You know, I'm so desperate for reviews right now....sob.

Update: I split chapter one into two pieces to make it easier to read, so things have changed.

I wish I knew how to reply in the review area. Oh well. thanks for the review and tip Mary. Sorry about the LaCroix blunder, I guess my old French lessons had me automatically seeing Le cos he's a guy (but I guess crosses are feminine in French?). Btw, looking this up I found there is a French newspaper called La Croix. Who knew? Anyway, can't be bothered to change past stuff right now, but will change for future chapters.

When I showed up Larry's reaction seemed caught halfway between repulsion and delight.

"Now that's what Ah'm talkin' about. Gi' that right here, baby-girl." His eyes gleamed as I held up the briefcase. I did notice however that as soon as he had it, he edged away from me, staring in fascination at something in my hair.

"Uh, girl, Ah think you got a tooth or something in there," he turned and rummaged in the van, surfacing with a towel. "here y' go, baby. Use dat to wipe off: on tha' house."

I took the towel: it was purple, with Lakers emblazoned on it in gold. Hurriedly I wiped my face and hair, noticing as I did so that my t-shirt was again in tatters. Larry followed my eyes and rummaged again, bringing up a black t-shirt with little gold crowns all over it.

"Black seems t' be your colour, honey." He winked and tossed it to me. Briefly I considered ducking into the alley to change, then remembered his mirror and thought, fuck it. I whipped the playboy t-shirt off and used its rags to get more of the blood off. When I dropped it and the towel, they were both sodden, with specs of gore peppering them.

Larry was looking as if he didn't know whether to be stunned or leering.

"What time is it?" I asked brusquely.

"Ah, uh? One twenty five, yeah, one thirty." He seemed a little flustered.

"I'd better hurry: that sword you gave me broke," I stated matter of factly, "Can I get a better one this time? And my money." I added.

"Yeah, yeah, sure thing baby-girl. Here you go, you earned it. You one righteous babe, Ms. Jones." Larry peeled off a stack of bills from a wad and handed them to me, before diving back into his van stock. This time the sword he pulled out looked a lot more brutally efficient. Still Japanese in style, but the blade and hilt were battered and dull, and there were dark brown stains in the webbing of the hilt. This sword had killed people. I took it almost reverently. It fitted snugly in my back sheath, but happily the hilt was shorter and less inclined to bang me in the back of the head.

I knew I should be heading over to the Last Round but there was one last thing I wanted.

"Ipod, do you have an ipod?" I asked hopefully. More rummaging on Larry's part produced an ipod shuffle. I took it, ignoring Larry's murmurs about breaking the bank.

"Thanks for everything Larry." I smiled.

"Hold on one second there, baby." Larry pointed over to the glowing red cathedral club. "Hot mama name o' Venus owns that place. She tol' me she need muscle to clear a problem. Check it out if you be wanting more cash money."

I nodded, and walked into the alleyway. I was a bit worried about being late for my first fighting lesson, although a small voice whispered inside: do I really need one after tonight? I started to jog along the deserted streets, trying to keep my pace human speed. The ipod turned out to be stuffed with hip-hop. I tried to remember seeing a computer in the Last Round, but the atmosphere there had struck me as a little technophobe. I quickened my pace until I was sprinting, and then careened to a sudden stop as the bar came into view ahead of me. Still feeling very rushed, I pulled open the door and walked inside.

The bar was busier than the night before, and the faces which glanced up at my entry decidedly unfriendly. Trying to give the impression of more confidence than I felt, I started to push my way through to the back. Since the press of bodies were all taller than me, I couldn't tell if Jack was lingering in his corner. As I pushed past people I heard the muttering get angrier, until suddenly I saw the snarl of fangs out of a shadowed face and a large man blocked my way. He had pale skin, lots of bushy hair, and a beard that made him look a little like Che Guevara. Combat pants, sleeveless t-shirt, corded muscles on his wiry arms. His large hands were flexing and unflexing into fists as he faced me.

"Out now, bitch." He pointed at the door I'd come in from. I could feel the crowd making a space around us. A little voice inside me sobbed: why can't anything be easy?

I shook my head. "I have an appointment with Rodriguez."

He snarled in my face. "Cam comes in here stinking of blood after rampaging like some Sabbat motherfucker – breaking the Masquerade on our turf – and wants to rap with the main man? Uh uh."

"Rampage? What are you talking about?" I tried to run my fingers through my hair but it was still stiff with dried blood. "Oh, that. It was a job: gang stuff….I swear I didn't break the Masquerade, honest!" I had to shout above the music, but there was no other conversation. The crowd of vampires watched our little interaction with rapt attention. My mind buzzing at full speed, I realised I probably had broken the Masquerade. But they were all gang people: who would believe them?

"Lying bitch! Don't pretend LeCroix aint using you to set us up!"

My opponent closed the gap between us with a movement faster than my eye could see. One moment he was several feet away, the next he was looming right over me, pulling his fist back for a strike. Before I could react, he punched me in the solar plexus, sending me flying. I collided with someone behind me, and was immediately pushed back into the circle. Stunned and in awe of how hard other vampires could hit, I knelt there, expecting a boot in my ribs any second.

"Woah, woah, I leave for two minutes and come back to this? What the fuck d' you think you're doin' Mike?"

I sagged with relief at the sound of Jack's voice. Looking up I could see the vamp he'd named Mike standing in front of me. Jack was by my side in a second: the crowd made way for him, and seemed anxious to avoid eye contact. He hauled me to my feet and gave me a wry look.

