Greetings to thee o brave reader who dare so faceth this tale of tribulations through time. I would first off like to offer a couple bits of thanks to my inspirations. First to Greyflank and his Claude in Nice stories. They really helped me develop a few ideas for properly developing Donovan into a Malkavian. I would also like to thank Linda for the many hours spent being the beta reader in order to make sure someone could actually follow the story. Lastly I'd like to thank Marv, who's mental incapacities lead to the original idea for the story. Now, tread carefully as you actually step into the mind of a Malkavian and see that it's nothing but...

Fragments: A Tale of Detroit

Epilogue: The Future Remembered

My claws sink deep into his throat. He gasps and looks at me in wonder as his blood flows down my arm. For some reason it all seems familiar to me. He tries to choke something out, all I can hear is a gurgle. The blood froths around my claws. I snarl at him and twist my hand, blood soaked claws tearing apart soft flesh. His head is severed, it falls to the ground with a dull thump and bounces lightly and then it's over. I look down at it as the snow billows around me. Far below the horns and cars of the city can be heard. I'm standing on the roof of a tall building. On the ground nearby are two other dead bodies.

I look down at the old man I've just killed. I turn to look at the other two. One is a young man with short spiked bleached blonde hair. His face has a look of shock and betrayal on it. Next to him is a middle aged woman with the face of a statue. Her dark hair is pulled back into a simple bun, her elegant features are splattered with blood. There's a hole in her chest right where her heart should be. Her crystalline eyes are locked open in pain, staring up into the snow dripping clouds above. I glance at myself, I'm spattered in blood and gore, and there's only one question I have.

What the hell have I done now?

Chapter One: Ruminations of Blood

Hello there, I'm the rubber band man. You might ask why, it's very simple. Did you ever feel as though you had a sense of deja vu'. Deja vu' you say? Deja vu' is memories that seem familiar, thoughts already had, feelings already felt. A minor flash of bother in your calm and linear existence. But not for me. For me deja vu' is all too real at times. My world is a world of flashes and half glimpsed existence. My mind snaps back and forth within my world like a ball on a string...like a rubber band. I always try to grab on, try to figure out what's happening. But then, inevitably, the rubber band snaps again and I'm off to a new place and time.

Other then that I'm pretty normal. As a matter of fact I do my best to just deal with it. Normal you say? Yes, it is, at least for me. I'm a Malkavian. That means I'm part of a clan of vampires known for exhibiting madness. In some of us it gets pretty bad, I've seen some Malkavians amongst the Sabbat who've degenerated into lunatic, childlike murderers. I've met another who was certain that his pet rat told him what to do. Of course some of us are pretty plain. Like Jilean, primogen of our clan in Detroit. I don't even know what her problem is, but she seems pretty normal.

Fact is it's the normal ones that worry me. Sure they might just be obsessive about keeping their home spotlessly clean, but you never can be sure. Watch the normal ones, it's the mad ones you can trust. It can be rough, everyone who knows about Malkavians knows we have to be at least a little loony. It can make for a difficult first impression. Oh him? That's Bob the Malkavian, he's insane. You can bet our clan isn't exactly trusted either. Who'd want to trust a certifiable loon with anything?

That's why I'm glad I'm normal. It gives me a chance to interact better with those who get to know me, just so long as they realize that I may act like I just met them, because for me...I am. I live in Detroit now, but it's only for a while. I travel a lot, keep moving around. Something in me just likes to keep things fresh and interesting. Also, if I stay one place too long my memories can really start to get jumbled. Detroit's okay, even if my clan is weird. I know that seems strange to say about a bunch of Malkavians. But the clan here in Detroit even gives me the willies. They just seem a little extra...unhinged. Especially Jilean, however normal she might be. She's not my type of normal. Me? Oh yes, you can trust me.

