Your target and their allies have been tasked with extracting a piece of information from a member of an opposing faction or subfaction but they cannot break the understanding to do so.
Once Samantha is left alone, things are quiet for a few long moments. Then, her phone begins to ring, even if it normally wouldn't. In all likelihood, it's an important call.
Samantha glances down at her phone, sighing as she pulls the thing up and places it against her cheek. "This is Sammy," she says as she begins to climb up the stairs, heading back toward the bedroom.
Samantha feels a moderate desire to start looking up some things about hypnosis.
Samantha thinks; "I don't know what I'm going to do about Nicole. Dimes to dollars she's going to come back after talking to Azura and freak out on me again now that we're doing it this way, but ... I think this is the only way it'll work. Still, it does feel nice to take control of the angel. Maybe she secretly does want to be a toy..."
"We've been keeping an eye on your progress, Miss White," speaks the voice on the other line. Samantha may recognize it as one of her contacts within Tyrell, "We think you could be doing more. We have a job for you. And your allies, if you like."
"Ah, Mr. Jones," Samantha says as she settles into her chair, frowning a little as she hears what the voice has to say and shaking her head. "Yeah. If you have any particular job, I'm listening. We were recruiting, stabilizing. We're ready to move forward now."
Samantha thinks; "Fuck. This is exactly what I was worried about."
"One of our agents captured a saboteur, hiding in Haven. Trusting Sanctuary to protect him," Mister Jones explains to Samantha calmly, "We don't have any teams nearby with the... skills necessary to get the information we need. That's where you come in. You're our resource in Haven. Time to be useful. Yes?"
"Yeah, of course," Samantha says as she begins to tap into her phone, her fingers dancing over the keyboard in front of her and bringing up her tracking software, eyes looking over the screen and scanning the numbers for anything that seems unusual. This kind of thing has seemed much easier for her, ever since the Pact, and her familiarity with technology makes the numbers almost sing to her. "Got anything for me to go on? We have new people coming in and out of this town every day, but I'd like to bring up what I can about him before I meet him. Makes it easier to pull his levers."
"The agent is on her way to your office. Gather up who you need and meet her there. The saboteur is a werewolf. Redwood pack. Old thorn in our side. Find out how he got into our facilities to do his work. We need to plug the security hole. We can't strip Sanctuary for you, so get as creative as you can," the man on the phone explains to Samantha, "We don't have a name. Seems to be a pretty new member. No records on him. The agent has been instructed not to engage verbally. Don't want to sour your interrogation before you get there."
"No, I think whatever I'm going to be doing here, I'm going to be doing it alone. People seem to rather be judgmental of my methods lately, and I'm getting tired of having to explain myself to them. Let me swing by the Market quickly, and I'll be out there," Samantha says as she pushes out from her chair, frowning as she closes down the game session she had started, and shaking her head out. "Fucking werewolf, huh?" she asks, heading out the door and cabin, toward her car.
"As you like, Miss White," says Mister Jones, in that condescending way only a polite business man can manage. There's a click of the phone as the line goes dead, the man having apparently hung up. Nothing unusual happens on the way to the car or the market. The action seems likely to be at the robotics firm, as promised.
At the Market, Samantha gathers a few bags of high-grade silver, the kind she uses for her arrowheads, and a few syringes from the alchemy room on the way out. She also stops by a pharmacy, heading straight to the natural goods section and buying a small vial of the colloidal silver that is there, humming to herself quietly as she does so and holding it to the light. "Well," she says, "Sorry you have to deal with me after I had to put up with Dante's shit, little puppy," she says with a low voice, before making it to her office, happy with the supplies she's gathered.
When Samantha arrives, it looks like... someone or other has closed the shop early. Blinds are closed. Front door is locked, including a makeshift sign stating that the shop will be open again after today at regular hours. There's one car parked in front. The sort of 'inconspicuous' van that ends up being all-too-conspicuous despite itself.