"Kiddo, I know I aint one to talk, but your hygiene leaves somethin' to be desired."

Made speechless by the whole situation, I just stood there gasping like a fish out of water. My stomach hurt where Mike had punched me, but I was happy to see that he was backing off, acting almost deferentially towards Jack.

"Better be a good explanation for this." I heard Rodriguez' dark calm voice and immediately the entire bar froze, attention directed towards the stairs. Nines was standing midway, flanked by Skelter and Damsel. He surveyed the room slowly, gaze taking in the scenario. Lastly his eyes lighted on me, and he shook his head mockingly.

"Should've known you'd be right in the middle, Trouble." He raised his voice so that he spoke to the crowd as well as me. "So you all know: start shit round here, you get put down. Same for everyone." His eyes flashed at Mike, who shuffled his feet and looked embarrassed. "This bar equals Elysium: you wanna kill each other; take it outside." He beckoned me over. I glanced at Jack. He nodded and I darted over to the stairs, feeling a bit like a mouse under the stare of many cats.

Rodriguez smiled grimly down at me. "You're young and stupid newbie, so I won't make an example of you; but next time? Don't track blood to my door." I sensed he was still speaking to the crowd as much as me, that were was an undertone of meaning I wasn't quite getting. As I reached him, he turned aside to let me through and indicated with a jerk of his head for me to go past. I did so, half running, half stumbling up the rest of the stairs. I didn't stop until I'd cleared the next flight of steps up to the roof, gulping down fresh night air. I could hear the music faintly below, and the sound of footsteps behind me.

I turned and backed away, kicking up gravel from the roof, as Rodriguez came out of the stairwell.
"Sorry, sorry, sorry," I was practically grovelling, "I didn't know: it was just a job for this dude, and I was in a hurry." I pulled at my t-shirt, "He sells shirts and weapons and stuff." I finished lamely, and hid my face in my palm.

I heard his sigh. "Kid, I don't got time to lay down the rules right now, but it surprises me Jack didn't already tell you this shit."

I looked up at him, feeling horrible pangs of guilt. "He prob'ly did; I just seem to be a bit ADD when it comes to learning all this. I really am sorry," I bit my lower lip anxiously, "you and Jack have been awesome and I wouldn't want to mess things up for you."

He raised an eyebrow and then ran his palm up and down the back of head, musing. This was a gesture I would come to know well. Finally he shrugged.

"Fuck it, it's all good. You'll either learn or die. Let's teach you some goddamn survival skills."

So I spent the next hour learning how to make a proper fist (thumbs outside, and bent tight!), and then learning how to put my body weight behind my punches. It was pretty frustrating, because he was insanely fast, and I found myself missing every time. Reminded forcibly about the difference between fighting true vampires and mere humans, I knew that if this had been a real fight I would've been dead within the first minute.

After about the fiftieth time of me trying to punch him and ending up sprawling against the stairwell door, he stopped and frowned at the skyline.

"Night's near over. Time to stop." He helped me up and fixed me with that brilliant silver stare of his. "Kid, look, I still don't know your name."

I averted my gaze, trying not to look shifty. "Cleo." I said, struck by strange inspiration, "Cleopatra Jones."

Rodriguez did a double take and then laughed in my face. "You even old enough to know that movie?" he asked, cuffing me lightly on the side of the head in a friendly way. "Try again, newb. Your real name."

Again with the memory shit! I clenched my hands in a gesture of pure futility and frustration.

"I don't remember ok!" I spat belligerently. "I don't remember anything really from before that Tremere douche embraced me! I don't know my name, I don't know where I'm from, I'm just completely clueless!" Thinking about that night made me well up, a tight knot of anguish closing my throat.

If Rodriguez was disturbed by my outburst, he didn't show it. He looked me up and down and then folded his arms, that same sense of catlike calm radiating off him.

"Well, Kine past don't mean much to vamps anyways. Only Ventrue care about pedigree. It's strange you don't remember shit, but you're Tremere: that's a fucking weird ass clan. They guard their blood secrets tight." His face broke into a grin, "Hell, you go by Cleo now, who's to care? If y' knew the movie you'd know why I'm laughing, but it'll do."

Feeling a little insulted, I prepared to leave. As I opened the door to the stairs, he unfolded his arms and wagged an admonishing finger at me.

"Same time tomorrow. Don't make me come looking for you, and stay out of trouble." This last was spoken with heavy emphasis, and I tried to burn it into my psyche as I tripped down the stairs.

Damsel growled at me again as I made my way downstairs, but other than that, the clientele of the Last Round seemed to have decided I was off-limits to aggression.

By the time I made it onto the street there were signs of dawn in the east: the opalescent sky eerie against the dark of the buildings and the pixie glow of the street lights. I hurried through empty streets to my 'haven', which, bare metal as it was, suddenly seemed very appealing.

Wriggling along my dusty metal tunnels, I found the spot where no light came, and curled up for the night. As I tried to get to sleep, a low beeping began to impinge on my consciousness. My phone! Trying not to bang about too much, I dragged out LeCroix's phone and saw that I had voice mail. I didn't remember him giving me a password for it, but somehow he had it set up so that it came on as soon as I opened the phone.

"Come to my office tomorrow night before midnight. I have a task which I hope shall be within your…limitations. Goodnight." He didn't say his name, he didn't have to. I recognised LeCroix's smooth silky voice from the Venture office. Too tired to think about the future much, I fell asleep.