In a room with a single light burning, a man worked at a desk. The man was Vincent Guiliani's head lawer. At a sudden liquid sound he looked up.
     A vaguely glowing figure stood before him, wearing a black jacket with the Blood Board emblem painted on the back.
     "What do you want?" the seated man asked calmly.
     "We want to help," the glowing figure answered, smiling and cocky. "We've been hearing things, y'know, and we've got our own scores to settle along that line. I understand there's a certain price out?"
     "You don't honestly expect me to answer that."
     "I just wanted to let you know, it's covered. You can trust us to take care of it."
     "I wouldn't trust you yahoos to go down to the corner and buy me some Twinkies."
     The Blood Board's expression grew more threatening. "Yeah, well, that might have been before, but we're not gettin' yanked around anymore. We have our own bases of power now, we're players now."
     "Uh-huh." He didn't look impressed.
     "Just answer yes or no. Would you like her luck to run out?"
     "Everybody's luck runs out sometime. Should something... unfortunate happen, I'm sure the proper ramifications would work their way to whoever deserves them."
     "That's all I needed to know. We'll see you later."
     He glided backwards toward the door; with another liquid sound, he disappeared.
    

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