Third Night. Part 4.

Alexander goes back the Opium Nightclub in the Waterfront District, looking for answers about who might have taken the content of Mateo's cache.

Monday. 00:30. Opium Nightclub. Waterfront District.

We need to test the scene. Rolled a 7. Over the chaos factor. Scene goes as planned.
Alexander arrives at the Opium Nightclub, a neon-gothic themed club in the Waterfront District, close to the cannals. He quickly makes his way inside, feeling the unconfortable throb of hunger like a red-hot piece of iron in his throat. The absurd amount of noise in the club doesn't make it any better - he'd preferred if the place was still empty, like last night.

The Opium Nightclub pulsed against the quiet waters of the canal like a living thing. Its façade was a masterpiece of neon decadence—sharp crimson and electric violet lights outlined its gothic arches, casting a surreal glow over the cobbled streets of the Waterfront District. Tendrils of mist snaked out from the dark waters nearby, curling around the feet of patrons who laughed and chattered as they queued under the flickering sign that proclaimed, in ornate script, Opium.

Inside, the club was a cathedral of chaos. The throbbing beat of industrial music hit Alexander like a physical force, the bassline rattling through the cavernous space. Gilded gargoyles and wrought-iron chandeliers loomed overhead, dripping with strings of LED lights that shifted from blood red to deep indigo in rhythm with the music. The air was heavy with heat and bodies, a heady mix of sweat, perfume, and alcohol swirling with the faint tang of blood beneath it all.

Alexander wove through the crowd with practiced precision, his dark coat brushing past throngs of dancers whose movements were frenzied, hypnotic. The floor trembled underfoot, alive with the energy of the club, and every strobe of light illuminated a different tableau: laughter at the bar, whispered conversations in shadowed booths, the sharp glint of piercings on a dancer’s skin.

But the hunger. It gnawed at him like a beast straining against its chains, a red-hot brand in his throat that pulsed with every heartbeat he could hear in the room. The sound of blood coursing through veins was deafening, each body around him a temptation wrapped in noise and heat. He clenched his jaw, his fangs threatening to bare themselves unbidden.

Soon, however, he recognizes the voice singing - it's Lina Moreno! She's performing, singing and dancing at the stage, under the name of Dusk.
Kane thinks about finding a place to sit - but he soon finds that the allure of dancing bodies is too much, and decides to hunt as he awaits for Lina to finish her act.

He'll first scan the crowd for girls who seem interested in him already. Rolling "Secure an Advantage" - 8, 9. It'd be a miss, but I'll burn my focus to make it into a Strong Sucess: +2 focus and +1 on my next roll.
Now I'll roll the Feed move vs Glamour + 1 (7). Weak hit. I'll feed and keep the victim, alive and unaware after our "make out", but I'll lose 1 focus.

Question: how long does it take for Lina to leave the stage? 1d3 hours. 3. It'll be 4 in the morning when she's done. Cutting too close to the sun for confort, Alexander - let's hope Lina can find him a place to stay in the Opium. Maybe the basement? I'll ask when time is right.
Alexander will find somewhere to sit, watching the crowd as he wait for Lina. When she finishes, he'll go after her: "We need to talk."

The haunting melody hit him first, cutting through the bass-heavy pulse of the club like a siren’s call. Alexander paused mid-step, the hunger in his veins momentarily dulled by recognition. On the stage, bathed in a seductive interplay of crimson and indigo lights, Lina Moreno—known here as Dusk—commanded the room. Her voice was smoky and powerful, a sound that drew the crowd like moths to a flame. Every word seemed to ripple through the dancers, her presence amplified by the way she moved with effortless grace, her dark hair a cascade of shadows against her sequined black dress.

Alexander lingered at the edge of the crowd, his hunger momentarily suppressed by the sight of her. Lina was more than a performer; she was a force. Yet, as much as he wanted to find a quiet corner and wait, the throbbing music, the heat of bodies, and the scent of sweat and blood were an irresistible lure. The pulse of life around him was maddening, each heartbeat in the room tugging at the fragile chains of his control.

He let himself be drawn into the throng of dancers, his sharp eyes scanning the crowd for someone already enthralled. It didn’t take long. A young woman near the edge of the floor caught his gaze, her attention flickering to him repeatedly, her smile shy but inviting. Her rhythm faltered for a moment as she noticed him moving toward her, his presence magnetic, his predatory elegance impossible to ignore.

Alexander danced closer, weaving between other bodies with ease. The music seemed to slow as he reached her, their movements synchronizing naturally. He leaned in, speaking a few carefully chosen words that made her laugh, her interest blooming into full-blown intrigue. It wasn’t long before the distance between them dissolved entirely.

Moments later, he led her to a shadowed alcove off the main floor. Their exchange blurred into a tangle of whispers and touches, her breath hitching as he brushed his lips along her neck. His fangs extended just enough, piercing her skin delicately, a silent promise of pleasure and oblivion. She sighed against him, her body yielding as he drank, the fiery hunger in his throat easing with every drop.