"... Christ, these guys are fucking amateurs," Samantha mutters to herself as she walks into the building unlocking and locking it behind her, heading past the reception area and towards the office in back and upstairs where she assumes her captive is being held, rolling her shoulders slowly as she hums to herself, pausing for just a moment before heading upstairs to check her makeup and freshen her perfume.
Samantha applies medium makeup.
Samantha sprays on some rectangular bottle of pink perfume.
Samantha thinks; "Every chance I'll have to blow this guy to drop his Sanctuary. Might as well look good doing it."
Unfortunately, Samantha doesn't get that far. The captive seems to have been left at the bottom of the stairs. Next to him is a timid, bookish looking young woman in a skirt suit. She looks more like an intern in over her head than an actual professional. The scruffy young man tied up at the base of the stairs still has the syringe poking out of his arm. "I-I'm sorry! He's just... he's too heavy to get up the stairs. Please don't tell Mister Jones," she pleads.
"You're fine," Samantha says to the woman, looking at the man on the floor and sighing as she walks up to him. She drags him closer to her for a moment, finding the syringe in his arm and pulling it out, tossing it to the side. She idly unbuckles the captive's belt, if he has any, and unbuttons and unzips his pants, not doing anything further there before she checks his bindings, nodding once. "Tell me about him," she says, straddling his waist and sinking her weight onto him, but not actively trying to wake him yet.
"I'm sorry," the young woman blurts out again, scurrying over and lowering down to pick up the syringe. She doesn't look entirely sure what to do with it, eventually going over to her purse (stashed by the wall) and depositing it there. The man is dressed pretty basic. Jeans, boots, wife-beater t-shirt. There is a belt, but it's gone quickly with Samantha's effort. The bindings are... serviceable. Or would be, if he weren't a werewolf. There's a good chance he could slip out if left on the floor as he is. "Um, he apparently broke in to the Artemis project - I didn't tell you that! - and took a magnet to all the computers there. The scryers tracked him down to a motel, and that's where I stuck him with the-..." she lifts up her purse vaguely, looking sheepish, "Then I brought him here, like Mister Jones told me."
"Go to the Goblin Market. Get some silver chains and a collar," Samantha says to the young woman. "Or, like, I really hope you have some in the truck. I'll keep him out and wait here for you." She glances at the woman. "And hurry the fuck up. You didn't even put a fucking naturalizer collar on him?"
Samantha thinks; "No way he just deleted everything. He's got a copy he dumped somewhere. Too much valuable information on it. Now to find out who got it..."
"The goblin-...?" wonders the intern, visibly confused. Silver chains she understands, though. She nods to that, "I think we have some in the back, yeah! Okay, I'll be right back." There's a little whimper as she's yelled at, and she hurries away and out the door. There's a groan from the man on the ground, and subtle movement as the drugs start to wear off.
"Don't worry, baby," Samantha says, her voice quiet as she brings her head down to the man's ear. She's careful to keep her her hair from tickling him, her breath directed away as she says, "Stay asleep. It'll all be okay soon. I'm taking care of it." She does try to prime his mind to do so, shaking her head a little after.
Samantha attempts to keep the man asleep using lust, peerpressure and gratitude with psychic persuasion(1)
Samantha (Internally) also keeps her hand on her pendulum, ready to put him into a trance, just in case.
The man's head rolls, looking like he's about to wake up. But the drugs make him vulnerable to Samantha's influence, and psychic persuasion is useful for taking advantage of just that kind of weakness. He seems to go straight back to snoozing, though it's likely he'll be easier to wake again as the drugs wear off. The intern returns, carrying an armful of silver chains, a collar in one of her hands, "Is this the nature collar you wanted? I didn't see any nature-looking ones, I hope this is it..."
Samantha reaches for the things, taking the collar first and looking it over. She'd likely be able to recognize the piece of machinery immediately, and she doesn't say a word, only putting it on if it is or tossing to the side if it's not. Then she takes the silvered chains, wrapping them tightly around the man's arms and legs both, quickly tying the knots. When she seems satisfied, she slaps the man across the face, suddenly, hard.
