[Another year
gone, another year closer to some ancient, impending doom. Night
after night I can see it in the abysmal night sky, the fading stars,
and the moon which offers it's lovely pale-blue light to this world
that so often takes it for granted. It goes unnoticed on this night
of nights, as the sky fills with fire of every color, while the
Kindred and Kine across the planet celebrate . . . celebrate what?
The chime as the clock strikes midnight? Yet another day we must live
out our lives? An excuse to poison the liver and act like
unbelievable idiots without fearing the consequences? Fools.
Nothing's changed. Those lost last year are still gone, illnesses
that plagued the body still wreak havoc within, the money fritted
away during the holidays still rests in the sweaty hands of the
government, and I am still as dead as I was last year.
Raziya
Rodriguez watched her sire, whom she so loved so very much, enter the
bar. At 18 years old, she had completed her training at the monastery
and headed out into the streets of Los Angeles for the first time.
"Smiling" Jack had sired her that very night, and convinced a
fellow Brujah, who was already marked for Final Death, to watch over
her while he hunted. Thankfully, none had ever discovered Jack was
her true sire.
Raziya turned her back to the window overlooking
the filth covered streets below The Last Round and sighed. Truly,
nothing much had changed since that fateful night 3 years ago when
Sebastian Lacroix, the former Prince of Downtown, Los Angeles, had
his little "accident" up in his tower. Her unlife up until that
point had been extremely eventful, unusually so for one in her
situation, and the week that followed had been highly entertaining.
Raziya had become the full owner of Club Confession, after licking
Venus Dare's last drops of blood from her delicate fingers. The
Anarchs had needed to claim Downtown L.A. as their domain, and asked
Raziya to be the Baron (though only publicly) since she was the only
one who had patience for the responsibilities the position entails.
It had been fun and games at first, but soon came the time she last
remembered laughing: When Nines yelled that it was time for Jack to
get rid of the mummified corpse of Messarach, while Jack had claimed
he was "part of the family now."
A sudden, loud cracking sound
and a shout brought the girl back to her senses. The latest "Cammy
do-gooder" had been dangerously close to provoking Damsel for quite
some time now, and it sounded as though she were finally beating some
sense into him. [Poor bastard. She brushed the loose strands of her
long Irish red hair behind her ear and headed downstairs to join the
others.
Ten Seconds
[Every
New Year it's nearly fuckin' impossible to get a drop of sober
blood, but hell I'm not complaining. I don't really care one way
or another about "drunk blood," granted it is a helluva lot
easier to get. The humans react slower and foolishly at best, and you
can do what the fuck you want in front of them knowing that they
can't trust their own judgment, let alone get someone else to
believe them. Only downside is once it hits you, it hits you hard and
right about now I'd be fucking boned if I was attacked in full
force. Could be worse, I could be one of those low-bloods stumbling
around the alleys, drinking what's left of their lives away. Geh!
Even worse still, I could have drained one of 'em. Disgusting shit,
and I'd really rather not throw up what little I did get from those
back alley teenagers. Doesn't matter, nearly back at the bar, then
I'm done for the night.
Jack frowned as he made his way up the
kine-covered street. He normally had no problems slipping in and out
of the crowd, but tonight he had taken in contaminated blood, and the
flocks of people heading to the center of the city to watch the
fireworks display were pushing him around quite a bit. The former
pirate grunted as he fought off the urge to string up these drunkards
with their own insides. They weren't worth the effort.
As he
finally approached The Last Round, Jack looked at the second floor
window where his childe, Raziya, always waited for him with her
beautifully tragic smile across her face. That smile of hers always
brought back the memories of about 20 years ago, when he had
befriended the 6 year old Irish beauty, after being captured by the
L.A. Society of Leopold. They wanted to see what would happen to a
vampire that was starved for blood, and kept him there for 3 months.
Luckily for him on his first night there, Raziya had crept downstairs
and offered her blood in exchange for some friendly words, and had
done so every night after that before finally helping him escape.
[Sweet kid. He grinned as he slammed into the door of the bar, and
headed inside.
As soon as he stepped in, Jack's ears were
assaulted with the usual sounds of "hardcore" music, Nines and
Skelter competitively playing darts, and Damsel beating some poor
Camarilla prick's head into the wall beside her. Jack shook his
head as he sat down across from the TV. He could hear Raziya heading
towards the stairs, and waited for her to join him as he took in the
sights and sounds of the Anarchs that had become not only a coterie,
but a close-nit pack that would fight, kill and possibly die for one
another. He heard a loud SNAP coming from Damsel's direction,
followed by a scream from the whelp that had pissed her off. Jack
turned back to the TV . . . Nearly midnight . . .
