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.

3. Chapter Three

I had an email waiting for me on my desktop computer after Heather and I had just returned from visiting Mercurio at his apartment, I had to enquire him about some clips for my guns, and about what kind of new weaponry his disgruntled police contact had given him. Heather just wanted to stop by the blood bank and pick me up some blood packs; apparently I'd been running low. I bought the clips I was looking for, and Heather seemed pleased with the deal she'd gotten from the ghoul working at the blood bank. He was surprisingly, and suspiciously, friendly to her.

We got home and I replaced my empty clips with my new ones, being very proud of myself.

"It's a good thing I decided to buy some clips," I told Heather as she made herself a bowl of Cinnamon Toast Crunch to have as her dinner. Neither one of us were very good cooks and it was only ok for me because blood was all I could have anyway. I felt bad though, I wanted to be able to do something for Heather, she was such a good friend to me that I was worried that it wasn't being reciprocated. "It would have really sucked to be in the middle of a fight and—oops—no bullets. I'm not Malkavian, so I can't make myself disappear."

"Yeah, but the upside is that you've got that powerful blood strike thing, and you're not insane." She said. "Well…not clinically." I rolled my eyes and put my guns softly down on the coffee table. The last thing I needed was for one to go off accidentally and cause a riot from my fellow apartment dwellers. Again.

"I'm going upstairs for a minute," I said. "I want to grab a book." She didn't respond; she'd started eating her cereal before I even decided I wanted to read. I walked up stairs and, while searching for my Emily Dickenson poetry book, I noticed that I had an unread email. I sat down on my computer chair and checked it.

(Subject:) A job

(From:) LaCroix

I have a job waiting for you. Please come to Ventrue Tower, time permitting. There is a degree of immediacy attached to my request, so please come as soon as you're available. Do not waist my time. –SL

I rolled my eyes and changed into my work clothes. I had been wearing my 'I have no work tonight, yippee!' black skirt, black Marilyn Manson t-shirt, torn fishnet panty hoes, and my boots. But thanks to LaCroix, I had to change into my leather bodysuit, spiky knuckled gloves, and trench coat. My boots were the only things that stayed constant.

Heather looked at me when I came back downstairs, and a look of minor sadness crossed her face.

"Work?" She asked. I nodded.

"Yeah, LaCroix e-mailed me and said he had a job he wanted me to do. I'm heading over now to see what it is. With any luck it won't take forever." I said. I grabbed my guns from off the table and stuck them into the holsters I had around my thighs. "See you later, Heather." And I was gone.

All the way to Ventrue Tower, I wondered what the job could be. I assumed it was something like my usual kind of work, fighting off Sabbat or punishing masquerade breakers. All I knew for sure about my job was that Sebastian was going to belittle me if I make even one tiny mistake. I hated that, and wondered how long it would take before I couldn't take it anymore and told that baby-face prince off. It was sure tempting.

He was sitting at his desk, as usual. He seemed to be working on business papers, as usual, and Sheriff stood beside his desk, as usual. Everything was as usual in the LaCroix penthouse office. I was a little jealous, I wanted to be having an average night with my average ghoul friend and not doing work for the prince. But, what choice did I have?

"It's good you finally arrived," He said. He sounded mildly annoyed, as if I'd taken my sweet time getting there. I swallowed my need to slam my fists on the table and say that I got there as soon as I could, but I didn't. I just maintained my poise and kept up my natural façade. "About the job I have lined up for you, there is a warehouse—just outside the downtown area—being used by the Sabbat. I need you to go to Santa Monica and meet with Mercurio about an item known as Astrolite, and use that to blow up the warehouse."

"Oh my god," I said. He looked at me with a questioning look. "You couldn't have told me an hour ago when I was in Santa Monica?" He starred at me in silence for a little bit. If I could make an estimate, I'd say about a minute and a half of silent starring.

"The car is waiting." He said. I nodded and left. He went back to his paperwork as if I'd never been there, and I went to see Mercurio for the second time that night.

The driver of the cab sat inside his yellow transport vehicle as he always did, with his dark sunglasses hiding his eyes.

"Where to?" He asked me.

"Santa Monica, again," I said as I climbed into the back seat. He began his drive almost immediately after the backdoor shut, and I sat there for almost an hour watching the cars around the yellow cab go by. Several old models but numerous newer ones. None older than maybe late eighties, but I couldn't say for sure. Cars weren't really my thing.

We reached Santa Monica, I told the cab driver to put my fare on the Prince's tab, just as usual. I walked through the dark and seedy back allies to Main Street, where Mercurio's apartment was in sight. I went across the street and noticed pools of blood leading from the sidewalk to the inside of the building. I pushed the door open and followed the trail of blood to apartment Four, Mercurio's apartment.

I opened his door and saw him sprawled out on his sofa, bleeding from nearly every pore in his body, and generally looking like he'd been through hell very recently.

"Is it really that possible to get so beat up after two and a half hours?" I asked him. My question caused him to lift his head pitifully and look at me. I smiled at him, and he did his best to smile back at me. But it looked like a painful facial expression for him to make.

"Well, what do you know? Didn't I just see you?" He asked. "Well, you have no control over when LaCroix wants you to do shit. He called me a little after you left, said he wanted you to pick up, and plant some, astrolite. Unfortunately I don't have any."

"Does it happen to have anything to do with your hellish appearance?" I asked. He nodded as best he could.