When he pulled back, her eyes fluttered open, her expression hazy but content. Alexander brushed her hair from her face, murmuring a few more words to leave her unaware of what had transpired. He guided her back to the edge of the dance floor, blending seamlessly into the crowd as she rejoined her friends, none the wiser.

The hunger satisfied—for now—Alexander found a seat at a booth tucked into the far corner of the club. From there, he watched Lina’s performance, her voice weaving spells over the crowd, her every movement captivating. Minutes stretched into hours, the club’s energy unwavering as dawn crept closer.

Finally, as the last note of her act faded and the crowd erupted into applause, Alexander rose, his focus sharpening. He made his way toward the stage entrance, intercepting her as she stepped backstage. She was still catching her breath, her face flushed from the performance, when he caught her eye.

“We need to talk,” he said, his voice low, cutting through the din like a blade.

Lina raised an eyebrow, her lips curling into a faint, knowing smirk. “Alright, Pope. What’s so important it couldn’t wait?”

Alexander needs to go backstage with her, if he is to have any chance of getting the truth out of her. I'll roll to activate Sixth Sense so I can get a bonus on trying to maneuver her. Rolling vs 7. 4, 1. Strong hit. +1 focus and +1 on the next roll.
Alexander, knowing Lina is cautious but that has a great self-preservation instinct, will try to leverage that by saying there's trouble in the area. "It could be bad", he says. "Let's talk inside."
Rolling to Compel (6) + 1. Weak hit. "Their agreement comes with a demand or complication. Envision their counteroffer." + 1 focus.
Rolling on the action table. 63, 53. Neglect location. Lina accepts taking him to her room backstage, but when they arrive there, she tells him that she will help - but that she's looking for a new gig, the Opium isn't paying as much as usual, and asks him to pull a few strings, when he's able, to get her a new gig somewhere.
Alexander is happy with that - he calls Donovan right there, tells him he's with this great girl and performer called Dusk, which specializes in somber and neon-gothic music. Asks him if the people at the Blue Grove Hotel, the fancy 5star hotel in Downtown where Donovan is hanging nowadays, wouldn't like to have her perform there one of those nights.
Does Donovan accepts? Very likely. 53. He does.
Alexander thanks him, gives Lina Crow's contact, and then proceeds to business.

The bass-heavy music of the Opium seemed to fade into the background as Alexander stepped into the backstage corridor with Lina. The air was cooler here, tinged with the scent of sweat and old leather from the performers’ costumes. Lina moved ahead of him, her steps quick and confident, but he could feel the tension radiating from her—subtle, but unmistakable.

When they reached her dressing room, Lina swung the door open and stepped inside, leaving it ajar for him to follow. The room was cramped but functional, lit by the soft glow of a ring light around the mirror. A clutter of makeup, costume jewelry, and half-empty bottles of water littered the vanity. Posters of past performances adorned the walls, their edges curling slightly from the moisture in the air.

Alexander closed the door behind him, leaning against it for a moment before speaking. “It’s bad, Lina,” he said, his voice low but firm. “There’s trouble in the area—real trouble. We need to talk.”

She studied him for a moment, then sighed, brushing her dark hair over one shoulder. “Alright,” she said, gesturing to the couch tucked in the corner. “We’ll talk. But if I’m going to help you, I need something in return. The Opium isn’t paying like it used to,” Lina admitted, her voice tinged with frustration. “I need a new gig. Something better. Pull a few strings for me, and I’ll tell you what I know.”

Alexander didn’t hesitate. He reached for his phone, dialing a number from memory. The faint buzz of the call was a quiet backdrop as he watched Lina lean back against the vanity, her dark eyes fixed on him.

“Donovan,” Alexander said when the line clicked. “I’ve got someone you need to meet. She’s a phenomenal performer—neon-gothic, somber tones, everything the Blue Grove crowd loves. Her name’s Dusk. Can you make it happen?”

There was a pause on the other end, then Donovan’s familiar drawl. “Consider it done. Send me her contact.”

Alexander smirked faintly, ending the call and handing Lina a card with Crow’s number scrawled on it. “You’ll hear from him soon,” he said. “You’ve got your gig.”

Lina’s lips curved into a smile—not a full grin, but a quiet satisfaction. She tucked the card into her clutch, giving him a nod of approval. “Thanks, Pope. Now, what’s this trouble you’re so worried about?”

