The Black Prince strut into Ventrure, looking like punk had never died, and bringing the Nineteen-Eighties along with him. He loved a good entrance, and made sure that the Central District had one as they entered the Elysium of a rival turf. Well maybe not rivals, at least Jake hoped not or this was all a waste of time. He had a certain spring in his step, a sophisticated soft-shoe that made him almost glide across the floor. He had come to party, and had made sure he had the tools to do it. A group of about twenty humans and four vampires entered the club around opening time, quickly whisking to the second floor and being seated at VIP table. A few of the humans skittered about so the final seat count was a healthy twelve. The party was made up of White Rabbit regulars, and they seemed content to party whatever bar they were in.
Jake himself had dressed in dark denim jeans, with large motorcycle boots and a white t-shirt with several holes torn through it. A black leather jacket covered in silver studs covered the shirt and his hair had rather expertly been made into a Swoophawk, the Mohawk slowly folding down into Jake's signature bang swoop. The fade on the side helped to make the volume even greater, and black nails and eyeliner completed his punk boy fantasy. He was holding his gold cigarette case, and played with the latch as he laughed at one of his accompanying Brujah's jokes. The place looked good, the aesthetics crushing the rabbit on any day of the week. The vibe however was far to chill, and the volume coming from Jake's table had several mortals and Kindred alike going, "Is the Jake McCloud's table?" Good. Let them speculate and gossip. He wanted people to know he was here.
The District Leader had only come one other time to Venture and it had been a disaster. Scott had actually waved a gun around, and all because Bryant had kissed Conner. Conner. His face soured a bit. It had reminded him of why he'd had to go this route to get Charon's attention. Ben.
If Ben had been less of a horrible person he could've arranged this for Jake, and he would've been rewarded greatly for it. Instead, he'd filled Jake's head with doubts, and weakness and right when he poured on the last bit of gas, he'd lit Jake on fire. Jake had almost killed him for it. He'd stopped though, because he was trying to not be that guy anymore. He was trying to be better than his normal, violent self. He'd let him go completely unharmed, and hadn't even Dominated him. Jake had gone soft, and if he could do it again he would've taken one of Ben's arm. It happened the way it happened and Jake had decided to move on. Lazarus would soon be tasked with destroying Ben's life somehow. That would be a fitting punishment. He'd come early because he wanted to start filling the place up a bit. He'd heard that Ben came early, and if he did oh well. What would he do? He doubted Charon would throw Jake out and risk a political conflict. If Ben wished to speak he'd have to come over and talk to him, and since he thought so little of Jake that was unlikely to happen.
He shook that toxic little power leach out of his mind, and returned to the club. He'd be finding a snack soon. He wanted to try the private rooms. When in Rome right? However, he more looked for the eye of the owners, The Sacramentum. It seemed time for a talk, and Jake figured bringing him some business might grease the wheel. He'd never met Charon, but had heard stories about his mysterious powers and his Nosferatu like appearance. He had no idea what he would be like, and made zero assumptions. He only knew it was time the men had a face to face. His accompanying party was prepared for a long night of booze, games, and for the vampires feeding. He stretched back, throwing his arms behind his head. It felt like a good night.
