Disclaimer: I don't own V:tMB and I kinda own my main character, the part I don't own is the fact that she's Tremere

Disclaimer: I don't own V:tMB and I kinda own my main character, the part I don't own is the fact that she's Tremere. Her clan, plus all the identifiable V:tMB characters are owned by White Wolf Inc. The rest of my main character I do, in fact, own. Please be kind, this is my first V:tMB fic.

1. Chapter One

During the ten years that passed since that night, I'd done my best to keep Prince LaCroix happy. He'd spared my life, and I knew that it wasn't something he always did with fledglings like me. As much of a jerk as he was, and as much as he bossed me around during my ten years working for him, I owed him my life. Keeping him happy was the least I could do.

He was late for our meeting, but that wasn't so odd. He'd left a note on his desk, saying that the Primogen annual meeting might run long and he might be a little late. So I stood idly by, waiting for his meeting to end. Sheriff was watching me as if I was going to do something wrong, but saying nothing to me. I smiled and gave him a little wave.

"Hey big buddy," I said. He huffed in response. "I hear ya." I put the tips of my fingers on the gold top of the desk and brushed them against it as I made my way around to the desk chair. I'd always wondered how it felt to sit on LaCroix's chair; he never let anyone but himself sit there. Even Sheriff wasn't allowed to sit there, and he'd been with the LaCroix foundation longer than I had.

I pulled the chair out and slid myself onto it. Almost instantly, I realized why Sebastian liked it so much. There was an odd sense of power sitting in the boss's chair. Well, that, and it was pretty comfortable.

Smiling, I put my combat boots up on the desk and leaned back. I had a general idea of the cushy part of the leader job, and I liked it. No wonder LaCroix was so keen on being head of the Camarilla and the LaCroix foundation. I looked up at Sheriff, who was glaring at me darkly as if he were silently ordering me to get out of the chair. I wanted to make a joke at his not-speaking thing, but he could easily kick my ass.

"Are you quite comfortable?" Sebastian asked. My eyes popped open and saw him standing in front of the desk with his arms crossed in front of his chest. He was giving me that 'or else' face, signaling that I should get out of his chair.

"You want me…out of the chair…don't you?" I asked. He had a sarcastic smile on his face when he nodded. Despite the smile, I was a little afraid of what he'd have Sheriff do to me if I didn't get out of the chair. I stood and moved from his chair, him quickly taking my place. I was kind of agitated; I liked the soft seat on the chair. But it was replaced by Sebastian's ass.

I moved in front of his desk and put my hands in the pockets of my leather trench coat. I tried to convey the image of someone who hadn't been kicked out of their bosses chair, by the boss, and who probably wasn't being laughed at internally by the seven foot lackey standing like one of those British royal guards.

"Do I really need to review the office rules with you?" He asked. I shook my hair, taking only a few seconds to push back some hair out of my face and repocket my hand. "Good, on to business." He continued. "It has come to my attention that a Ghoul over by Club Confession has been attracting a disturbing amount of attention towards the existence of Kindred. Her name is Patty and I need you to go and make her… 'Disappear', is that clear?"

"Go to club confession, find Patty, and eliminate her." I recited. I raised my two Brokk 17c pistols into view as the prince nodded.

"But I don't want a massacre." He said. He took out some forms and doing some office-kind of work. I couldn't be able to say what it was; office work never really interested me. He mumbled as he did so. "It's hard enough upholding the masquerade without having to cover up one of your infamous bloodbaths from the local media." When he looked up and saw I was still there, he gave me a questioning look. "Is there a reason you're still here?"

Quickly, I realized I was supposed to have left. I shook my head quickly and left his office, feeling very foolish about staying in there when he wanted me to leave. But he could have given me the order to leave; I didn't know if that was the whole order so that's why I stayed to see if it was. He should really learn to, at the very least, let me know that he had no other additions to the mission he gave me by telling me to go.

Pushing back my agitation with the prince, I made my way through Downtown L.A to Venus's Club Confession where the ghoul, Patty, was supposedly talking about the kindred in a dangerously loud tone. As much as it would have been fun to push my black sunglasses back onto the bridge of my nose and pull out my guns in a dramatic manner to take care of the loudmouth ghoul—Sebastian had ordered against it, which meant that I couldn't.

Besides, it would just end up a big mess. The police would show up, I'd have to hide in the sewers, and it would just be a lot more of a problem than maybe tricking her into going into a back ally and draining her dry. That would be an easy and effective way to deal with the loud mouth. I kept that in mind as I searched for the almost hidden entrance to Club Confession. A club I visited as often as I could.

