I am the freak in control not a control freak. I am the sheep that got away. - Wreak Havoc by Angelspit

AN: WARNING! Serious Nines Rodriguez bashing. I hate the bastard so… it could get ugly.


"With what?" The tiny, blond, version of Alessa from Silent Hill inquired.

She patted the blood soaked couch she sat on, beckoning Christian over. He did as she insisted, sitting down to find that she was watching Resident Evil: Apocalypse, undoubtedly for inspiration. He felt sorry for the unconscious bastard on her coffee table. He remained distracted by these things for only a few moments before he came to understand that what he came to speak to her about was very likely to be important.

" I assume you've heard about Diana?"

"Bach's little soldier? LaCroix's new plaything? Oh yes, I've heard!" She chuckled like an innocent child once again, voice still poisoned with her Tzimisce nature.

"I was wondering if you would be interested in helping her out.." Christian leaned back on the couch, letting out a sight of relief to find it was dry.

"What would I get for it?"

"Its as simple as that?" Christian looked at her disbelievingly.

"I know it will be interesting! She seems like the kind of girl that doesn't want to be walked on, and LaCroix seems like the kind of guy who couldn't tolerate a headstrong woman. I get the feeling you're trying to get him attracted to her by giving her the keys to the kingdom… Like Reynard."

"What?" Christian leaned in, surprised that Claudia might know anything about Reynard and what he might have been doing.

" He gave her Bedlam so that she would have her own stronghold. He made calls to get people to LA that would help her. He didn't want her to get controlled by LaCroix. On the contrary, he wanted her to control LaCroix. Soon enough, she'll have the prophetic eyes of Ophelia, the strong arm, quick blade, and rapid fire of Ophelia's sister Imelda, and you want her to have my creations at her disposal? That's enough to get LaCroix to cry like a baby desperate for a feeding! There's not a single Kuei-Jin, Anarch, or Sabbat dumb-shit with power like mine!"

"You put too much faith in your creations, Claudia."

"Oh no, Christian. It is you who puts too little faith in them. I am not a clumsy, blood bonded Tzimisce like my brethren! I know what it is to perfect vicissitude. Look at my beautiful creations! Perfect representations from the minds of Kine!" She motioned around her.

Christian would hardly call the Tyrant, three fingered ultra-zombie from Resident Evil, beautiful. Nor would he consider Pyramid Head from Silent Hill quite the looker as it stood far back in the shadows. The nurses were another thing, though he thought he saw blinking lights in all of their sides.

"Are those…bombs?"

"Yes! I call them Nurse Grenades! Haven't had a need for them yet, but by the sounds of things, I will," she smiled confidently.

"Now..what is it that you want in exchange for helping Diana?"

" I want every Resident Evil game and their consoles, Every Silent Hill game, Left 4 Dead, and the Resident Evil movies. I have this one rented out!" She pointed to her television.

"How did you manage that with your appearance?"

"Pay-per-View."

The woman by the name of Imelda had recently arrived in LA, just as Claudia had said. She made her current hang-out at the Last Round. She was beginning to wear of it, even if she considered herself an Anarch. As if to keep up an appearance, she sat on the second floor of the smelly bar with a glass of water that she twisted around in her hand. She didn't think she could take another second of Nines Rodriguez and his shit talk. Not only was it annoying, but he didn't have the guts to say it to the subject's face.

Where she came from, the Anarch Free State of Seattle, they told their enemies exactly what they thought of them…at least she did, anyway. She tried to distract herself by accessing her email on her cell phone, which she used almost singularly for such a purpose. A new message bore the title Witch-Goddess, and she decided that she would look at it after examining a message from Reynard.

Imelda

By the time you receive this email, I am surely on my way to Final Death. When the time smiles on you, hopefully soon, I would like for you to come to LA. If you request pay for what I am about to ask, you may find it beneath the lowest bar shelf at Bedlam, assuming Diana doesn't rip it up too much during remodeling.

You are strong beyond your years, wiser than any Gangrel I have ever known. I ask that you guide and fight for the Ventrue Fledgling by the name of Adelle 'Diana' LaCroix. She will need you and anyone else she can get on her side in the coming nights, and I pray that Caine finds it in his blood to give her more aid than what I have managed to provide. I fear Dylan will be of no aid to her, poisoned with a believed betrayal between the two. Doubtless that he will work for LaCroix and despise it if only for the fact that he must gaze upon Diana each time he returns to the tower..

I will never forget you, Imelda. Thank you for everything you taught me.

If she could cry, she might have as she read over it again. Reynard's words proved to be enough of a distraction from Nines Rodriguez, but she couldn't overlook the new message. Something about it told her that she had to open it soon.

Sister

I see you at the place of Rebels and Whiskey. Tonight I bring with me the Witch-Goddess, and when we come we are to discuss our musketry! Four shall bare arms for the White Queen and defend. Twisted Hilt, please do not be offending by my new speech! The Witch-Goddess seems to understand me, and I hope you shall see through my madness.

The Copy Cat and all her creations come by the heralding sagging pants!

Imelda looked over toward the stairs, confused but intrigued by the message. She had only one person in her life whom she would still consider a sister in unlife, and that was her true sister. Ophelia had gone missing after she was claimed by a Malkavian, and Imelda didn't doubt that her practically identical twin had the potential to reach LA.

She waited, once more being consumed by the annoying voices of the LA Anarchs. Vulgar and impolite as they seemed to always be, she thought she heard her name come up in the conversation. It was enough to cause her to strike out, slamming her palm down upon the shot glass, shattering it on the already splintered tabletop.