The intern isn't completely incompetent. Just close. The collar is what Samantha required; it's easy enough for her to tell, and it goes on the man with little trouble. He stirs a little, but he doesn't wake just yet. The intern looks relieved as the heavier chains are taken. They seem to be steel; only plated with silver, but given silver being the weaker metal, this is likely ideal. At the slap, both the man and the intern jump a little. The latter lets out an, "Oh, god." The man wakes up, clearly groggy, "what the... where am I?"
"You're here to have some fun with me," Samantha says to the man, a grin in her voice as she brings both hands up to cup his chin, her hips starting a playful little roll as she looks into his eyes. "You've been a very bad boy. I've been hearing things. But I live here," she murmurs, her eyes lowering to half-lids. "I like bad boys. So I had my girlfriend here come get you for me."
There's a bit of a blush on the intern's cheeks, fidgeting her hands. One hand raises up to give the scruffy man a nervous little wave, then it moves to push up her classes on her nose a bit. The scruffy man isn't buying it, not one bit: "What, are you with Tyrell? I won't talk to you fuckers." He starts to struggle against the binds, the agitation of the silver against his skin becoming clear now.
"Hm? No, I run the Advocacy," Samantha says to the man, shrugging her shoulders. "And it's been a while since I've gotten to feed, so I thought you and I might have a little fun," she purrs, beginning to roll her hips again. "Won't you tell me all about what it is you've been doing?" she wonders, again using her psychic pressure on those words, angling her hips down to try to put pressure on his groin as she does so.
Samantha attempts to make the man tell all about what it is he's been doing using lust, fear and anger with psychic persuasion(1)
The man watches this, frowning and struggling against his bonds. The drugs have worn off, and the discomfort from the bonds seems to make the seduction a little less effective. He mind rebounds the psychic efforts with a moderate amount of force. "Fucking up the megacorps, what do you think? Fuckers are raping the planet, and you're sitting there like their own little lap dog," the man bites out. All bark and no bite, for the moment.
"Alright," Samantha says, her voice soft, "That was pretty much the wrong thing to say," she says quietly, humming as she does so and reaching into a bag near her, still settled quite contently on the man's lap. Yes, it had backlashed her, but she knew that he was suffering for it more than her. The syringe comes out, as well as the bottle of colloidal silver. "I hear you think you're safe in this town, is that right? Well. There's three words you can speak. Revocacionem, followed by protectione sanctuarium. Saying those three words is the only way this will end," she says, turning her feeding on to full force with a thought, reaching for his fear, and pulling out the syringe, slipping a needle onto the end of it. "Or, we can fuck," she adds, beginning to fill the vessel with that thick, blue liquid.
Samantha says, adding, "All I want to know is how you did it. I'm not even here to kill you."
"Bite me," the man answers back after Samantha's initial comments, "Yeah. I know about Haven. You can't hurt me." The fear is there. Samantha can feel it to feed off; a lot of this is false bravado, even if not all of it is. He looks to the bottle, "... what's that?" The intern speaks up, nervously, "Yes, just how he did it. You're- you're not supposed to ask him about the project. Please." She flinches a little, as if expecting a slap of her own next. The way she stands sentry over the process, despite clearly not wanting to be here, may suggest that it's the reason she stuck around.
"That's kind of your thing," Samantha says to the man, not bothering to flick the syringe at all. "The biting. Now, people have some pretty fun interpretations of what Sanctuary does and doesn't mean. It doesn't mean I can't hurt you. I can cause agony. It means I can't do serious, lasting harm," she says, pushing the needle into his upper arm. "You don't recognize colloidal silver?" she asks, pressing her thumb against the plunger of the syringe and pushing the liquid directly into his bicep.
You tell Samantha 'I have a log saved. Cleaning them is just a pain. Mind if I log this one, too? Or rather not?'
Samantha tells you 'That's fine!'
The man struggles, trying to pull away from the needle. Until it goes in, at least. Whether from fear, or Sanctuary preventing him from injuring himself too far, he stops. "Silver?" he wonders. As he sees the thumb move on the plunger, he starts to let out, "No, no, stop! Fuck, no! I'll tell you anything!" hoping to keep her from performing the injection.
