Chapter 1:

I hate rising each night.

People who use the phrase, "sleep like the dead" have no idea what it's actually like. You wake up stiff and creaky only for mobility to slowly be restored as the blood reanimates you, bit by bit. The whole process maybe lasts a couple minutes at the most but it's still a chore.

So, with said stiffness worked out of me by the blood, I rose from my bed and began my day. If not for the time it took place and for what I was putting on, it'd look like any other day. I walked into my bathroom, brushed my teeth, did my hair then got dressed. White dress shirt, pressed of course, red vest and tie with black slacks. All normal, very human. What wasn't was that my red vest was Kevlar lined, as are my pants. My leather trench coat is not only similarly lined but hides the required harnesses and pockets to not only conceal a handgun, but also a submachine gun and even a katana, yes I carry a sword around. Why do I carry all of this? Well, that answer is simple.

My name is Dustin Hastings and I'm the Sheriff of Los Angeles. Which sounds preposterous, LA has a police force, not a sheriff and deputies. But, I'm not Sheriff of the people of LA, I'm the Sheriff of its vampires, it's Kindred as we call ourselves. Yes, vampires exist, as do a bunch of other supernatural entities out there, such as werewolves and spirits. Hell, I even hear rumors of mages now and again, which aren't hard to believe, given that we Kindred have a whole clan of blood mages, known as the Tremere. I myself am of Clan Ventrue, the Clan that more often than not rules Kindred society. At least, we rule the civilized parts, we have no desire to rule the rest nor do the rest want us to rule them. It's a mutual exchange, at least as much as such things can be among Kindred.

As Sheriff, I keep the peace, prevent vampires from running amuck killing each other, and keep mortals from finding out it all, that sort of thing. I'm more or less the janitor for around 100 or so blood sucking monsters, most of whom care little for humanity. While the job sounds taxing, and it is, I LOVE it. The challenges keep me busy from what would otherwise be a very boring eternity and I wield quite a bit of informal power, as the Prince I serve generally has a hands off ruling policy. Such is the Tremere, I suppose. Always studying their magicks. Been this ways since 2004, nearly 12 years now and I wouldn't have it any other way. Well, perhaps except me as Prince but that's an old internal debate with me, not work going over

After finishing the final steps of my morning ritual, which usually involve a brief viewing of the news cycle as I checked my email, I went to leave the house to being the night's work only to discover that my keys had vanished. Now, I have few material possessions that I actually love, but my car is one of them, a holdover from my days as a Kine, I guess. It was an Aston Martin DB9, classy, luxurious and faster than almost anything on the road. So naturally, the missing keys was a pain. Sadly, there was work to be done so I added searching my apartment to my mental to do list, I left the building and got a cab, my usual back up for when my car isn't an option. It was then that I realized that my day would be ANYTHING but normal for my car wasn't driven by a cabbie but The Cabbie.

Some background is needed here. See back in 2004, during the frantic month with ended with Strauss as Prince and me as Sheriff, a Blood Hunt was called on me but Strauss's predecessor, Prince Lacroix. A Blood Hunt is when every Kindred in a city is given carte blanche to bring someone the Final Death. So after fighting through Santa Monica, killing at least 10 Kindred, I ended up in a cab, trying to decide my destiny. That cab was driven by a mysterious Kindred, the same Kindred now in the front seat of the cab I sat inside.

The cab was already in motion when I realized who he is. He looked back at me through his sunglasses and spoke. "Good Evening, young Vampire."

Naturally, I was confused at this Kindred's presence and my usual tact failed me as I asked him, "What are you doing here?"

He simply stared back through those sunglasses, "I am calling on an old debt."

"What old debt? What do I owe you?" Kindred politics is built on favors, a system known as prestation, and I kept track of what was owed to me and what I owed to others. But I had no recollection of owing the Cabbie.

"Much, young one. Much indeed. Tell me, do you know how old the Tzimisce you killed 12 years ago was?"

"No idea. Never got to ask."

"He was 476 years old when you slew him. An Elder, by both Camarilla and Sabbat standards. Do you know how old your predecessor was?"

On this, I could only guess. I knew even less about Lacroix's sheriff than I did about the Tzimisce I'd killed years ago. "Couple hundred?"

"A close guess, 183 years old when you killed him. I seem to recall you not struggling with that battle, yes?"

"Why are you asking me all of this? What's going on?"

The Cabbie looked into the review mirror, fixing me with eyes that I swear were glowing, even though his sunglasses. "You were less than a month old, a Fledgling by any standard. Your generation was not high enough to compensate for that shortcoming yet here you are, successful slayer of elders from many clans. One of two Kindred in this city to kill a werewolf in combat and a being still feared by the Kuei-jin to this very night after killing their local elder. Yet never once you considered how this was? How such a young vampire adjusted to his powers so fast?"

I felt this sense of dread come over me, the cab slowly growing darker and more compact. "What are you saying?"

"Your skills were born of your experiences but you learned them quickly, faster than any Kindred or Kine could. When your unlife began, you had no clue how to use a blade. Not a month later, you were a master. Your mind is clever, but your power was not all yours. I stepped in."

"What did you do to me?"

"I accelerated your growth rate, a simple trick really. Any high level Tremere could so a similar ability for a short time."

I shifted, wanting to so badly reach for my weapons, "Yet by saying that, you make it clear you aren't that."

"Yes, that much is true. I am not Tremere, nor am I of any modern clan." He returned his gaze to the ever darkening road, not helping my growing fear in the slightest.

"Are you Caitiff then? Clanless?"

"Nothing so basic. I am… the progenitor. The First."

If I still could pale, I would've. If he was correct… "You're Caine. The First Vampire."