I'm in a hotel room. I'm sitting on a chair looking at the bed. There's a dead girl on it, a blackened hole in her chest. I catch a whiff of burning, burning flesh and burning paper. I glance over, a wastepaper basket nearby has some burning bits of paper in it. Nothing more then ash and embers now. My left arm hurts. I look at it, I've been shot. I try to use some blood to heal but it's a no go, whoever shot me used a phosphorus round. Phosphorus you say? Phosphorus, a chemical that can burn without air and under water, a nasty burning annoyance, used by vampires to kill other vampires. Guess that explains the burned flesh smell. Guess that means she's a vampire too. But who is she? Why is she dead? Why am I here? Why is she here? Why was I shot? Who did the shooting?

With a condition like mine you learn some tricks. You see, I remember most of what happens to me. Just, I don't remember it all in all times. The other problem is sometimes it's too quick or strange for it to stick. Other times it's just that I'm put into a place where I haven't already experienced how I got here. Like now. Last I remember is a nightclub. I had just left a meeting of my clan and gone to a nightclub. Is that where I met her? Look for the note. Notes, handy things. I generally try to leave myself one or two in any given time flash, it customarily helps me later on. I'm wearing my usual black slacks and turtleneck sweater with a leather jacket. I reach into my jacket pocket. I pull out the notes.

'You have a room reserved at the Marriott Royale on East Timberlake St. Rent has been paid for until the first of March 2001'

'Her name is Samantha, you think you love her'

'Keep an eye out for Tony, he owes you a big favor 213-473-1982 Beware his lies'

'Help Samantha. She's scared of her sire, Decker. Why?'

Samantha? I stand up and walk over to her. Her face is slack, the bullet tore right into her heart. I look down at the poor creature, she doesn't look a day over sixteen. What sort of monster would embrace her? What sort of monster would kill her? She's dressed in a loose black dress, her face is pale, her lips and eyes have black makeup on them. I run a hand along her soft black hair. Samantha, I think I loved you, and now you're dead.

I'm not even left with the memories of our time together. How had it been? Did you feel the same? How did it sound when you laughed? Did your eyes twinkle, did your lips curl slightly upwards at the sight of me? Did we dance, did we cry, did we love? I step back from her, I see the gun laying on the ground nearby. The gun! I walk over and pick it up. A revolver, I open the drum and look at the two empty spots where bullets should be. It's the murder weapon! I write myself a note.

'The revolver killed Samantha and shot you in arm. Phosphorus rounds. Serial number 2648Z.'

Samantha, I never got to know you. But I will, I'll get a chance to live through the bittersweet time we'll have together. I only hope I was worth it to you. I slip the gun into my pocket as I decide what I have to do. Revenge. It's an ugly word for an ugly feeling. But that's the feeling I have. I'll trace the gun, I'll talk to her friends. I'll find out who did this and I'll make them suffer for it. I kiss her once on the lips before I go.

Samantha, my dead, unremembered love. I'll never forget you. There's a snap, and I'm gone.

"I don't think the boss cares to see you."

There's a gorilla who's learned to shave standing in front of me. His dark beady eyes glare at me as he stands in the doorway of a large condo. I'm holding the torn remains of a note in my hands. I'm dressed up in some god awful powdered blue lounge lizard suit with a yellow tie. I hate yellow. My arm hurts. I grin up at the gorilla, it's obvious I was here to get in. But the question is how to get by him peacefully. I don't seem to remember having much cash...I reach into my pockets and my hand closes around a folded up bill. I pull it out and glance quickly at it. Well, well, things are going my way for once tonight. I hold it between two fingers in front of him.

"Are you sure the boss doesn't want to see me? I have an appointment."

The gorilla eyes the twenty for a few moments. I can almost see the gears in his brain turning. Finally he nods to me, his cheeks wobbling with the movement. His hand reaches up and grabs the money as he steps slowly out of my way. I put my hands in my pockets as I wander into the condo. I pull out my notes with one of them as I look around. It's a nice place, all furnished with expensive stuff. The gorilla escorts me into a large sitting room. A couple men are inside of it and talking. One of them is a dark skinned fellow with an eye-patch. The other two are young men with broad shoulders and strong chins. The last is an old man with bushy eyebrows and a white beard, he's holding an ornately carved cane.

"Boss, this man says he needs to see you."