The club was filled with its usual mist of red lighting, and gothic costumers of all ages dancing on the cross on the floor, enjoying the time they were having at Venus's club. The best part was that with my pale skin, dark sunglasses, big trench coat, clunky black combat boots, fingerless gloves with the spiked studs on the knuckles, and leather body suit—I hardly stuck out at all. I managed to keep my guns hidden though.

I surveyed my surroundings, trying to spot someone talking about kindred. I spotted the club owner, Venus, serving drinks at the bar. She was a likeable woman and I could have been friends with her; had the situation between us been different. I refused to make friends with kine; it was a type of friendship that was sick with imminent pain. Kine don't last forever like vampires, and their imminent death was painful for immortals who were stupid enough to get close to them. That was one of the only reasons Venus and I weren't friends.

The throbbing beat of the music made my unbeating heart pulsate, as if it was beating again. I was at a loss, I didn't know who Patty was or if she was even at Club Confession that night. I decided that, instead of trying to stand next to everyone to hear if they were talking about vampires, besides, the odds of hearing them correctly was very low and there wasn't room for any major fuck-ups. There had to be a simpler way of doing the job I was assigned.

"Hey! Hey!" Said a voice from behind me. It was so grainy and annoying that I almost defied LaCroix's orders and shot it until it was a bloody mess on the floor. It sounded as though it belonged to a complete airhead, and killing an airhead was a reward in of itself. Even if it did get me in trouble with Sebastian. I turned around and saw a girl in a black leather jacket with red stripes going from the collar to the wrists of the sleeves; and with brown hair reaching to her shoulders. "You look like a vampire; can you help me find someone?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about." I said. I had a pretty good idea that it was the ghoul I was looking for, considering she knew about vampires. The ease of my mission made me edgy; something had to go wrong if things were starting out this good. That was just my philosophy in life, if things are going good they're bound to go bad soon.

"Sure you do! I know you're a vampire. Can you help me find my master? His name is Kent Alan Ryan and he's a Toreador. He dresses so suave and sophisticated; and has really refined tastes." She said. I couldn't stop myself from thinking if his tastes are so refined, why are you his ghoul? But I didn't say it aloud. "…and he's really high up on the vampire social ladder. Do you know where I can find him?"

LaCroix's words echoed in my head. I don't want a massacre, which meant I could either lie to her and say Kent went to San Diego, or telling her that he's in the abandoned hospital, the one with Pisha in it. I thought of the options I had without a massacre, but then I realize that killing one person in secret was hardly thought of as a massacre! Smiling, I said,

"I think I saw some guy in the back ally, drunk as an ass, swearing at a puddle." She smiled very widely.

"That sounds exactly like him!" She said. "I'll go see if it is!" and she left. I swept behind her, making sure she didn't know I was following her. I already had her death in mind, I would drain her dry. If I used my guns like I wanted; it would be heard and the cops would come running. Sebastian really would be very angry with me if he found out I shot the girl without a silencer. It probably would piss him off knowing that I drained her dry, but I was thinking that I'd tell him I stopped by the local back ally and took a drink from a bum before I went in. As embarrassing as it was, if LaCroix was happy; everyone but the Anarchs tended to be happy as well.

Patty went to a back ally a couple of blocks away and stood in front of a truck. A muscular man in a green muscle shirt was smoking a cigarette and blowing the puffs of smoke out his nose. I crept along in the shadows until I accidentally let Patty see me. She gasped rather loudly.

"W-What are you doing here?" She asked. Her voice was shaky, afraid. I jerked her head to the side by her hair and sunk my teeth in. The rush of crimson treats slid down my throat like liquid fire. It ignited my hunger, setting my monstrous desires aflame. I was burning alive with what I was, brutally reminded of my fate. When she went limp against my arm, I dropped her body and wiped my mouth with my sleeve.

When I turned around, I saw the muscle shirt man starring at me in horror. When he saw I was looking at him, he turned his tail and ran down the street, screaming.

"Son of a bitch," I mumbled to myself before taking after him. This was turning into a horribly bad problem. If he told authorities, LaCroix would surely find out I disobeyed him and god-knows what would happen to me then. That is, if the police didn't call vampire hunters to kill me first. I couldn't decide which fate would be better.

I followed him almost halfway down the street before I was bombarded by cop cars. Men in blue uniforms jumped out of their cruisers by the twos and held thirty-eights to me.

"Son of a bitch!" I shouted. I ran while they fired at me, ordering me to give myself up. A bullet found its way into my arm, making me cry out in pain. A bullet to the arm was hardly anything to be worried about for a vampire. At least it wasn't in my head—that would have been a very big problem.