He smiled a hollow smile and nodded, "Yes, I was the first of us. A foolish man who must now pay for his mistakes for the rest of time. But, that is neither here nor there. I am not the subject of this discussion. Once again, you are. I accelerated your growth to make you capable to facing the challenges posed to you. To face the machinations of Kindred and Kine alike."

"Why? Why me?"

At this, Caine paused, pondering an answer. He was quiet for some time before replying. "I wished to see if there was still hope for the Kindred. You proved to me there was. It is why I ended Gehenna before it began."

"You what? Gehenna is a myth."

"Correct, it is now a myth. But in the days of your embrace, it was fast approaching. After seeing the events in your home, I choose to prevent it. A simple task, to force my grand-childer back into Torpor."

I leaned back, still in shock at what I was hear. The cab again fell into silence before I broke it, "Why tell me this now? What's happened?"

"There is a task I need performed and you are my chosen agent. When we stop, there will be a boat and a pair of Kine. They do not know the truth of us but they will have a task for you. Bring them the girl and wipe away the debt."

"My debt? And who's the girl? What are you-"

He held up a hand, silencing me, "All will become clear in time. What is not important is where the girl is taken, but that she leaves regardless. The Kine I spoke of my have plans but you work for me. Get the girl out of harm's way. All else will become clear in time."

"Who are these mortals you're trying to subvert?"

"Kine with power that no human should have. It is too late to reseal Pandora's Box. But with luck, we may prevent its full opening."

I sighed and leaned back. "So, get the girl and keep her safe without telling these humans the plan. That about right?"

Caine nodded as the car came to a stop. "We are here." The outside had brightened, but not by much, revealing a stormy sea and a dock. At the end of the dock, tied to one of its supports sat a small rowboat. Near the rowboat were two humans, both garbed in rain coats and hats. "I take it those are the humans you spoke of?"

"Yes, they are. Play along until the time is right." The car door swung open and I moved to leave, only to be caught on the arm by Caine. "Remember, it is the blood of Caine that makes our fate, farewell Vampire." With my arm oddly tingling, I stepped out of the car. The rain was coming down in sheets and the only thing protecting my clothes was my, thankfully, water proof trench coat. I walked down the pier, pulling the coat closer around me to mimic a soaking wet, cold mortal. As I walked down the dock, the two at the end of it simply stared at me, only speaking up when I got closer to them, as if they were waiting for me.

"Hm, doesn't seem like much." Commented the woman.

"Looks can be deceiving, sister." Replied the man, picking up an old briefcase.

"Perhaps. The other choices looked more up to the job."

"We picked him for a reason."

"He was on the list, Brother. We didn't pick him."

At this, I cleared my throat. "Excuse me, are you two the one with the job for me?"

The man merely nodded at me then began to climb into the boat, still bickering with his sister. "At least he's polite."

"Politeness isn't a useful combat trait."

"He has other skills."

The woman shrugged as we all settled onto the rowboat. The man started rowing as the woman passed me the briefcase. Inside it were two sheets of paper, one with a picture of a key, a scroll and a sword on it. The scroll was labeled "x1" while the key and sword were labeled "x2". The other was a note, simply saying, "Bring us the girl and wipe away the debt." A phrase that eerily mirrored one spoke by the Cab-Caine earlier. Next to the papers was a picture labeled Elizabeth, presumably the girl I needed to find. And next to that was an ornate key, which I quickly pocketed, and one of the oddest things in the briefcase, a Mauser C96 pistol, complete with a couple stripper clips. I slid the pistol into a coat pocket with the clips and looked up at the two kine. "I take it I'm looking for the girl in the picture?"

They ignored me however as they resumed their bickering. "Are you going to just sit there?" the man asked.

"As compared to what? Standing?" She replied.

"Not standing, rowing." Over the top of the two siblings, I could see the light of a lighthouse rotating. I figured it was our destination, though why I'm going to a lighthouse in the middle of a storm is beyond me.

"Rowing? I hadn't planned on it."

"So you expect me to shoulder the burden?" The man asked as I handed the woman back the briefcase.

"No, but I do expect you to do all the rowing."

"And why is that?"

"Coming here was your idea."

"My idea?"

"I've made it very clear that I don't believe in the exercise."

"The rowing?"

"No. I imagine that's wonderful exercise." The woman replied. I suspected that she had actually been referring to having me do this job. After all, I wasn't at the top of the list. Probably wanted to scrap the whole thing and have someone else do the job. Hell, they may be choosing me due to Caine's influence. If he can keep Antediluvians in torpor, making a couple kine choose differently would be easy. Hell, I could do that if I needed to! Caine could do it from across the globe more than likely.

"Then what?" The man replied.

"The entire thought experiment." And confirmed. Maybe, not sure yet.

Regardless, I decided to speak up. "Excuse me, how much longer will we be out in this weather?"

Again ignoring me, the man replied to his sister. "One goes into an experiment knowing one could fail."

"But one does not undertake an experiment knowing one has failed." The woman replied.

"Can we get back to the rowing?"

"I suggest you do or we're never going to get there."

"No, I mean I'd greatly appreciate it if you would assist."

"Perhaps you should ask him." The woman said, perhaps acknowledging my existence for the first time this whole ride, going on to say, "I imagine he has a greater interest in getting there than I do."

"I suppose he does. But there's no point in asking." The man conceded.

"Why not?"

"Because he doesn't row."

"He doesn't row?"

"No, he doesn't row."

"Ah. I see what you mean."

And with that confusing ending, the banter again ceased. By now we were just coming up the island, a rock jutting out of the sea with a lighthouse perched atop it. Buy light house standards it was short, wider than most you see in pictures. Probably meant to take the ocean waves better or something. We came up along a dock coming off the rock, with the woman marking our arrival with a brief, "We've arrived." And for once, no response was forth coming.