"I tried to buy some off a guy at this beach house in town, asshole ripped me off and had his guys beat the hell out of me." He said. After that he noticed one of his injuries and started to freak out. "Is that…? Oh god! Is that my rib? My rip is freakin' poking out of place!"

"Do you want me to go get the astrolite?" I asked.

"My money too." He added. I nodded and as I was leaving, I heard him add, "Give em hell!"

It wasn't the first time I'd gone to the beach in Santa Monica; in fact, it was one of the key places I liked to visit when I had the chance. I went into the parking garage and descended the almost hidden flight of stairs to a stone-and-brick tunnel. It sloped and turned to the right, opening up to the beach. I saw the group of thin bloods, circled around a campfire and listening to what sounded like Rob Zombie. I approached them and without trying, was given their full attention.

"Through that chain link fence and up those stairs." She said. "But don't go. I see a man in a tuxedo—and a box. A box filled with fire—oh god! Oh god! Don't open it! Don't open the box!" She mumbled. She seemed to be freaking about. "I—I see blond hair…dark center…greedy eyes." I tried to decipher what she was saying, but she wouldn't say anything more after that. "Never mind, forget what I said." And insisted that I do what I wanted. I nodded and went to the chain link fence, trying to figure out what she meant by what she'd been saying.

I climbed the fire-escape like stairs with my guns close. I didn't have them drawn in case I would be able to persuade them into letting me into the house without any trouble, but if I needed to intimidate—then they were there for that. I saw a strong looking shirtless guy standing outside a paint peeling picket fence with his arms crossed.

Very carefully, I approached the man. He gave me a funny look, as if he were ready to try and kick my ass. Despite what my nerves were saying, I didn't overreact and shoot him immediately, I liked my skin enough to not want to get shot again. God forbid it be Sheriff who had to take the bullet out.

"Can I help you?" He asked. He sounded like he was halfway between cautious and angry. I smiled as politely as I could, given the circumstances, and did my best to talk my way past the guard and into the house.

"Yeah, I need some…stuff." I said. "I heard I can get some here." The guy thought about it, but didn't believe me.

"You a cop?" he asked. I shook my head.

"If I was, I think I would have been fired by now. Or arrested, depends on the situation." I said. I felt it was a nice touch to add that I would have been fired or arrested, and when he allowed me to go through; I saw that it was a good thing to say.

The house looked even more run down inside than it did outside. Wallpaper was peeling, couches had rips in the cushions, and mortals in brown hooded jackets stood around talking and watching television. A pair of hooded mortals were even playing cards in the kitchen.

I went into the back room and saw two guys standing around some chemicals. I spotted the Astrolite on an uneven table behind a guy who looked to be the leader. He looked tough, but not too tough for my beautiful guns to take care of. He was a mortal, anyway, and they were easier to take down with a gun than vampires and definitely easier to kill with a gun than werewolves.

"Well, look at that. I love this business! I don't even need to call for women to come knockin' at my door." He said. "What can I do for you?"

"I'm looking for certain…products." I said. "Astrolite?" He raised his eyebrow at me, looking either amused or surprised—I couldn't quite tell.

"Really now?" He asked. "I just find that kind of odd, because that's not usually a popular item—but you're not the first to come looking for it. I have to wonder…why?"

"Coincidence," I said, placing the palm of my hands on the outside of my trench coat, feeling the pistols underneath.

"I don't believe in coincidences." He said. "Why do you need it?"

"That's for me to know, and you to find out." I said. It didn't sound that threatening to me, but before I knew it he'd pulled a gun on me and was threatening to kill me if I didn't leave. Naturally, I did what any Tremere would do in my situation; I used blood strike on the other guy in the room and drank the blood of the leader. When he was dead I grabbed the Astrolite. I busted a window open and dove out through that. I figured that running out into a building full of people shooting guns at me with a bomb in my hands wasn't the smartest thing to do.

Despite my attempt to avoid gunfire, I ended up being shot at anyway. I fired back with one of my pistols, my other arm holding the bomb safely out of the line of fire. I wasn't in the mood to be blown up that night, I just wasn't. I kicked a picket fence out of the way and crawled on my stomach between the gab. Bullets flew over head and at my sides as I made a mad dash for the beach, jumping from the fire-escape like stairs and landing in the water with a mighty splash.

I got to shore and checked the bomb, it seemed to be OK. As nervous as I was about it being ruined by the ocean water, I didn't linger on the beach long. I ran from the beach and to Main Street where I assumed I'd be safe. At least there, if they fired their guns at me, the police would be on my side and save me. Hopefully, anyway.

Mercurio was waiting for me in the exact place where I'd left him. Blood was pooling around him on his green sofa, and dripping onto the little puddle growing on the couch's side. I felt bad for him, and wanted to help him. He saw me walk into his apartment, and he smiled at me.

"I see you got the Astrolite." He said. I nodded.

"But I dove into the ocean with it, is it ok?" I asked. He had me hand him the Astrolite and he looked it over. He put it on the ground and nodded.

"Seems fine, no major damage." He said. "Should still make a pretty big-ass boom." I was glad about that. I didn't want to get on LaCroix's bad side because I wasn't able to talk my way into getting the explosives. More importantly, I didn't want Mercurio to get on LaCroix's bad side for not getting the explosives himself. But, since all was still well, neither one of us had to worry about Sebastian ever knowing about what happened. "Now, you'll want to be on the other side of the world when that thing goes off or else you'll burn up like a match in a camp fire."

"OK, now, where's the warehouse?"


I thought that would be a good place to end it. Agree?