The alleyway used to access Bouchard's area of the sewers seems almost unnaturally quiet, the air still and unnerving. You kneel down and ready yourself to open the manhole cover when you hear a footstep several feet away, behind a dumpster. Slowly standing up again, you scan the area for observers, listening keenly for the slightest sound. Had you been mistaken? No, there it is again, this time at the other end of the alley. You race to the spot, but there's no one there.
You spend a minute poking around, and even peek up and down the street on the other end of the alley, but in the end you come up with nothing. It must have been your imagination after all.
Next
You open the manhole to Bouchard's region of the sewers and descend into the dark crawl spaces beneath the city, replacing the cover as you go. The rungs of the ladder have been worn clean by the hands of too many Kindred—a month or two from now the Sewer Rats will have to replace it with something more appropriately dingy to cover their tracks. The last thing the Nosferatu need is for these areas to give the appearance of frequent travel. You follow the cramped passageway for several twists and turns, avoiding the muck as best you can until you hear the sound of muted voices echoing lightly off the curved brick walls up ahead. Unsurprisingly, Qui and Bouchard are in the middle of an argument.
"We can't give the Usurpers time to prepare, Michel," Qui says. "We hit them hard from the south with overwhelming force. Make them flee. I have mercs set up by all the exits to the north, ready to take them down as they run. They'll have no time for rituals or counterattacks."
Bouchard's growl reverberates through the sewer as you near the gathering. "It's not wise," he gurgles. "Last we all knew, they were seen in Quebec—we don't even know why they're here. If we slaughter them all without knowing why, Prince Annabelle will crush me in retaliation. It's my domain; I have a right to decide how they're dealt with!"
"Your 'rights' end where my duties as Sheriff begin, Michel," Qui says. You're almost there now and you can hear their conversation as clearly as if you were right beside them. "Annabelle has always been reasonable. If she didn't go on the offensive when Arundel brought in the Banu Haqim, then she won't when we punish the Warlocks for attacking a Primogen and violating the Traditions. Quebec City isn't exclusively Tremere. She has other worries to concern her—Ottawa isn't the center of her world."
"It's the center of mine! And how do you know that this isn't part of a retaliation already? The most successful Kindred move slowly. Let me send in my scouts—we'll take the Tremere with minimal force and question them. If you don't like their answers then you can stake them out for the sun for all I care."
"Some will survive either way," Qui says. "We'll still be able to question—" You round the corner into the intersection that joins three branches of the sewer system with Bouchard's lair. Several Kindred and their mortal mercenaries are gathered behind either the Sheriff or Bouchard in roughly equal numbers. Kashif stands behind Qui, a scowl creasing his face. He's traded his traditional robes for a more practical beige ensemble, a hooked sword attached to his belt next to a small leather pouch. Opposite him, Jordan stands not far behind Bouchard.
"Agad the Imperishable," Qui says. "That's good. Now we only have to wait on Lucca."
As if summoned, Lucca appears from the tunnel to your left. She's decked out in her finest dark leather, fine brown hair pulled back in a ponytail. All business, as usual.
"Finally," Bouchard grunts. "We're ready."