We came to a stop and I climbed up the conveniently placed ladder onto the dock. As I left the rowboat, the two began to head off, discussing whether or not they should tell me when they'd be returning. I ignored the banter and yelled out to them. "Will the keeper be meeting me here then?"

"I'd certainly hope so." The man replied, speaking to me directly for the first time.

"It does seem like a dreadful place to be stranded." The woman commented as the rowboat headed off. Deciding that the Kine weren't worth the effort anymore. I started up towards the lighthouse. The way up to the front door was well maintained, indicating that the keeper came here regularly. IF I was just left out here to die, I could just sink into Torpor until the keeper showed up. Simple. On the door there was a note reading, "Hastings- Bring us the girl and wipe away the debt. This is your last chance!" Yet another repetition of that phrase. Something is up and I don't like it. Not one bit.

After knocking on the door and announcing myself, I stepped inside the lighthouse and out of the rain, which was beginning to annoy me. The first thing I saw was a large poster with the words "Of thy sins, Shall I wash thee" emblazoned boldly in the font I've only seen in knitting patterns or images meant to look like knitting patterns. The poster hung above and old school wash basin. But what struck me first was the smell. I smelled blood. Split blood, old and dried up. Kindred have better senses than humans and blood is usually our priority. I'd know the smell anywhere. Above me, I heard a radio blaring a song about "Old Time Religion" or something. Fitting, given the poster. Next to the steps leading to the next level was another poster with the same font, which read; "From Sodom, Shall I lead thee". I'm starting to think that these posters are part of a larger bit of poetry, probably something scriptural, like a lesser writers attempt at the Divine Comedy.

Upstairs was, I assume, the living quarters of the keeper. Given the fact that I had yet to hear or see him, chances are the blood I smelled was in fact his. The odd piece though was a map on the wall, with a pattern spelled out with pins and yarn, like those conspiracy boards you see in movies. Next to it was a roster or schedule, didn't get a good look really, labeled Colombia. No idea what it meant but one thing was jumping out at me. Everything here was old. All the furniture here was old fashioned. It looked new, but all of it was in designs from the early 20th century, the sort of things you see in antique stores. Including, beneath the map, an old telephone. I picked it up, half joking really, only to hear a faint buzzing from the speaker. Not a dial tone, like a modern phone, but just a buzz you get from older sound systems. That was even weirder. This whole thing was starting to remind me of the Ocean House. Not a good thing, being reminded of a haunted hotel.

At the foot of the next staircase was yet more evidence of a dead keeper, spilled food. Fruits mostly, looking to have been knocked over during a fight. And, again, next to the stairs was another poster showing the next line of the poem, "To thine own land, Shall I take thee". More weirdness. As I walked up the steps, I began to see blood spatters and, sure enough, on the next floor I saw more signs of fighting and a corpse tied to a chair. There were knives around it on various tables and the man had a bag over his head, with a hole in the front from where he was presumably shot. On his lap, leaning against his body was a sign saying "Don't disappoint us." I still heard nothing else and, confident in my Fortitude to help survive an ambush, I walked to the next stairway. There again, another poster. This one reading; "In new Eden Soil, Shall I plant thee?" I took the steps up, eventually being deposited up on the roof in the rain. Yet, the light was off and no one was here waiting to kill me. Yet more mysteries.

A door lead into the light room. On it were 3 bells, one labeled with an image of a key, one label with an image of a scroll and one labeled with an image of a sword. Two and two makes for, so I pulled out that piece of paper with the same images and followed the instructions, ringing the key bell once, then the scroll bell twice followed by ringing the sword bell twice.

Then, a rumble, like a steam horn from a ship larger than any other came from the sky, accompanied by a red light through the cloud cover. Something was up there. The sky horn kept blew four more times, each time accompanied by another red light. The lighthouse light sort of beeped five times, a deep low sound also followed by a dark red light. Then the sky horn responded once as normal, then twice more with the same light but a deeper pitch. It was a communications method. Perhaps Morse Code? The sky horn/light blew twice more before the bells began to ring as they slid down the door, opening as the light turned then slip up into the lighthouse. The floor below the light turned revealing a plush red chair. After noting the metal restraints, which I could probably snap if need be thanks to my superior strength, I sat down in the chair. I may not have Potence like the Brujah, but I wasn't a physical slouch like most Ventrue. Sure enough, the bindings went on. What was more surprising was the panels which started to slide up from below me along with a voice, probably from a speaker system.

"Make yourself ready, pilgrim. The bindings are there as a safeguard." So either this was going to end with me alive, or I was a pilgrim on my way to Heaven. I hoped for the former and, failing that, that the execution method wouldn't kill me. The pod sealed closed with a pressurized hiss and the chair moved, pointing me down towards the rest of the lighthouse. I saw gears turning me only to be shocked as below me, what were unmistakable rocket engines flared to life. I was in a rocket, shit. The voice spoke again as my seat rotated back to a normal position while I braced for lift off. "Ascension. Ascension in the count of Five. Count of Four. Three. Two. One." And as the voice against said "Ascension." We lifted off, moving fast. Far faster than any NASA launched I'd seen. The damn voice said ascension once more before it listed off the altitude, starting with 5000 feet, then in less than a second 10000 feet and lastly 15000 feet.

Then the clouds parted with a bright flash of light, revealing a city in the clouds illuminated by sunlight. Wait, sunlight?! I threw up my hands instinctively, hoping to be spared. But I felt nothing, no pain, no burning. Just the warm of a star I had no felt in over a decade. I lowered my arms and took in the view. The voice had said something but I'd not been paying attention. I soaked it all in, the view of the city before me. The view was dominated by a massive angel statue looming over the city. But what struck me above all else was the warmth. There really was nothing quite like sunlight. Kine take it for granted. And somehow I was, wait… that tingling when Caine grabbed me… did he…I sighed and tabled those thoughts. I could ask him when this was all done. What mattered was that, somehow, this part of the curse was lifted. I could walk in the sunlight again. Music came on over the speaker, old time piano music, as the rocket reached the top of its trajectory. Just as we began to drop again, I heard a noise like cloth billowing in the wind and felt the catch of the parachute stopping the freefall before it began. The pod creaked and swayed as I stared out at that statue and the sun above it. It was one of the most beautiful things I'd ever seen in my entire life, more beautiful than any sunrise or sunset I'd seen as a Kine. It was... glorious… If I could, I think I would've cried looking up at that view through the porthole.