Samantha holds her thumb on the plunger instead of depressing it, her brow lifting. "I'm waiting," she says, her voice soft.
Samantha feels a strong desire to make him suffer anyway.
"Look, look, okay. You don't have to- just let go of it, okay? You're freaking me out here," he pleads. Whether she does or not, he blurts out, "Okay. So we hear about this project, right? They're building magic-" He's cut off. The nervous intern speaks up, "Skip that part, please!" She steps closer, reaching into her bag. Whatever she's going for remains hidden. The man takes the hint, "Anyway, it's Gary. Gary... Brightman? He's not a wolf, but he's in on our cause. He let us in."
"And how do I know you're not lying to me?" Samantha wonders to the man, glancing only briefly at the intern as she keeps her thumb on the plunger. She gives a little slow, playful roll of her hips. "We can still have fun instead of this being awful for you, you know," she whispers, "But only if you weren't lying to me, and aren't leaving -anything- out."
Despite the man's discomfort, the continued teasing is having a fairly obvious affect on the man. "I swear, man. It was Gary, okay? Please, just let me go. I told you everything, okay?" he pleads, eyeing the syringe with a clear panic.
Samantha thinks; "I could feed so much on him... and might be able to kill him if I make him red. I'm sure they wouldn't mind that. But I'm not feeling like I've not been feeding enough. And he is a fucking wolf. Will be much more fun making him scared, going back and forth on him like this."
Samantha glances toward the intern, looking at her. "Gary Brightman?" she asks, letting the question hold in the air as she keeps rocking on the man below her, bringing her other hand to his cheek. "That name mean anything to you?" she asks, a victorious grin on her face.
"I wouldn't know," the intern admits, fishing around for her phone, "They don't let me down there. Let me check with Mister Jones." She starts dialing, turning her back on the pair and wandering out of earshot for the moment. The man seems to be enduring a whole other kind of torture at Samantha's rocking, though his chains and the needle are both troubling him as well.
"You want me, don't you?" Samantha whispers to the man below her, one hand going and the reason she unbuckled his jeans earlier becoming apparent as she slides her hand into them, wrapping them around him and holding it. "I can tell. If this is enough, you have something to think about. Either we fuck, and I slit your throat when we climax, or you leave Haven and never fuck with Tyrell again, or I find you and slit your throat after filling your veins with silver."
"You're an evil bitch," the man groans out between clenched teeth, more desperate than venomous. There's a little groan at the contact of her hand. He seems to have to actually think about it for a brief fraction of a second, "I'll leave. Please, just let me go."
"Are you sure?" Samantha asks, pouting a little as her fingers dance over the man's shaft, pressing her thumb against the head with a little grin on her face. "You would be able to put it wherever you want, you know," she whispers, waiting for the intern to make her way back.
Samantha feels a mild desire to find out what anal with an actual guy feels like.
"Man, I don't want to die," he whines in a manner far less manly than his appearance, though the way he squirms against Samantha suggests he's nearing the edge already. The intern does return, now, looking sheepish. She spots what's going on, then starts to turn around, embarrassed, then realizes she can't do that. So she lingers near the pair, using a hand to shield her eyes, "Mister Jones had his people run another background check. Found discrepancies. Seems like the... him. He told the truth. We have our plugged leak."
"Lovely," Samantha says, and the instant she says it, she lets go of the man's cock and instead pushes the plunger in fully, standing up after and brushing off her thighs with a grin. "Dump him at the edge of town. He won't be coming back here."
The man is screaming in sheer agony almost instantly. He thrashes against his bonds as he burns from the inside. The intern looks pale and horrified, but she doesn't protest. She just... lingers there near him. "I-... I'll take care of it, Miss White. Th-thank you," she offers awkwardly.
Samantha giggles as the man is screaming, walking up to the girl and cupping her cheek with one hand and saying in a low voice, "And let me know when you're back in town... we'll go grab a drink," she whispers, batting her lashes. With that, she starts to head out of the shop.