Alexander explains to Lina how the guys she's seen around the docks aren't the real problem - the real problem are the guys they are there dealing it, and then he describes the typycal military-hunter type to her, without explaining who they are. Military types, tactical boots, dogtags, probably walking around like they own the place, asking weird questions about customers.
Has Lina seen those guys? Likely. 3. EXTREME yes.
Not only Lina has seen those guys, but a few of them were there at the Opium that very night.
Alexander asks her to tell him more.
Rolling for Gather Information+1. 10, 9. It's a miss. Your investigation unearths a dire threat or reveals an unwelcome truth that undermines your quest
Rolling on the action table: 3, 42. Activate idea.
Lina tells him about the guys who were there that very night. Describes their behaviour... but she seems off. At some point, she sighs and decides to come clean: "They were asking about you. And they said your name is Kane, 'Pope'."
Kane admits to her that Pope was an alias - but she probably figured that out already. He asks her what did she tell them, but she didn't tell them anything. Still, the guys are looking for him. They know he's on to them, which means - and he doesn't tell her that, of course - that the Epitaph Order knows he's digging. That's a BIG problem. He loses his words for a momment, and asks her to tell him more about the guys.
Rolling on the action table. 85, 9. Strange building. They seemed off, asking weird questions that did not seem to add up. The guys were built in a weird way for military too - one of them was too skinny, the other was kind of fat.
Question: did Lina get a name? A card? Something? 50/50. 37. YES! The leader of the guys gave her a card, and she was willing to give it to Kane. It said: "STAKE: Private Security & Investigators". The name on the card was Angel Jackson.
Lina seemed worried - about herself, mostly, but also about Kane. He was honest: it really was trouble for him, but he doubted that it was really trouble for her. They had no reason to suspect her of any involvement, specially because she was not really involved in anything.
After the conversation ended, it was almost 5am - the sun was almost up. Taking a leap of faith, Alexander asked her to let him crash in the basement, because he's spent. She thinks it's extremely weird, but ends up accepting - after all, why not? And that's where we end the night.

Lina sat on the edge of the vanity, her arms crossed as Alexander began to explain. The faint hum of the Opium’s dying energy seeped through the walls, the club emptying out as dawn approached. Alexander leaned forward slightly, his words deliberate, his gaze sharp.

“It’s not the guys around the docks you need to worry about,” he said, his voice low, steady. “It’s the ones they’re dealing with. Military types. Tactical boots, dog tags, the kind of men who ask questions they shouldn’t be asking.”

Lina’s expression shifted, her usual guarded demeanor replaced with something sharper, more focused. She tilted her head slightly, her dark eyes narrowing. “They’ve been here,” she said, her tone cutting through the quiet like a knife. “Tonight, in fact.”

Alexander froze, his gaze locking with hers. “Here? At the Opium?”

She nodded, her fingers drumming lightly on her arm. “A group of them. They were watching the crowd, asking questions. Weird questions about customers.” She hesitated, her voice lowering. “And about you.”

That last part hit like a bullet. Alexander straightened, his shoulders tense. “What did you tell them?”

“Nothing,” Lina said quickly, holding his gaze. “But they knew your name, Kane. And they knew your alias. They called you ‘Alexander Kane.’” Her lips curled into a faint smirk, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Figured Pope wasn’t your real name. Thought you’d be more creative.”

He didn’t answer immediately, his thoughts racing. The Epitaph Order wasn’t just aware of him—they were hunting him, and now they had a face and a name. He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “They know I’m onto them,” he murmured, more to himself than to her.

Lina’s brows knitted, her tone shifting from sharp to wary. “These guys... they didn’t feel right,” she said. “One of them was twitchy, skinny as a rail. The other was built like a linebacker who let himself go. Not what you’d expect from military.”

Alexander frowned. “What else?”

She reached into her clutch and pulled out a business card, holding it between two fingers. “The leader—Angel Jackson—gave me this. Said they were with some private security outfit. Stake, or something.”

Alexander took the card, the embossed letters glinting faintly in the room’s dim light: STAKE: Private Security & Investigators. It felt heavy in his hand, the name and logo buzzing faintly in his mind. He slipped it into his coat pocket, his expression unreadable.

“This isn’t your problem, Lina,” he said after a moment, his voice quieter. “They’re not after you.”

“That doesn’t mean I’m not worried,” she replied, her arms still crossed. “Trouble has a way of spreading.”

He nodded, conceding the point, but didn’t elaborate. They sat in silence for a moment, the weight of the conversation settling between them. Outside, the faint glow of dawn began to seep through the edges of the room, threatening to spill over into the city.

Alexander glanced at her, his exhaustion evident. “I need one more favor,” he said. “Let me crash in the basement. ”

Lina stared at him, her brows lifting. “The basement? That’s... weird. Even for you.”

She sighed, rubbing the back of her neck. “Fine. But only because you’ve already made this night complicated enough.”

Alexander managed a faint smile. “Thanks, Lina. You won’t regret it.”

Her smirk returned, this time genuine. “You say that now.”

As she led him down to the basement, the air grew cooler, the weight of the night pressing harder against him. The makeshift space was dark and cluttered, lined with storage boxes and forgotten equipment. It wasn’t much, but it would do.

“Don’t make a mess,” Lina said as she turned to leave. “And don’t make me regret this.”

With that, she disappeared up the stairs, leaving Alexander alone with his thoughts. The night had been long, and the days ahead promised to be longer still. But for now, in the shadowed stillness of the basement, he could rest.