Then, we landed on with a loud crash. The pod then began to descend into a building. It went dark as the sunlight vanished, leaving the pod lightless. Even my superior vampiric senses couldn't see through it, not that my senses were anything compared to any Kindred with Auspex of course. The next light I saw was sunlight coming through a window, illumination a stenciled out pair of lines, placed no doubt for newcomers to read. "Why would he send his savior unto us." As the pod continued its descent, I started to hear singing, most likely a hymn I think. It had the right tone, reminiscent of Amazing Grace in the general feel of the song. Another line came passing by; "If we will not lift a finger for our own salvation." Then came another line; "And though we deserve not his mercy." And another, one right after another. "He has lead us to this new Eden." That didn't bode well. When that sort of talk is being thrown around, typically one is dealing with a cult of some form. There have been a few cases of cults believing their leader was either God or Christ reborn, Heaven's Gate for example. Not the best sign for what I was going into. The next line didn't help with that; "A Last Chance for Redemption."

The stenciled in lines stopped after that and the pod was plunged back into darkness only for that darkness to be again pierced, this time by an immense stained glass window. The pattern showed a figure, this cult's leader if I had to guess, pointing towards a city in the sky with others watching him. Carved above him were the lines; "And the prophet shall lead the people to the New Eden." Shit, I was right. This place is a cult enclave. In the sky, somehow. Beneath the window, I saw the floor of the building at long last. And sure enough, the pod finally came to a complete stop, the panel in front of me retracting as the bindings came off. I stepped out of the pod, stepping into the water than covered the floor of this place. Thank god my shoes were waterproof. I looked up at the window. The prophet, I assume, was an older man with a long white beard, posed in a typical religious figure pose, one hand pointed towards the goal and the other outstretched as if to say, "Come with me, I will show you the way." Yeah, the way to abuse and/or suicide, depending on who this nutjob wanted to emulate.

I turned to my right to move on, only to see another carving, this one saying that "The seed of the Prophet shall sit the throne and drown in flame the mountains of man." For all their flaws, these cultists are ever so helpful at determining the end goals of their little group. These lunatics wanted to destroy the world, figures. I'd seen this before among humans, in the form of Aum Shinrikyo, and among Kindred, in the form of a Gehenna cult I… broke up let's say, back in 2004. Anyway, in the next room was a large statue of the same figure from the window, this mysterious prophet. In this one, his long white beard was carved to look like it was blowing in the wind and that it was a beard of fire. Probably meant to show the Holy Spirit flowing from him. Not a bad motif for a cult leader. There were candles everywhere, also probably meant to evoke the same ideas. Not bad at all, really, very clever. And judging by the water on the floor… this was a baptismal place. Where newcomers are inducted into the faith before becoming part of city life. Perfect, I can make an identity as I go and work my way towards the girl, where ever she is. After all, I can pose as human in LA, fooling these morons should be a breeze.

The statue room had two side rooms, one had a trail of rose petals floating in the water but I choose to examine the other room first. If the cult was going to tell everyone its ideas, I was going to listen. No reason not to. Another stained glass window shed light into the room, with the same prophet holding an infant with a woman behind him, both looking down at the baby. Probably their child. The line beneath it confirmed it; "The Lamb, the Future of our city." I turned and left the room, heading towards the room with the rose petals floating in it, only to be caught off guard at a white robed figure standing next to the doorway leading further inside. I stepped up to the man, "Excuse me, what is this place?"

The man, perhaps an acolyte or something, replied, "Heaven, friend. Or as close as we'll see until Judgement Day." He didn't seem too shocked at the question, guess he was used to such queries. Behind the man was a long stairway, with water streaming down it in countless little waterfalls. It was a lawsuit waiting to happen but I went down the steps anyway. More stained glass illuminated the stair way, smaller windows this time. The first window had a sword, the second a key, and the third a scroll. Then, I saw what I think is the main chamber. It was use, easily the size of any cathedral I've seen. Water again covered the floor, this time up to my knees. A preacher was preaching down near the other end of the room but his voice carried, saying "And every year on this day of days, we recommit ourselves to our city, and to our prophet, Father Comstock. We recommit through sacrifice, and the giving of thanks, and by submerging ourselves in the sweet waters of baptism." The room was laid out in multiple lanes, each filled with water and separated by smaller lanes filled with floating candles. The preacher kept going, "And lo, if the prophet had struck down our enemies at Wounded Knee, and not railed against the Sodom beneath us, it would have been enough." Wait, Wounded Knee? That was in the 1890's what the hell does it have to do with today? Did this nutjob claim to be immortal too? Hm… he might even be Kindred, maybe a methuselah or, God help me, an awakened Antediluvian.

"If the Prophet had just railed against the Sodom beneath us, but not accepted the golden gifts of the Founders, it would have been enough." The preacher went on. A circle or listens gather around the recess where the preacher spoke. Unlike everyone else, the preacher was dressed in a black robe. Typical uniforms of a church, acolytes in white, preachers in black. I sighed, it was time to step forward. I did so and the preacher noticed me instantly, saying, "Is it someone new? Someone from the Sodom below? Newly come to Columbia to be washed clean, before our Prophet, our Founders and our Lord?"