Nine Seconds
[Worst
part about running this place is taking the damned inventory . . .
well, maybe not the worst part, but definitely the most boring. The
cleaning can be pretty bad too, and throwing out the "disruptions,"
this bar can be more trouble than it's worth, but hell, it's
mine. The last customer for the night headed out to watch the
fireworks, they should be starting soon . . . never been so relieved
to hear the last human haul his ass out that door. All right, let's
see what the damage is . . . We'll be needing to order in a bit
more food and a hell of a lot more booze, not to mention a good
couple of crates of new mugs to replace the ones Skelter's been
breaking over people's head since fuckin' Thanksgiving. God Damn
the holidays bring out the worst in people. 35 . . . 36 . . . 37 . .
. 38 . . . 39 . . . One more . . . Done, finally, thank Fucking
God.
After re-stacking the crates and boxes in the back room of
the bar, Nines headed out to relax with the rest of his crew. He had
to duck under Damsel's arm as she reached for the Camarilla newbie
who had been harassing her all last month, and watched as she
proceeded to bash the creep's head into the wall at her side. That
particular spot on the wall had worn down after all the times she had
done this, and Nines noted that the place would soon need a fresh
coat of paint. Then again, nearly everything in the bar looked like
it needed some fixing up these nights, since the near constant bar
fights had taken their toll on the place. He didn't want to admit
it, but each night The Last Round looked as though it was coming
closer and closer to closing down for good.
Nines shook his head
violently in a vain attempt to rid himself of those thoughts, and
didn't hesitate to start a game of darts with Skelter. He didn't
allow himself to relax all that often, and very rarely played any
games, but hell, it couldn't hurt to let loose just this once.
Taking a few darts from Skelter, Nines turned to the dart-board on
the wall and cringed at the peeling paneling all around him. [If
these darts hit my wall and screw it up any more, I'm gonna lose my
shit… Nines sighed and took his first shot in what he knew would
become a heated competition, as it always did on the occasions that
Skelter challenged him to a game.
After a couple of darts hit the
walls, and a couple of curses left his lips, Nines heard Jack enter
the bar with a bit of a swagger, telling that he'd had a bit of bad
blood very recently. Nines clenched his jaw and turned around
awaiting the onslaught when Raziya inevitably discovered Jack was
buzzed, she fucking hated that. He caught a glimpse of Damsel rubbing
the bloodied-up Cammy's face against a rusted old door hinge, and
heard a sickening CRACK and yelp. [That's got to hurt.
Eight Seconds
[Oh
fucking great, here we go again. Why does this little puke insist on
coming in here and pissing me off every single night? It's almost
like he gets some sick, twisted joy out of watching me fucking
scream. Argh, I was NOT put here for his God damn entertainment. If
he gets the balls to ask me why we won't let the Camarilla back in
one more time, I'm going to put my foot so far up his ass he'll
be tying my shoelaces with his tongue. Oh blah, blah, blah . . . what
the hell is he bitching about this time? Even though I don't give a
rat's ass he just keeps on talking. The hell? What . . . What the
FUCK did he just say? Delinquents and ingrates? He is really fucking
asking for it this time… man, if I didn't promise Nines I'd try
to be good tonight . . . WHAT? Nines? A scum-sucking asshole? That's
fucking it, I'm going to rip this dickweed a new one!
Over the
decades, Damsel put up with a lot of crap from a lot of people. Even
though she often lost her temper, it was very rare that she acted out
and attacked someone. However, there was one thing that always pushed
her too far, she wouldn't stand for it, and she would make anyone
who crossed the line sorry they didn't jump head first into the
sunrise the day before. Nines was, quite possibly, the most important
part of Damsel's unlife. He had been there since her very first
night, he taught her all she needed to know, he sheltered and
protected her . . . He may not have been her sire, but they had a
connection that most Kindred would never understand. As far as this
Fiery redhead was concerned, anyone who dared to insult Nines in
front of her better have an urn picked out.
Feeling the rage
building inside her, Damsel reached over and grabbed the Cammy
bastard by the throat, as Nines slipped under her arm into the Main
portion of the bar. She hesitated, wondering if he was going to start
on her for breaking her promise, but he acted as though he didn't
even notice. He seemed a little too distracted by the rundown state
of his beloved bar. She decided she would apologize later, maybe try
to comfort him, and proceeded to ram the Newbie asshole's head into
the wall.
Damsel fell into repeatedly beating the fledgling, while
watching Nines and Skelter get into an entertainingly frustrating
game of darts. [Heh, when Nines is pissed off he's actually kinda .
. . Her thought's were interrupted when Jack nearly fell into the
bar, drunk again, just like last year. [Raz is gonna have a fit . . .
The sound of shattering bone marrow and a shriek brought Damsel
back to what she was doing. She let go and watched the unconscious
Kindred slump to the floor, his nose squashed flat against his
face.
