"The night is yours sir, would you prefer we take my car or yours?"

'Ah, the miracles of modern technology', Cyrus thinks to himself, listening to the mechanized voice through the phone.It was obvious from the message left directly for him that Sasha wouldn't be available for a while yet. Time for a change in plans.
   The phone is still at his ear when bright lights flash across the rear view mirror through the darkened windows.A exotic looking red car has pulled in behind his parked SLK55, the driver quickly placing it into park, and opening the door to step out. As the driver steps out, Cyrus studies him, noting that he has not seen this person before. Some might call it paranoia, but to him it's called survival, and his hands shift to the wheel and shifter, ready to either back over the individual, or to tear away like a demon into the night.
  But the well dressed man, simply walks to towards his window, hands in plain sight, and introduces himself. Valentine Mazzini. He might have heard Sasha mention that name, but he can't be certain. But, if all was on the up and up, he could not let a clan mate stand there as such.
  He opens the door of the sporty Mercedes, stepping out, taking Valentine's hand in a firm handshake. He can see the momentary surprise flicker in Mr. Mazzini'z eyes. Perhaps he was expecting one of the stodgy old conservative members the clan was reknown for. But the surprise is replaces with a wince, as Cyrus's icy cold hand wraps around his, like a block of living ice. 'Probably wishes he had left those gloves on' Cyruse thinks, letting go of the other mans hand
     "Mr. Mazzini..a pleasure to meet you. I just received a message from Ms. Moreau stating that she would be detained for a while yet" He steps away from the car as he releases Valentine's hand from his grasp.
     "I've already been looking around the city a bit this evening, but without the benefit of someone who knows it. I would appreciate your input, Mr.Mazzini. The only place that I have seen indepth is a place called 'The Speakeasy'. Interesting place,..."
     He motions towards his car, the engine still purring softly behind them.
     "Why don't we take my car," he gestures towards the gleaming Mercedes as he speaks, chuckling slightly. "I would prefer something slightly less ...conspicuous. Especially as I was not at tonights little gathering."
    He opens the door to his car, and slides into the luxurious interior, noticing the look of appreciation on Valentine's face as he entered from the passenger side. It was hard not to appreciate quality.
    "Where shall we begin, Mr. Mazzini?"

 "The speakeasy ehh? I've never been there, hopefully better then that dive downtown they call a jazz joint. It's absolutely awful unless you are on a respirator and life support. Everyone there is more ancient then I am," with a laugh.

"Great car, I'm a bit fond of mine as well. It must run in our veins so to speak. As for where to, I usually hang at the Red Zone, an upscale club downtown, but there is a Casino as well. Either sound good, the Harpy runs the Lucky Star and if we are kind of laying low that might not be a good idea. We could always swing by the Zone and see who is about, Tommy is usually there and occasionally Jillian will swing by. We can also just drive around and I can show you the general layout," as the engine purrs capturing Valentine's attention.

"Sop where you from, Mr. Crewe? If you don't mind me asking. Ms. Moreau is a bit tight with the introductions so I usually have to do it myself. Hell it seems we have been the only ones here in Sanfield that have managed to thrive for quite some time."

"The Speakeasy is rather interesting establishment, especially you like jazz. But I spent more time in the VIP lounge, talking with it's owner, a Ms. Natasha Milliner."
   Cyrus glances at Valentine from the corner of his eye while he's speaking, looking for any reactions to the name he's just dropped. After all, any information, no matter how small can be useful, if just used the right way.  
    Valentine seems rather amiable, and continues to chatter away as he drives, pausing every now and then to listen appreciatively to the soft purr of the Mercedes engine. Cyrus has no idea who this Tommy or Jillian persons are, but forms of courtesy prevent him from interupting.
   "I'm not familiar with Tommy, ..or Jillin for that matter!" he says with brief shake of the head. " I'm afraid I've met very few people in town so far. The proverbial stranger in a strange land. The Red Zone would be fine, Mr. Mazzini. It wouldn't hurt me to appear sociable, now would it?" The statement is followed with a conspiratorial little wink, as though there some secret that just two of them were privy to.
   "As for myself, I am recently from New York,and let me tell you Mr. Mazzini, it is a world unto itself! But, our clan still thrives there in it's own ways, and I'm sure that we can make sure that it does the same here."
   

 "I wonder if she was that lady I saw at court. Guess I will eventually figure it out. As far as the regulars at the Zone, its good people to know. They are more our style and can get business taken care of. I'll introduce you, we should stick together after all," enjoying the ride and pointing out spots on the drive. Landmarks and places that should be known for any arriving kindred, especially a blue blood. We don't like making any 'errors' and actively work at avoiding any avoidable mishaps.

"New York, huh, I have never been there. I bet you don't have to drive miles to find a Gucci shop either," he doesn't mind Sanfield, but he hates the shopping. If he needs Prada, he should get Prada and he'll be remedying that shortly enough.

"It's up here on the right, you can park in that reserved spot. It's my spot," indicating the empty space ahead.

(Continued in the Red Zone)