Fucking humans, I swear. My sins won't be washed away with one baptism and neither will the sins of anyone, Kindred or Kine. But I of course didn't voice those thoughts, instead saying, "Yes, I've come to be cleansed, to join the chosen people in this New Eden."

The Preacher smiled wide and beckoned me closer. "Come then Child, come and be reborn in the sweet waters of baptism." I affected a wide, somewhat sappy smile of a man come to his rightful place and took his outstretched hand.

He pulled me close and began to speak, "I baptize you, in the name of our prophet, in the name of our Founders, in the name of our Lord." And down I went as the preacher put his hand on my forehead and shoved me underwater. It took me a moment to remember to struggle. Kindred don't need to breath. The only reason we suck in air was to speak, otherwise some elders don't bother. But, I had a Masquerade to uphold here so I faked a man who needed air. I didn't hear his next words through the water, only hearing him say. "And make him born again, in the bosom of Columbia."

I grinned back, as if I had in fact been wiped clean of my sins. "Thank you Sir, thank you."

The preacher grinned back at me and released me, "Go then, Brother. Go and bask in this new Eden." He outstretched his hand towards the tunnel behind him, through which I could see sunlight and trees. I bowed once then started walking towards the light. As I walked away, I let a predatory smile grace my features while no one could see it.

Fucking humans.


Stepping out into the sunlight was like nothing I'd felt before. It was so warm, warmth I hadn't felt in over a decade. In front of me were three statues, one of Benjamin Franklin holding a key out towards, well us I suppose is the intent but it was more like towards something beneath him, like a God offering mankind something. In the same pose in front of me was George Washington, offering us a sword handle first. And to the right of me was Thomas Jefferson, offering a scroll in the same pose. All three statues had their subjects garbed in roman togas. Again, clever imagery but not why I'm here. I knew what I needed to know. Lord made the Founders, Founders gave knowledge to Comstock, Comstock makes sky cult. The end. I walked past the worshippers at the base of the Washington statues and left the water, climbing up a stairway to a garden. At the top of the steps was a man who spoke to me, saying, "Our Prophet fills our lungs with water, so they may better love the air." Yes, yes, our Prophet gives us everything, praise be to him for all our gifts.

Fucking humans, I swear.

Anyway, after smiling and nodding at the idiot, I walked into the garden proper. To be honest, I wasn't much paying attention to what was around me. I was too busy admiring the garden in the sunlight and, more important, soaking up the sun's rays. I was channeling my inner Toreador I guess, drinking deep of the art around me. In all honesty, whatever they paid the architect of this place, it wasn't enough. It was dripping in religious symbolism, become baptized in the fire and water of the Holy Spirit then emerge into a beautiful garden? A New Eden indeed, I'm impressed. Not buying it, but impressed.

I strode through the garden, tuning out the prayers of the locals as I made for the exit. I had a job to do after all, enough sightseeing. Above the exit was, again, carved the lines; "The Seed of the Prophet shall sit the Throne and drown in Flame the Mountains of Man." Big on that end of the world stuff, this Columbia. I opened the door to the city beyond. It was like the nineteen teens had made sweet love to the Jetsons and I was walking in their love child. The city was floating, but the architecture was pure turn of the century America. Each building floated on its own little island and it became clear that these buildings moved, interlocking with each other to allow people to pass. This was made clear by another sky island floating up to meet us, leading to yet another statue of Mr. Comstock.

Around me, buildings shifted and moved, interlocking with each other then disconnecting and floating off to parts unknown. Walking down the street past the statue was like being sent to a touristless Main Street USA from Disney World. The people all dress in turn of the century garb. Then, I heard something else from the old days, a newspaper boy, yelling out about a transcript of the newest speech from Comstock to his flock, or something like that. I decided that more information would be useful and approached the paper boy. He looked at me from his box and held out a paper with a smile. "Here, Sir. A free copy of the Columbia Gazette. Free for all Pilgrims."

I gave another false smile and took the paper. "Thank you, my good man." With that, I walked off, looking over the paper. The headline read "Secession Day Celebration. Fink promises special surprise for raffle winner!" But what got my attention was the date. July 6th, 1912. I stopped in my tracks when my eyes went over that line as I kept rereading it again and again. July 6th, 1912. Two possibilities there. One was that this was a massive hoax and the other was that I'd gone back in time over a hundred years. I lowered the paper and looked around, thinking. The architecture and clothing matched, each shop having leapt out of a turn of the century photo. But it was the signs in the window that would show me the way. Many of the shops had the sign "Pilgrims welcome" in their windows. So, I find a pilgrim, get him alone, and use Dominate to get answers. Simple. With this plan in mind, I entered the nearest shop I could find, a butcher shop.

As I opened the door, I heard a bell ring as a large man in an apron stepped up to me. Here again, all like a stereotypical turn of the century butcher shop. The butcher smiled wide and waved me in. "Welcome, welcome! You must be a pilgrim yes? How are you enjoying this fair city?"

I affected my usual false smile and replied. "It's a marvelous place, Mr…"

"Ah, none of that formality stuff in my shop! Call me George!" He was a boisterous man, loud and friendly. Despite my usual paranoia, I had a good first impression so far.

"Of course, George. How long have you been in this fair city?"

"Couple 'a years now. I was a Pilgrim, just like you!"

Jackpot. Just what I needed. Perhaps God hasn't forsaken me yet. "Really? What made you come up here?"

He sighed wistfully. "I'd grown up hearing the stories about the Eden in the sky. After my first shop down in Chicago fell apart, I came up here to start anew. Been here ever since, thank the Prophet!"

I nodded and readied myself. "I see. So…" The blood raced through me as I activated Dominate, looking him straight in the eye. "What is the actual date?"

His eyes glazed over as Dominate took over. "The date is July 6th, 1912."

"And the date on the ground below us?"

"July 6th, 1912."