I slid under a sewer cover and fell down the short medal ladder leading to the top. My feet hit the ground with a hard slam, and I felt my knees buckle for a few seconds. I crouched down and inched my way towards the far end of the tunnel, and keeping an eye out for mortal law enforcement before jumping down into the ankle deep sewer water and standing up straight.

After some time of standing in front of the sewer map trying to find the right course to Ventrue Tower from where I was, I took my hand off where I got shot. Despite popular belief, vampires do still bleed after they're dead. My hand was soaked in blood, and the bullet felt like my muscles and my nerves were tangled up in a knot that one usually gets in their hair if they don't brush it for a few days. I put my hand back on and went searching for the right way out.

Surprisingly, I got very much lost in the maze of swimming rats and shin deep sewer water. I sloshed my way through until I found the correct exit, giving me a moment of happiness. I climbed up the ladder, and realized that the police had given up hunting me. I made my way back into Ventrue Tower under the shadows; not wanting to look a gift horse in the mouth by standing around like a sitting duck.

Chunk's eyes grew wide when he saw my bullet wound.

"Ouch, that looks like it hurts there." He said. Chunk hadn't gotten much older since last I saw him, except his hair was starting to disappear a little more. It was hard to notice someone's changes when you saw them every night since you met them.

"Can you get the elevator for me, please?" I asked. He nodded and summoned the elevator. I thanked him and went to the elevator. I tried to give myself as much posture as I could, trying to look as if the gunshot hadn't bothered me at all. But the twisting pain was too much and I had to crumple back over a little.

When LaCroix saw my condition, he gave me a very nasty look.

"I thought I asked you not to massacre anyone." He snapped.

"I didn't think—" I started, but he interrupted.

"No, you didn't." He snapped again. "You didn't think. You're just lucky you got out when you did, or else you could have caused the kindred of this city some very irritating problems with the law." He was only mildly angry with me; I'd been in worse trouble before. Especially when I was first handed some guns and told not to make any stupid mistakes. Well, most of my mistakes back then were stupid. "Did you, at least, take care of the ghoul?"

"She won't be saying anything about vampires ever again." I said. "Or about anything else for that matter." Even if I did get caught feeding and chased into the sewers by the police—at least I killed Patty. Despite the little bit of the beast it woke in me, it wasn't enough to cause a problem. I would make up for it later.

"That's good." He said. "At least you did something right." That hurt my feelings a little. He belittled me every chance he got, and that was mostly when I did stupid things during missions. I knew I wasn't perfect, but he didn't need to make it sound like I couldn't do anything right. I was good, better than most vampires only ten years out of life. But, I said nothing. "Now, about that bullet in your arm."

"Hospital?" I asked. I hoped to god that was the answer, but a part of me knew it wasn't. Kindred weren't allowed to go to hospitals, especially because they could take a blood sample and find our vampire chemicals. I knew what was going to happen, because it had happened to me before.

"Sheriff, would you?" LaCroix asked. I almost cried when I visioned Sheriff pulling the bullet out of my arm, like I did every time. His hands were so much bigger than my arm; it usually made the wound a lot worse. I wished I could have gone to a hospital instead.

Sheriff came to me and waited for me to take my jacket off. Sighing, I pulled my arm carefully out of the sleeve and tossed the jacket onto one of Sebastian's red leather sofa's, preparing myself for what was to come. Sheriff grabbed my arm and dug his giant fingers into the wound, searching around with his nail to find the bullet. I wailed and screamed loud enough to wake the dead, screaming,

"SON OF A BITCH!!" Over and over again until the bullet was a tiny pellet on the ground and my arm was bleeding worse than ever. Tears streamed down my face, embarrassing me. Sheriff wiped his fingers off on his jacket and went to take his place by LaCroix's desk. Sebastian stood up and handed me a roll of gauds to wrap my wounds in.

"It'll heal in a very short time, minor compared to what could have happened." He said. That was his idea of comfort, I wiped the tears from my eyes with the sleeve of my body suit and wrapped the gauds around my arm, tearing it with my teeth and sticking it together with some office tape Sebastian provided. "This should teach you not to be so careless in the future."

I didn't like calling him cruel, but sometimes I thought that he enjoyed watching me suffer after I made a pretty big fuck-up. LaCroix, by far, wasn't nice; but I didn't want to go as far as to call him cruel. I slid my jacket on and tried to put on a face that didn't hint at my inner pain.

"Feed, it'll make it heal faster." He said. I nodded and left his penthouse, wiping my eyes with my sleeve. I refused to ever cry in public; it made me stronger if I held in all my emotions best I could.

Chunk wished me a good rest of the night as I left the tower, and I wished him the same. My next objective for the night was to find a quality mortal to feed from and heal my wound.


Yes, I know that the patty thing is an Anarch quest. I just thought it might be fun to do in this scenario.