Seven Seconds
[Well,
damn, look at that. Kid's got a lot more balls than I gave him
credit for. Didn't think he'd be back after Damsel nearly ripped
his face off last night. Ah, man, fuck that shit. Lick ain't gutsy,
he's just fuckin' stupid. Come back to prove a point? Only point
that needs to be made is "you screw 'round with us and you ain't
getting' back to your haven in one piece." Figures, he's back
bitchin' about the Camarilla again, and he's picked the wrong
damn person to mess with this night. We could have gone another year
without the Camarilla's bullshit if it wasn't for the boy over
there treadin' on our turf. Good thing I appreciate that everyone's
an equal here, or I would have shown his ashes to the door a long
time ago. Doesn't matter… Soon enough he'll be sayin' the
wrong thing to the "college girl" over there and she'll be
takin' care of him herself. This should be fun to watch.
For
the last 2 hours Skelter had been watching TV, lounging back on this
favorite chair downstairs with his feet on the table. Of course if
Nines were in the room he wouldn't dare keep his feet up like this,
not since Nines started worrying about the condition of his bar
anyways. It was a pretty sad sight, watching him go through the
motions not knowing what to do, looking so worn out and tired every
time he looked around at the place withering away. The Last Round was
going through a vicious cycle: They didn't have any money because
they had no customers, they didn't have customers because the place
was falling apart, and the place was falling apart because they
didn't have any money. There wasn't much any of the Anarchs could
do about it, except maybe Raziya, who had been saving up money she'd
been making at her club to help Nines out a bit.
Without any
warning, Skelter heard a vicious growl erupt from Damsel as she
reached towards the New-Kid and grabbed his scrawny little neck.
Nines had finished the inventory in the back and ducked under
Damsel's arm just as she had made the grab. Skelter did a
double-take when he saw the exhausted look on their leaders' face,
he looked as though he desperately needed a distraction. Making up
his mind, Skelter shifted his feet from the table, headed over to the
dart board on the back wall, and offered some darts to Nines. [May
not be much, but it should help for now. The two started up their
game knowing that in a matter of minutes they would be competing at
each other's throats.
Just as things were getting fairly heated,
Jack burst through the door and took a seat opposite the TV. [Aw
shit, bad blood again … there's gonna be hell to pay. CRACK.
Skelter snapped his head in the direction of the sound and watched as
the Camarilla boy cried out and slumped to the floor, unconscious.
['Bout damn time.
Six Seconds
[I
found out I had a younger sister when I was 9 years old and for 10
years, Raziya and I wrote to each other every week. I lived in Japan
during these years… We sent each other gifts and I tried to teach
her Japanese, while she taught me what she learned of the
supernatural. It's been three years since I last heard from my
sister, three years since our cousin, Samantha, told me she saw
Raziya in Hollywood … That's why I'm in Los Angeles. I didn't
want to leave my Hero, or Dakota and Abigail, but I just have to know
what happened to her. I've been gone for nearly a week, and I still
have one lead to check out, but if it doesn't go anywhere I'll
need to head home, I miss Hero and the kids, and I know they miss me
too. I wish I could be there for Abbey's first New Year's… It's
nearly midnight … I'll give them a call after I check out the
Bail Bonds place.
Rosalinn Messhamora adjusted her hood over her
long mahogany hair and left the cover of the Santa Monica Parking
Garage. It had been raining for hours, though it looked as though the
rain may light up before the celebrations got into full swing down by
the Pier. The streets were nearly empty since everyone was either
cooped up in their homes with their families, or down at the beach
waiting for the party to really get going once the clock hit
midnight. Rosalinn smiled as the warm rain kissed her face, making
her miss Hero all the more. She sighed as she turned the corner
across the street from a rather cozy looking Diner. Maybe when she
was done for the night, she would grab a bite to eat, if the place
was still open.
She passed the Junkyard and the SunCo Gasoline
place all the while feeling as though she were being watched from the
other side of the chain link gate. [That's just creepy. Rosalinn
felt a cold chill creep up her spine, and she quickened her pace,
hoping the feeling was merely caused by the Doomsayer across the
street screaming about the Apocalypse. She cast a weary glance at him
before entering the door beneath the sign marked "A&B
Kilpatrick's 24 Hour Bail Bonds."
Once inside, Rosalinn
removed her hood, allowing her long hair to tumble out down past her
hips, and proceeded to look around the shop. A large, beefy man with
slicked back, greasy black hair had fallen asleep at his desk and was
snoring happily, oblivious to her presence. She decided not to wake
him, and headed to the back of the room to check out the "Amazing
Krime-puter" in the back. A few quick key strokes later, Rosalinn
came across the sub directory "Rodriguez, Raziya." She smiled as
she jotted down the address of the club Confession, which her sister
apparently owned. [Found you.