Shit, so somehow Caine had tossed me back in time. Which was a problem, but not a huge one. Getting back 2016 would be a simple matter of waiting out the time. The benefits of eternal life. I looked back at the man, again using Dominate. "You will forget my questions as to the day and return to normal in 5 seconds." At that, I quickly reassumed the façade of young idealistic idiot, happy smile and all, just in time for his eyes to light up again.

"So, what brought you here, young man?" The butcher asked.

"I've come to seek my fortune with God's people."

He nodded. "Well, Good luck then. Oh! Hold on!" He opened the register and pulled out a small bag of coins. "Here, these are Silver Eagles. Different currency up here. Figured you'd have nothing."

I smiled back, a more genuine smile now. He'd earned that much. "Thank you, kind sir. I shall not forget this. Good day." With that I began to leave.

"Good bye! And Happy Secession Day!" He yelled, waving as I left the shop.

So, recap. I was no in July 1912 in a floating city searching for a girl for a pair of Kine and the Caine of the Old Testament. When the hell did everything get so goddamn weird? I started to walk down the street, hands in my coat pockets as I pondered my new situation. Priority 1: Find Elizabeth. Priority 2: Get her out of Columbia. Priority 3: Wait out the next hundred years of chaos until civilization is restored. Right, simple enough. As I walked, I overheard a couple discussing a 'Vox Populi', with one of the two dismissing Latin as a language. While the scholar in me was horrified at the idea of dismissing Latin, what was more relevant was that phrase, 'Vox Populi'. 'Voice of the people' if my memory served. Most likely some kind of progressive or populist movement. Or perhaps even a communist group. Such things were all the rage in the days before the Great War. Either way, not an issue right now. What did catch and hold my attention was the horse and carriage ahead of me. More accurately, what held my attention was the horse. It was a robot. They had built a robot in the days before the fucking Vacuum Tube. In 2016 the idea of a robot horse was insane but 1912?! Most ships were still steam! The age of radio was still a decade away, what the hell was going on?

I kept walking, trying to process everything. Ahead of me was a sky lane (for lack of a better term). Through it, a parade floated by on what looked like parade floats perched atop blimps floating by, each one showing a part of the origin story of this place, the same story I'd seen hints of in the baptism chamber. The first had Comstock, I assume, being shown a vision of the city by an angel. According to the announcer, he had seen this vision after the 'victory' of Wounded Knee and the angel was called Columbia. First off, Wounded Knee was a massacre and secondly, there was no angel named Columbia last I checked. The next float was more familiar, the image of the Prophet leading his people to the floating city, with the announcer describing Columbia (the city not the angel) as "a more perfect union" and the world beneath as "the Sodom below". Typical cult ideas, isolation and making the cult followers feel superior in their holiness. Then, came the last float, again showing the Prophet and, I assume his wife, holding a child, which the announcer called "the miracle child, the lamb that is the future of our city. For the Prophet has said that she in the tower will lead the Sodom below into righteousness." As a lowered bridge came up to let us pass, I pondered what I'd heard. I'd bet my unlife that the girl in the tower, this lamb, was Elizabeth. I was gonna end up stealing this cult's holy heir. Shit.

Across the bridge, a sign announced the Columbia Raffle and Fair. Most likely the same raffle that the newspaper mentioned. I walked up the steps to the next level and was about to cross the bridge when I noticed a large poster on the side of a building. In it a figure in a black robe held a fainting woman in one arm and in the other was coaxing a lamb along. Even without the poster telling me that "The False Shephard only seeks to lead our Lamb astray." The meaning was obvious. What caught my attention was the woman however. She was the stereotypical woman you'd see in posters of this period, blond and beautiful, but her neck had two red dots in it, right over the jugular. Wounds I was intimately familiar with, as I'd caused them on many a kine. A vampire bite. So, they thought their anti-Christ would suck the blood of the womenfolk. They probably did it to make this figure more monstrous or something. But if this lamb was indeed Elizabeth, then I was the False Shephard and the blood drinking was literal.

Poor fools. They have no idea what has come to town.


As I walked past the poster, another gondola/blimp thing came up beside me with a barbershop quartet singing on it. Apparently, they were sponsored by an Albert Fin and the song was called "God Only Knows." They were talented, but something about how they sang told me that the song was meant to be performed differently. Oh well, not an issue here so I kept moving. After a brief walk under a couple arches, there it was. The angel statue I'd seen on arrival, apparently the home of Elizabeth, the lamb of Columbia. And my objective. As I stepped forward, I was interrupted by a voice saying "Telegram, Mr. Hastings!"

I stopped in my tracks to look down at a young boy holding up a slip of paper for me. As I took it, he saluted me and ran off. The note read; '"Hastings STOP Do not alert Comstock to your presence STOP Whatever you do, do not pick #77 STOP Lutece." I had no idea who this Lutece was but the rest was sound advice. Not that I knew what the hell they meant by number 77 but I slid the note in my pocket and got moving again. To the right of the statue, by my perspective anyway, was a poster confirming my concerns. Apparently, the statue protected the lamb from this False Shephard. We shall see about that. I kept moving, entering the fair proper. The first thing I saw was some kind of stage announcing Vigors. These Vigors apparently gave humans all sorts of powers, with an image shown of a man lighting a lightbulb with a bolt from his fingers. These claims would be easy to ignore if not for the fact that two people were demonstrating these powers before my eyes! They could make men float, shoot lightning from their fingertips and, worst of all, one could even make fireballs! Floating would be annoying, lighting hurts like a bitch and fire?! Fire is fucking lethal to Kindred, really lethal. Despite popular understanding, humans aren't all that flammable, a side effect of being mostly made of water. Kindred are. Kindred are in fact extremely flammable. Even with my Fortitude, I had no desire to be set on fire. It does a ton of damage and takes forever to heal.

