Hauberk leads you southwest to Somerset Street, following it for a few blocks past the ornate arch leading to Chinatown.
Why would Ward want you here of all places? You watch for any other Kindred or ghouls along the way. Nobody you recognize. The Camarilla aren't going to know you're out here.
The Gangrel turns right and heads north onto a residential street that would have been straight as an arrow if not for the almost randomly placed concrete barriers circling individual trees crowding out the sidewalk. Eventually, you turn left into an empty lot between houses. It's an odd place for an assassination. Too many civilians, too close to the main street for a prolonged fight to go unnoticed. You let yourself relax. Just a little.
"Agad the Imperishable!" a familiar voice booms out of the shadows as Robert Ward steps away from a wall at the rear of the empty lot. Gone are his workman-like clothes, smudged denim overalls have been replaced by fine Armani business-wear that must have been tailored specifically to fit his massive frame. He must be moving up in the world. The Anarch points a meaty finger at an expensive-looking watch. "I was getting worried, Hauberk. But you didn't disappoint."
An unfamiliar voice speaks up from the shadows. "You didn't tell me he was a Ventrue, Robert. I'm disappointed. The Blue Bloods have no reason to be sympathetic to our cause. All they care about is grinding Kindred and kine beneath their feet, only stooping down to see how much coin they can extract from the bodies. You'd better be right about this."
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