Five Seconds
[Alright,
the kids have been properly fed and recently changed … the plants
have been watered, and the dishes have been washed. I think that's
all I need to do tonight… I wonder why Rosalinn hasn't called
yet? She'll probably call after midnight to say Happy New Year.
Damn, I miss her, but she needed to do this. I hope she finds her
sister, I don't think I could stand it if she came home
disappointed and depressed like the last time she tried this. Every
year we get closer to finding Raziya, and every year we fail. We keep
moving closer to where we think she is, but we can't continue doing
that now that we have Dakota and Abbey, they need the stability, and
we just don't have the money to keep this up. All I can really do
now is wait and hope … hmm … Abigail is asleep on the couch and
Dakota is … Oh no, where did he go now?
In the time that his
wife had been in Los Angeles, Hero Messhamora had had the opportunity
to further bond with his children. The college had shut down classes
for the holiday season, so Hero and Rosalinn decided it would be the
perfect time for him to spend time with the kids, while she went to
look for her sister. Being a parent was definitely the hardest, yet
most rewarding job in the world … Hero lifted his sweet
one-year-old daughter off the couch and carried her upstairs all the
while keeping an eye open for his mischievous two-year-old, who would
have no doubt found a place to stash his diaper by now. He sighed as
he lowered Abbey into her crib, wishing Rosalinn was there to sing to
the kids while he stood and listened in the doorway.
After Abigail
was put to bed, Hero wandered around looking for his AWOL son with
increasing anxiety. The longer Dakota ran around, the sooner he would
lose the diaper, and Hero dreaded the mess that would more than
likely follow. When he reached the stairs at the top of the landing,
Hero glanced the abandoned diaper that had been dropped on the 3rd
step from the bottom, while a little fleshy-pink bottom took off into
the kitchen. [Ha! Gotcha! He raced down the stairs, nearly slipping
on the diaper, and ran into the kitchen at top speed. Dakota had run
through the hallway and from the sound of it had found the remote
control to the TV. Hero grinned as he crept up to the living room,
planning on surprising his little jaybird son. Unfortunately, his
plan didn't take into consideration the foot-sized toy car in the
doorway, which Hero noted when his foot slid forward as he fell
backwards with a cry. [Fucking Ow. Dakota's small giggle answered
his father's cry of pain, as he cuddled up to the human lump on the
floor. Hero chuckled as he picked up the little nudist and took him
to get a new "diaper of oppression" before putting him to
bed.
Four Seconds
Just
outside the city limits, hidden from the prying eyes of mortals, was
a dark and musty underground temple, just barely lit by the seemingly
endless supply of torches adorning the walls. This was a place of
Death and Destruction, a place that kept a cold chill in the hearts
of the monsters who dwelled within. Many had died here, both Kindred
and kine, and they had died the wrong way.
The swish of flowing
fabric could be heard within the walls of the temple, along with the
soft footsteps passing over earth and stone. Whomever these steps
belonged to walked with a purpose as dark as the temple halls, and
the movement of the material told of a confident air. The footsteps
soon ceased, bringing about a kind of silence that resonates through
a cemetery in the dark recesses of the night. It did not last long.
The dread quiet was broken by a woman's cold, cruel voice.
"I
have returned from the world above. This city is ripe and ready for
the picking. It's only a matter of time before the shadow spreads
over the streets thick as blood. Kindred and kine alike will cater to
my every desire or risk Final Death in the morning light. Yes, dear
brother, the time will soon come when we stride through our kingdom,
vanquishing those who stand in our way, punishing all who oppose us.
Arise from your slumber, little brother. The night, she beckons to us
… let us answer her sweetly seductive call. We only have but 10
seconds to midnight."
The woman stepped back, as the ground
below her feet began to shift and part, and two inhuman, filthy hands
broke through the surface bringing with it a truly terrifying demon.
The creature let out a frustrated snarl as he hauled his body from
the grave, and looked to his sister with eyes that glowed like the
fires of hell. With movements quick as lightening, he advanced on the
intruder, taking a swipe at her with his massive claws and missing
her by little more than an inch.
"What reason have you for
waking me, sister?" The demon spit out the last word, as he rested
on his tombstone. "I thought my instructions were clear that you
were not to wake me until the Final Nights were upon us."
"Does
this mean you aren't happy to see me?" The woman answered with a
sneer, which was answered with an irritated growl. "The Final
Nights may well be upon us, brother, and I have a way to speed it
along. But for tonight, we must make sure you are fed. The kine above
us are drunk with pleasure, slow and stupid as a result of their
celebrations, they will come to us willingly."
The demon eyes
his sister. "Celebrations? What celebrations?"
"They
celebrate the coming of a new year, which will be here in … three …
two … one."
The two monsters beneath the ground could hear the
thunderous explosion of cheers coming from the people in the city
above. The woman in the shadows grinned and kissed her brother's
deformed cheek.
"Happy New Year Mikhail."