What had I learned then? Columbia was far, FAR more dangerous than I thought. The Kine here could all possibly have powers that'd make a Tremere green with envy, this is not good! I hide my mounting fear and walked on, perhaps a bit jitterier than before. I ignored most of the fair attractions. After the spectacle I'd just witnessed, I had no desire to make myself visible to the public. Best I just faded into the background. My attempt to simply be part of the crowd was disrupted by another attraction. Where the vigor demonstration had scared the shit out of me, this one was just horrifying. Up on stage was this… thing. A melding of machine and man, nearly 9 feet tall with hands as big as a man's torso. The entire thing was cybernetic except for the head, which looked like a normal human head. It could've been a suit if not for how the thing was acting. It wasn't showing itself off, like a man in a suit would. No, this thing was hiding its face and cowering before the crowd. It was afraid, perhaps ashamed of what it was? It didn't matter really. What mattered is that these people, this cult had done something that might even make Strauss's stone heart quiver in rage. I swore then that after Elizabeth was free, I would return here and lay waste to this place so that this would never happen again. With this new purpose in my heart, I walked on.

At the end of this street was a blocked gate guarded by some kind of vending machine/android hybrid. The damn thing wouldn't let me pass, apparently I wasn't important enough. To the right of me was a free sample stall for a Vigor run by a rather pretty girl. She quickly noticed my presence and walked over. "Machine giving you trouble, Mister?"

I sighed and looked at her. "Yeah, kinda wanna see the rest of the fair."

She smiled and oddly sultry smile for a place this religious. "Well, I have something that may help you." She pulled out one of the bottle in the basket hanging at her waist. "With Possession, you can take back control from the men of metal. Here, it's a free sample."

Shit, this was a problem. See, these Vigors were probably meant to be consumed by living humans. Which I was no longer. Chances are, I could just down the damn thing and have nothing happen except a visit to the bathroom to vomit it out later. Which would… hold on... Taking care to not smirk, I instead gave her my charming smile and took the bottle, downing it quickly. She smiled at my 'enthusiasm', saying in a low voice "With just a whisper, they're all ears." She then drew a large heart with her fingers, something which would've had more of an effect, I think, had the Vigor worked. Which, surprise, it had not. She then blew me a kiss and giggled. I smiled back then began to mime retching. Her demeanor went from sultry to concerned in a heartbeat. "Hey, you ok Mister?" She rested a hand on my heaving shoulder.

"Bathroom…" I croaked out. She nodded and walked to the machine, inserting some kind of card which opened the gate. While I kept up the 'about to vomit' act, she led me past a man and woman just past the gate and into a nearby washroom. She helped me open the stall while I proceeded to puke. Just as planned.

I'd figured that there was a bathroom just beyond the gate and that the girl would have access through said gate. One fake illness later and I was through the gate. Best of all, no need to worry about not vomiting. I'd have to puke up the damn vigor anyway, no need to wait. I emerged from the stall, wiping my mouth and panting. She walked over and rested a hand on my arm. "Are you ok, Sir?"

I gave her a 'grateful' smile, "Yes, of course. Thank you, my dear. It's a pleasure to see such a beautiful girl with such a kind heart."

She blushed wildly, "Why Sir, I'm just a humble fair worker. I'm not worthy of such praise."

I lightly tipped up her chin with the tip of my index finger. "I wholeheartedly disagree, my dear. Thank you again." She nodded, frozen in place as I released her chin and walked to the sink. One quick drink from it and I was out the door before she could react, gargling and spitting the water into a nearby bush as I went. As I walked past the entrance, a man and woman stepped in front of me. The woman had a plate held a platter with a coin on it, while the man wore a blackboard over his chest. Said blackboard was labeled with heads and tails with, so far, all the flips having landed on heads.

"Heads…" said the man.

"Or tails?" Said the woman. Both were dressed in matching period outfits. Perhaps some sort of survey. Weird but whatever.

"Err… tails I suppose."

The woman extended the platter as the man again said, "Heads…"

"Or tails?" finished the woman. I shrugged then took the coin from the platter, flipping it back onto the platter. It, oddly enough, landed on heads yet again.

The man simply looked at the woman and said "Told you."

"Hm." The woman replied before reaching over and leaving another tally mark on the board.

The man went on, saying, "I never find it as satisfying as I'd imagined."

The woman pushed his chin up lightly, replying with, "Chin up, There's always next time"

"I suppose there is." With that, the two stepped aside and I was able to move on.

As I walked further along, I left the streets and again got a view of open sky. Across another skylane, I saw a massive balloon of Franklin holding a key tied to the same building as another large balloon figure of Washington, this one holding a sword. Down the way, I saw a large sign over an arch. The arch had a large wooden sign with the words "Columbia Raffle and Fair" painted on it. Before I could walk through the arch, there was another poster on a stand in the middle of it, this one again warning people of the False Shephard, saying that he would be known through his maw. Wait…

The poster was a massive open mouth with the teeth illuminated in bright white against the darkness of the mouth interior. What struck me were the canines, the fangs. For they could be nothing else, they were long and pointed, like my own, like those of any Kindred. Many fictional vampires have the ability to retract and extend their fangs. Actual Kindred, however, cannot. It's the easiest way to identify us, only reason it doesn't work is that staring at the mouth and teeth is weird, a social norm I suspect was in fact put in place by Kindred elders.

Regardless, this was concerning as I walked through the arch. Further along, I could hear a crowd singing a song together, the main words that I caught were various repetitions and alterations of "Goodnight Irene." With one path blocked by police, I decided that making them move would be a waste of blood and risky, especially if they in fact knew how to handle Kindred, so I instead turned towards the singing and went up a stairway. At the top was a large stage with a signing crowd around it. On the stage was a man with a top hat in a nice suit conducting the group. As I stepped down onto the main area, the singing ceased and the man held out his hands, yelling, "And now, the 1912 raffle has officially begun!" There was a gap in the crowd that would let me get up close. At the end of the gap was a girl who called to me with a "Hey, Mister!" and waved me over.