The old man looks at me curiously. Eye-patch scowls and slips his hand inside his jacket. I hold up the tattered halves of the note I was holding and put them next to each other so I can read them.

'Decker will be at his condo on Lacainam drive. The house with a green door. Till one'

Decker. I know him. He's a Malkavian too, part of the clan in Detroit. A sudden image of a pale faced girl with a hole in her chest flashes through my thoughts. I quickly dig out my other notes.

"Ah, Donovan. What are you doing here?"

Decker watches patiently as I pull out my notes. He probably realizes I'm not exactly sure why I'm here. There's a bit of an unwritten rule in the clan. If we're being polite we don't mock other clan member's little quirks. I read over my notes before looking back up. Some have gotten wet and smudged in places.

'Her name is Samantha, you think you love her'

'Keep an eye out for Tony, he owes you a big favor 213-473-1982 Beware his lies'

'Help Samantha. She's scared of her sire Decker, why?'

'The revolver killed Samantha and shot you in arm. Phosphorus rounds. Serial number 2648Z.'

'Called Tony about gun, ....... owes me'

'Crystal will get you a meeting with Decker 213-921-7392'

'Crystal will help against Decker and others, she seeks.......trust her'

'Watch for the ...'s agents'

"Hello Decker. I need to talk to you about Samantha. Do you remember Samantha?"

"Who?"

"Samantha, you should remember her. Young girl, black hair, pale skin." I pull up a pen and another note as I talk. Decker is shaking his head in confusion. "You should remember her you bastard. She was your childe, and now she's dead!"

"My childe? Donovan, think about it. I don't have any childer. You've gotten confused again...unless. Are you remembering the future again?"

I jot down a note as I consider his answer. I'm not remembering, I have notes. The notes don't lie because I wrote them. If you lie to yourself it's just very sad. But why is he saying what he's saying? Is he trying to fool me? Use me?

"How did you find me Donovan? I don't tend to advertise where I live."

"Crystal was able to tell me," I say with a slight grin. "It was easier to find you then you'd like to imagine."

I'm of course perhaps lying here. I have no idea how hard it really was to find him. But, better he thinks me more capable then I really am. It might help intimidate him. However he doesn't look intimidated, he looks angry. His hands grip the handle of his cane tightly, his thin lips slowly curve downward.

"Crystal? That Ventrue harlot? What has she been telling you Donovan. What's going on here?"

I write down a bit more. I look back up at Decker as he stands from his chair and walks towards me. There's a snap, and I'm gone.

Chapter Four: The Final Piece First

"Wow m'man, you look like you've seen better days!"

I glance up from my drink. I'm in a bar. Neon lights flash around me. I can feel the hunger inside, I must not have eaten recently. My arm is sore. I glance up at the figure even now sliding onto the bench across from me. Young kid, his short hair spiked up and bleached blonde. Pulsing green lights slash across his pale handsome face, he grins at me. His red silk shirt and black leather jacket practically scream vampire wannabe. But a glimpse at his aura proves he's the real thing. I've met him before...I know I have.

"If you know me then I suppose I've mentioned my condition?"

I always ask that. It helps me to remember to mention it. It helps cut down on confusion. Except of course for the confusion of people who can't believe I might know the future before I know the past. What they can't seem to grasp is that I cannot change it. If I've seen the future that means I'll be going there soon enough, and my past can't affect it because it has already happened. That is why I cannot save Samantha, I can only seek revenge.

"It's me, Tony. I knew there was a chance ya wouldn't recognize me. It's always sorta fun to see what phase of time you seem to be in. So man, what'cha up to?"

What indeed? I remember the hotel room, I must have gone out to find the information on the gun. Unless I've already done that, or have yet to even be in the hotel room. I go for my notes, only I'm not wearing my jacket. I'm still in that powder blue lounge lizard suit, replete with a yellow tie. I hate yellow. Luckily my notes are in the pocket, looks like some got wet and are hard to read.

'Her name is Samantha, you think you love her'

'Keep an eye out for Tony, he owes you a big favor 213-473-1982 Beware his lies'

'Help Samantha. She's scared of her sire Decker, why?'