"What's your fucking problem?" The one called Damsel snapped at her.

Imelda assumed she was a Brujah, gifted with brute strength and unnamed passion for whatever she could grab a hold of it. Only True Brujah had managed to gather a shred of Imelda's respect in days before, and she could feel that LA Brujah would not gain any at all.

"Is this what you do all night? Sit and complain about how terrible the Camarilla is?" Imelda shook her head, pushing her hair back over her shoulders," Because its no wonder Anarchs aren't given any deserved respect in this city. You people sound like you're in drunken rage more than anything. No one's gonna take you seriously. If you really want recognition, why don't you go out there and do something rather than stew in your rage. Pitiful bunch, you are!"

"Who the fuck are you anyway? You ain't got the right to talk to us like that!" Damsel returned

"Oh yeah? I don't have the right? Fuckin prove it, you little shit. I will wipe the floor with your face in thirty goddamn seconds if that's how you wanna play."

Imelda stood quickly, moving her hand within her coat in order to remove a 9 millimeter handgun. She grinned at those that looked at her, almost beckoning them into the fray.

"Now look, we don't want to fight. Put your gun away, and we'll go downstairs if it bother's you so much."

She was surprised to hear this from Nines Rodriguez. He was either afraid of her, or simply not in the mood to take on a fellow Anarch. She had slight respect for him, but something in his tone of voice still left her uneasy. She didn't like him, and it was a matter of instinct. She doubted that he would ever earn her respect or even loyalty.. Hell, she might wind up Camarilla in LA.

As she returned her gun to its holster, Imelda's eyes landed upon a familiar figure coming up the stairs. It was her dear sister, who responded to her shock with a smile. Behind her was Rebecca, who appeared to simply be along for the ride. Ophelia approached her sister quietly, enveloping her in a delighted hug. It was returned. The girls once shared everything, and it now included the Curse of the Damned.

"Ophelia!" Imelda sighed happily.

"Good to see sights of you, Twisted Hilt! The Witch-Queen is here too!"

The so called Witch-Queen merely nodded," My name is Rebecca. Good to meet you….?"

"Imelda."

"Very well, Imelda. Ophelia seems to think that the three of us, and one other, will have to fight for and protect a young Ventrue by the name--"

"Of Adelle? Or maybe Diana? A close friend asked me to watch over her," Imelda interrupted the former regent.

" Then I suppose the lot of us really are going to be taking care of her.."

They spent their night discussing Ophelia's visions, particularly of the one that was told in such great detail, but in such whispers, that Imelda would never forget it. She believed the night was possible. She could see it just as her sister did, and she didn't even know those involved.

"He WILL NOT be Executed! I won't have it!"

"That decision doesn't lay with you, Diana," Nines Rodriguez scolded.

In a large circle sat the powers of LA, apparently in LaCroix's office. He was the only one not present out of the Primogen and leaders of the Anarchs. Diana sat at the gold polished desk, fist having pounded the wood with tremendous ferocity and anger with her fellow Kindred.

"And who does it lay with? You? Does everything lay with you, Mr. Rodriguez? Who do you really think you are, pullin up your pants and sticking your nose in the air like you're better than the rest of us? Fuck you, Mr. Rodriguez! I don't give a damn about your ideals! I don't give a damn if you want to see my husband burn, or his head roll, or whatever you want! You're too inhuman to understand what we had. Every single one of you can go to hell if you think I'm gonna let him die just like that, like I never cared about him!"

"Diana, please. Calm down," Strauss urged, but it was to no avail.

"I will not calm down! Get out! Get out of here, all of you! Obviously, my opinion on this matter isn't important because I will ALWAYS oppose you."

"You can't just-"

"Bull shit, I own this God damn tower now! Its in my rights to kick you out of my Elysium!"

She seemed so angry and helpless.. Poor woman.

She wasn't so angry as she drove home from her session with the designers responsible for Bedlam's renovation. Indeed, she might have been in a good mood, if not from an email she received from Isaac during the meeting. She felt it was badly timed, and she didn't feel she had the time to do what he asked. Visit.

Diana

We need to talk. It seems that you've been dragged in on the wrong side of the fence, and I plan on bailing you out. Come to Hollywood when you get the chance; I don't feel an email is the appropriate outlet for what I need to say to you.

That didn't sound very comforting, and she couldn't help but reflect on it as she pulled into her parking spot. She scarcely remembered to lock the door as she made her trek to the Tower from the Parking Garage. It was a long walk, she surmised. Perhaps taking the taxi would rid her of the whole deal. Its not like she needed the exercise. She didn't even bother to ask for the security guard to call the elevator down. He had likely fallen into the habit of buzzing her up without question. Thankfully, he had.

She didn't want to see LaCroix that night. No, not after the previous night. No matter how she convinced herself to feel, she could still see herself in his arms. Maybe not safe, maybe not warm, but with him. It was a dream, an irresponsible and impossible dream; she knew that. However, that may have been what made the relationship so appealing to her: the challenge, the control, the differences.

In all honesty, she didn't really want to think about LaCroix. She wanted to wait for the sun to rise and to simply sink into sleep as if he never entered her thoughts. She wanted a simple night, not strange conflicts in her heart or her mind. As she pondered on her future, she couldn't help but wonder if she would ever see a simple night. Too bad that she wouldn't get such a night as she approached her room.

Upon first entering the spacious room, nothing felt wrong. She threw her bag onto the bed without closing the door behind her, and as she turned to close it, she saw someone pushing it closed from behind it. LaCroix stood there, seemingly intent on speaking with her. Diana didn't like this at all.

"What are you doing in my room?"