28 October 2006, 2:53 am, Somewhere in Manchester

The fax machine started up on the second ring and started spewing out several pages of information into the recieveing tray. Fursa wandered into the sitting room and grabbed the 4 pages just as the machine clicked off again and flopped into the big armchair opposite the small fireplace. Her eyes flicked over the pages slowly and eventually, she grabbed for the massive file folder that Catherine Von Heuser had left her. Her tattooed brow furrowed in thought.

Through the pile she leafed to determine the level of threat to the Masquerade. Though minimal evidence existed, there was still enough--and only Asgard knew what SAD might have in its posession. Grimfaced, she had to agree the danger was real, though small, and that it was time to keep an eye out. With all the childer made out of view of the Prince in the last 50 years in this Realm, it would be hard to locate this one. She started penning a note to Jason about it.

She clipped the note to the file and slid the whole mess into a big envelope. Another note was penned to Elizabeth to check among the Malkavians to see if anyone was both lucid and willing enough to talk about it. She truly doubted the Sabbat's direct involvement, as exposure at the level this case was working would be disastrous for them as well as the Camarilla. No archbishop wanted both James Whitmore and Caiaphas Smith prowling the neighborhood. She put the new note in an envelope and labelled it for delivery to the appropriate party.

Now there was Wyatt Chaser to consider. If the intrepid reported for the Granite Enquirer was being influenced by this killer, as opposed to being a simple sensationalist, it meant a certain elevation of the whole matter. Whatever the case, she certainly hoped that the combined efforts of Cassandra and Angela would produce desirable results. She was also hoping for something with finesse, but knew that was probably asking a lot of those two. The Granite Enquirer "Granite Enquirer was a supermarket tabloid and has no news value. It wasn't a paper that you real about big celebrities in, but it was a popular diversion for simple people and old ladies who had little else to do other than drink beer, knit, and shoot beer cans off the fence row. Fursa smirked a little at that point noting the last "celebrity" of any stature was a guy named "Catfish Guss" who found a gold coin worth 25K in a catfish he caught in some pond up north. In the end, it had nearly started a new Gold Rush.