'The revolver killed Samantha and shot you in arm. Phosphorus rounds. Serial number 2648Z.'

'Called Tony about gun, ....... owes me'

'Crystal will get you a meeting with Decker 213-921-7392'

'Crystal will help against Decker and others, she seeks.......trust her'

'Watch for the ...'s agents'

'Decker denies Samantha. Hates Crystal, might try to hurt her. He tried to kill you.'

I've been busy. The notes flip through my hands quickly as I scan them, facts given without the right reference. But you learn to be good at knowing what you meant, you learn not to put too much in case the wrong person reads them. I glance up at Tony and nod to him, yes, it's Tony. He sits back waiting quietly, his eyes flick around though. He seems calm, but he isn't. He seems comfortable, but he watches everything. I glance back at my notes and find the one about him again. His lies...I should be careful. I flip the note over and glance at the back, there's a second note scrawled quickly on it.

'Will have to be removed when no longer useful'

"So Tony," I put away my notes and glance up at him. "Did you do the favor for me yet?"

"Sure as hell I did," he reaches into his jacket and pulls out some rolled up papers. "It took some real maneuvering to get the info as quickly as you wanted it, but I managed."

He shoves the papers towards me with an excited flourish. He knocks my drink over, spraying the tabletop and myself with coffee. I curse and wipe at the stains. As though this suit wasn't ugly enough already. He grows very still and looks at the stain in surprise.

"Holy shit, you were talking about that? Damn I'm sorry, I should've known with it being you and all. Anyway, here's the info. You can look it over and all but it's exactly what you told me it'd be. The gun was owned by Decker. I even found some of the guys he went hunting around to when he was getting the phosphorus rounds."

I take the papers and read over them. Yes, this is what I was looking for, the proof. Decker did it, he killed his own childe in cold blood and for no apparent reason. With this I could even get the prince and his men off my ass and hunting the right ass. But...why should I do that? After all, I've gone through this much, I suppose I should see it to the end. Besides, Decker has enough clout he might just buy his way out of the mess by promising all sorts of favors. No, he killed Samantha, and now he's going to die. I write myself a note, Tony watches.

"Oh man, you're seriously going to go and do it aren't you? Man, you never seemed the type." He runs a hand through his hair nervously and lets out a gusty sigh of breath. "Look...I still owe you for more then just this research is going to pay back. How about I come with and make sure everything goes okay?"

I glance up at him suspiciously. 'Beware his lies'. He has lead me to Decker, he says he's a friend. He does owe me though. I nod and write out a second note before we go. There's a snap, and I'm gone.

I'm standing in a well furnished sitting room. The walls are bright white and covered with large paintings of shattered black landscapes. A large red throw rug lies across the white tile floor. A design of an intricate star within a circle sewn within it. There are a pair of black leather chairs placed around a low black glass table. Standing behind one of the chairs is a pair of young men. Both in nice gray suits, both blonde, both blue eyes. Sitting in the other chair is a dark complexioned man with an eye-patch. He has his hand tucked inside his black trench coat. Standing directly in front of me is an old man leaning on a black rune covered cane. His bushy white eyebrows nettle together as he stares at me with his beady black eyes.

"Decker!"

Here he is, I don't need any more information then that. I remember Samantha you bastard. I know what you did to her! My fist is a quick blur as it lashes up and catches him across the jaw. I hear the satisfying crunch of his jaw dislocating. My arm explodes in pain, it was already damaged. My other hand drops towards the revolver in my jacket. Only thing is, I'm not in my jacket. I'm dressed up in that damned hideous powder blue lounge lizard suit, replete with a yellow tie. I hate yellow. My brief pause costs me. I'm suddenly lifted off the ground as a pair of massive arms wrap about my chest. The brute who grabbed me grunts in satisfaction, his breath stinks of egg salad.

