If you can make it there... [Samantha intro]

[phil]

The door closed with a soft click behind Benedict, and Samantha stared at it pensively, raising her wrist so that she could lick the wound closed. The apartment was quiet but for the hum of the air conditioning, the decor tasteful, the large sliding glass door that led out to the balcony at once beautiful and a security liability. No matter. All had been attended to before she even stepped onto the corporate jet in LaGuardia.

Samantha walked toward the sliding doors, toeing off her cross trainers as she went, enjoying the deep pile of the carpet before stepping out onto the polished concrete. With a deep breath so that she could taste the air she placed both hands on the glass balcony wall and looked out over downtown Denver.

It was...small. A drop of water compared to Manhattan, the half dozen truly inspiring skyscrapers serving only to emphasize how pedestrian the other buildings were that clustered around their base. Twinkling lights of sparse traffic moved along the streets, and overhead the sky was vast, carnivorous, with only a sliver of a moon to light its impossible depths.

Slowly, Samantha blew out her breath, and did not bother to inhale again. Denver. A missing Prince, the Tower in disarray, Sabbat packs gone to ground, Anarchs grinding their multiplicitous desires against the whetstone of the current circumstances. Would she die here? Down on those streets, in a week, a month, a year? Very possible.

She leaned forward on her forearms, and began to catalog the steps that had to be taken. A report sent to her superiors that she had arrived. A Brujah primogen to introduce herself to. Staff to recruit. Security to be raised. Investments transferred to new, local targets so as to begin the sea change in her influence, drawing it from distant New York to this... this provincial city.

Denver.

Samantha gazed out over the parking lots, the tree lined avenues, the few impassive towers, the dark blank nothingness beyond. Plans were in motion. Wheels were spinning. The Camarilla would take back what was theirs. And she? She would do her part, no matter how small. But for now--a small sliver of excitement stirred in her belly. It was time to descend to the streets, and hunt.

[phil]

Samantha's nights become increasingly busy. Her apartment quickly reflects these changes. The living room furniture is removed, placed in her storage compartment on a basement level of the high rise she now resides in. A desk dominates the center of the room, facing the now blank wall, on which she prints out a floor to ceiling, wall to wall map of Denver, block by city block, a matter of ten minutes with the help of Google Maps. It gives her pleasure to stick each sheet carefully up on the wall, shorn of white borders. Gives her a completely illusory sense of control.

That done, she spends an hour simply investigating it. Anatomizing the city, tracing its arteries, its key points of entry and exit. Pulls up the crime map from Denver.org, and plots the right crimes on the map. Arson, murder, anything that speaks of the Sabbat, going back to three months before the official siege began. She identifies targets. Circles possibilities, takes notes, spends even more time simply learning street names and city landmarks.

She could do all this on the computer. But computers can be hacked, and this, this hearkens back to her years as a mortal, a process she has grown used to.

In tandem, she receives reports from Benedict, his analysis of the local sectors in Denver: political and financial. Corporations that have begun to act erratically since the Sabbat began their siege. She runs her own reports, does her own analysis on the real estate market, identifies the key players in town, then their owners. One group catches her attention, as she knew they would: RedPeak Properties. Owners of her own building, by chance. She examines their assets, their portfolio, pulls up information on the two men that own it, and their staff. Analyzes their past performance, and then begins to formulate strategies to insinuate herself into their group.

Of course there's more. Transportation. Logistics. Real estate infrastructure. It's a straight week of bringing herself up to speed, calling in favors from New York to gain access to privileged reports, simply grinding through endless tracts of data and recent history. She leaves her apartment only to hunt or for scheduled appointments - nothing else.