<div class="floatleft">(http://i.imgur.com/uTXjCJj.jpg)</div><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 12pt;"><strong>Alice</strong></span><br/><strong>Location:</strong>Bronx, Munsee-Hudson Expediting and Storage<br/><strong>Tagging:</strong>Kifah, Tariq, Tim, Monica<br/><hr/><br/>"...and as the sun falls the moon rises, bringing with it the lovely Janice's voice.  I'm outta here, but not before I leave you with a little Nine Inch Nails."<br/><br/>The radio signal reached through the city with its long, penetrating fingers.  Little claws digging into the minds of the listeners with the pounding frequency of industrial rock.  Alice's friend was in charge of the very small radio studio and after some "persuasion" on her part had given her an infrequent job hosting her own show as dusk fell over the city.  It was only on the weekends, but it was enough to give her a decent income of cash, tapped her into the local music scenes, and afforded her some limited fame amongst the shows few late-night listeners.<br/><br/>As the last few beats drifted off into silence it was replaced by the soft, silky voice of Alice, who went by the name Janice while on the air.  "Welcome deviants and demagogues," the siren spoke and people couldn't help but listen, turning up the dial so they wouldn't miss even a single syllable of the seductive tones of the Toreador<em>Antitribu</em>, "devils and devas, dealers and denizens; the city goes dark, but you're all awake with me..."<br/><br/>Her voice paused before she made the sound of blowing a kiss into the microphone, "Got a lovely show planned for you all tonight, but first some music to get those...juices flowin'..."  Music was her passion and her muse and the job afforded her an indulgence in it that she couldn't quite get anywhere else, and of course appealed to her narcissistic sense of self-importance.  The sun was still up, but slowly dipping down over the horizon, but Alice was safely hidden away within her haven, a small building that seemed to have been renovated from an old storage warehouse or mechanic's garage.  The rusty brick color kept it from looking too distinct, and the boarded up windows kept most people from thinking anyone really lived or worked there.<br/><br/>Early to rise, Alice had plenty of time to deal with her personal obligations before slipping out into the night, it also gave her plenty of time to think about the new pack she was being pulled into.  They'd lost some members, which was hardly a surprise--Sabbat were not well known for their survival rates, given their...proclivities for danger.  She was still relatively new to the city, though she'd managed to get her claws into a few places within her short time here.  Naturally she would be picked up by the local Sabbat to join a pack to put them all to better use in pursuing the Sect's goals.<br/><br/>"Welcome back," she breathed into the microphone, "now for a little something special for a friend of mine out there...Dragula by our good pal Rob Zombie..."<br/><br/>She was looking forward to the Vinculum, it was always a pleasant experience.  There was something about the vitae of other vampires that just made it something...special.  The connection that could be created between them was surreal, like a real pack of animals.  They could speak a language that only they understood.  Perhaps it was just the vague reminder of her diablerie that teased at her, tempting her to do it once again.  For now at least it hardly bothered her.<br/><br/>The show carried on throughout the first few hours of the night without anything truly interesting happening.  After saying her farewell to her faithful audience she exited her small recording and broadcasting booth, nude save for a pair of pink panties and fish-net stockings.  Hair dyed a dark black stood in stark contrast to the pale white of her bare flesh.  Two streaks of indigo colored the black in different places, one over each ear though at different angles.  Each piece of clothing slipped away as she moved on towards her expansive, if improvised, closet.  Walking through the aisle of clothes she began hunting for the most elusive prey of all: the right outfit.<br/><br/>She exited after several long minutes of looking things over, trying things on, and eventually discarding them until she found what she was looking for.  She found a black underbust corset to wear over a small, white blouse left unbuttoned to where the corset began, revealing faint glimpses at her concealed breasts at certain angles.  Of course it called for a blue plaid skirt to go along with it along with a pair of black boots.  Stockings were out of the question tonight.  With that finished she, of course, prepared her make-up, but took special care with her dark blue lipstick.  Before leaving she made sure to grab her leather jacket--complete with concealed 9mm--as well as her helmet.<br/><br/>With a blue bandanna tied over her hair she put on the helmet, which easily concealed her face behind its tinted visor, slipped on her jacket and left her haven on her cruiser motorcycle to make her way to the meeting over in the Bronx.<br/><br/>Fashionable, but not quite late, the humming vibration of the bike announced her arrival like a loyal page as she came to a stop near Tim's Mercedes.  The bike returned to slumber with a faint harrumph as the engine stopped, expressing some dislike at being dismounted and left for the others.  She slipped of her helmet and set it down on the trunk of Tim's car before she looked over and ran a finger along the circle of the Mercedes symbol.  With her other hand she untied the bandanna from her hair, shaking her head to send the strands this way and that and away from her skull.  She bent over to slip the bandanna into her boot, left half hanging out for now.<br/><br/>Finally finished preparing herself she walked over towards the others with a casual grin before her smooth voice slid through the air and into their ears with just a simple phrase, "'sup?"