Eye-patch has hopped to his feet, his hand drawing a silver handled magnum out from under his coat. I quickly jerk my head back. My skull connects with a crack onto the nose of the guy holding me. He grunts again, only this time in pain, and drops me. I quickly leap to the side as I reach under my powdered blue coat for the lump of weight I felt there. My fingers close around the handle of the revolver as I roll back up to my feet only a few steps from Decker. He looks at me in surprise as he struggles to stand, blood leaking from his mouth. I pull out the revolver and point it at his face.

"This is for Samantha!"

I pull the trigger, there's a wet pop and a bit of smoke leaks from around the barrel. Decker's eyes flare wide in fear, and then narrow in anger.

"Misfire! Get the little bastard!"

I quickly turn and hurl the gun into the face of one of the two golden lads. He yelps in pained surprise as it splatters his nose over his face. His friend leaps at me, I quickly snap up my foot, it connects hard with his jaw. I break a toe...he loses some teeth. Suddenly a freight train slams into my gut. I'm tossed back to slam against a wall. I look up in surprise as the huge figure who grabbed me storms forward. I kick out sharply into his knee as he bends over me. I hear the dull pop as it dislocates. He staggers and collapses as I roll to the side and back onto my feet. Eye-patch sneers at me as he slaps his hand down quickly on the hammer of his gun, fanning the magnum. The bullets smash into me like tiny cannonballs. I'm again tossed back against the wall, only this time I stay down. I groan weakly as I slump to the ground, my body torn open.

"What the hell were you thinking Donovan? You shouldn't have let Crystal get into your head. Now it looks like I'll have to deal with both of you."

There's a snap, and I'm gone.

I'm running down a dark back street alongside a river. The chill night wind rushes over my face. The black waters of the river gurgle and slosh in the darkness. My arm hurts. I come to a stop. I straighten my leather jacket and look around. Where am I? What was I doing? Why was I running? Even as I'm reaching into my pockets for my notes somebody slams into me from behind.

"Got you!"

Ah, that explains it. I was running away from this guy. I'm thrown forward to land hard on the pavement of the sidewalk. He grabs the back of my head and pushes my face into the ground. I hear the click of a gun hammer being pulled back. Obviously I was running from him. Obviously he means me harm. Thus it's obvious what my reaction needs to be. I do appreciate when I don't have to second guess my actions. I'd hate to think I hurt someone when I shouldn't have. I quickly shove my hand into my jacket and grab the revolver waiting there. I feel him press his gun to the back of my head. I twist the revolver so it's pointing up through the back of my jacket. I fire.

I hear him scream in pain as his weight suddenly lifts off me. I roll up to my feet. My jacket is on fire. I curse and bat at the small flame. My assailant is getting back to his feet, his right arm clutching his side. He's a young guy, dressed all in black with a black trench coat. For some reason I seem to recall him being a deputy of the sheriff. They're hunting me for killing Samantha. Bastards. As though my pain at losing my love wasn't enough. The young man's eyes suddenly shift behind me, I feel a sudden chill.

Then the shadow wraps around my throat. Of course! The sheriff of Detroit is a Lasombra, surely so would be some of his flunkies. I gag and struggle in the freezing grip of the living tendril of shadow. The young man charges forward quickly. His arm snaps out and slams into my gut. I feel a rib pop as I double over in pain. He quickly spins to the side and clubs both of his arms onto my back. More bones splinter as I collapse to the ground. His foot skips out, his boot crashing hard into my face. I'm lifted up a few feet and spin around before the shadow tether suddenly grows taunt and pulls me back to crash hard onto the pavement.

This guy hits like a tank! I better do something quick, or I'm dead! I growl as my fingernails suddenly elongate. Sharpening and forming into brutal talons. The Lasombra curses and quickly hops back. I take the second of free space to rip my claws into the shadowy tentacle holding me. The inky blackness shreds apart under my blow, I'm free again. I spin towards him, but he's pulling out another gun. That's bad, I only have a partially loaded revolver and I'm a lousy shot. I spin away from him and run for it. There's no nearby cover, so I take the next best option. Two bullets slap into my back and rip through my body as I leap up onto the guardrail. I leap off and sail through the air down towards the black waters of the river below. I hit hard, sinking deep. The freezing black depths close in about me. There's a snap, and I'm gone.