I stepped up, smiling again. "Thank you Miss, but I'm not interested in buying a ticket."

She giggled and replied, "Silly. There's never a charge for the raffle. You been sleeping under a rock?"

"Something like that," I replied as I picked up a baseball from the basket at her waist. Upon turning it over, I noticed that it was labeled 77. Shit, is this what the telegram meant? Also, how did the telegram know about this?!

I turned the ball towards her and she said, "77? That's a lucky number. I'll be rooting for you." She winked and walked off as the Master of Ceremonies spoke up.

"Bring me the bowl!" He cried as a girl started walking across the stage, a bowl in her hands, "Is that not the prettiest young white girl in all of Columbia?"

Ah… that's right. I forgot about the racism in this era. Not questioned and omnipresent. Better get used to it then…

The MC reached into the bowl, still yelling. "All right then… the winner is…" He drew out the pause as he removed a piece of paper and read it, "Number 77!"

Great… wonder what I won. Hope it's not a vigor or something. Next to me a woman pointed at me, yelling out, "Over here! Over here! He's the winner!"

The MC looked directly at me and said, "Number 77 come here and claim your prize!" Music had begun to play as the curtains were drawn back.

"First throw!" He cried as the curtains revealed a man and woman, each tied to a post. A white man and black woman. Oh God… this was a stoning. They were going to stone these two for being together. At that point, I recognized the music being played as a parody of wedding music. The two were begging to be spared, the man asking the crowd to take him instead. I watched in horror as wooden racial caricatures sprung up around them, monkeys with this blackface look you only see in old pictures, like the horrid past of the US come to life before my very eyes.

The MC turned towards me and spoke again, "Come on, are you going to throw it? Or are you taking your coffee black these days?" He laughed as if he'd made some kind of funny joke. I thought it was sick and it was the last straw. This place was fucked up beyond all reason. And I was going to see it burn. I never understood how the Brujah saw the world, all fire and rage. But now I got it. Hell, I felt it. This was the last straw, I'd had enough. It was time to rage.

"I've got something for you, you son of a bitch." I raised my hand to throw only for a policeman to catch my arm.

Another quickly took my other arm as the MC crouched in front of me. "Now, where did those teeth come from, boy? Don't you know chompers like those make you that back-stabbin' snake-in-the-grass False Shephard?" He got to his feet, speaking to the crowd. "And we ain't letting no False Shephard into our flock!" Around me the crowd cheered, already promised bloodlust, now they were ready to lynch their anti-Christ. "Show him what we got planned boys!"

With that, the cop holding my left arm raised a strange device, with 3 hooks built into it, spinning it up. No doubt he planned to bash my head in, I had other plans. I looked the other cop straight in the eyes and said one word, "Release." Dominate did the rest, his hands opened. It was a brief opening, but enough. Quick as a viper, my hand was at the back of his head which I slammed right into the hook machine. The machine dug into his head, caving in the skull in a splatter of blood. But I was already shifting my focus to the cop holding the device. These yokels believe in the False Shephard. Time to show what that means. I pulled the dead man away, the hook staying imbedded in his head as I grabbed the other cop and pulled him close, sinking my teeth into his neck with practiced ease.

It was as great as it always was, tasting blood. I drank and drank and drank until there I was sucking at a shriveled husk of a vein. Around me, I could hear the crowd dispersing with shocks of fear and horror at my actions. Good, let them be afraid of me. Might make them hesitate. I dropped the dead man only for 2 more cops to come running, one with a bat in hand. I could've killed him with melee, but I have guns. One hand slid into my coat as I removed my handgun of choice, the IMI Desert Eagle. Cliché, but the stopping power is second to none and handling the recoil a breeze with my superior strength. The gun barked twice and the two men dropped like puppets with cut strings. I only hit one in the head, the other went down clutching a bleeding shoulder wound but it didn't matter. He was down and out, nuff said. I stepped over the 4 bodies in my wake and went up the steps beyond.

I almost pitied the poor guards ahead of me. Their anti-Christ had come and was as scary as their stories said he was. But then I remembered what they were guarding, a fucked up city ran by a delusional cult leader. Then the pity faded. Stealth had failed, now my only way forward would be at the point of the sword, at the barrel of the gun.

I smiled a dry, pitiless smile. It was time to get work.

AN: Yes, I am starting another story. I blame my muse, it changes interests often. Gonna try something new this time though. Gonna more or less put my nose to the bleeding grindstone and try to crank out the story as fast as possible. Basically get as much done as I can before the muse shifts, I guess. Dunno how it'll go but we'll see. Outer Heaven on the Narrow Sea isn't dead yet. I'll probably get back into it if I get back into MGS and/or Game of Thrones. We'll see.

Ok, so to those who are Vampire: the Masquerade fans, yes I gave Dustin the power to withstand sunlight. In my defense, I'd be hard to have him go through all of Bioshock Infinite without once being in the sunlight. So, I used my author powers, via Caine who also has such powers, to let him be a Daywalker. Hope my heresy ain't too bad.

To those who have no idea what all the Vampire stuff is about, patience. There is plenty of down time for Elizabeth and Dustin to discuss such things. All will be clear in time.

That's about it for this one. Should have the next chapter up in a few days, provided the muse holds up. Which is the whole point of the new method. But, I have high hopes for this one! See ya later! If there are enough reviews in by the next chapter, I'll post some replies. If not, I'll wait on review responses. Not on new chapters though, I'm not gonna hold ya hostage, (thought reviews do tend to give me impetus to write more, make of that what you will). Next chapter should be fairly soon though, next couple days. See ya!