Author(s) Warning: If you have a sensitive stomach, what the hell are you doing here? Seriously though folks, if you're not a fan of Spartacus: Blood and Sand, or any show that has an overabundance of gore, blood, and dismemberment, you might want to turn away now. This one is going to get messy.

Chapter 12: The Main Event

"Are you not entertained?!" Familiar words for anyone who grew up with the cult classics such as Gladiator, the Last Samurai, and A Knight's Tale, just to name a few, like I did. And while the quote in question came from the first movie on that list, all of them are about warriors of old, fighting for similar ideas with varying results, but all of them are memorable because they gave it their all, sometimes to their last breath. It's the first I want to draw your attention to however, because as I think I hinted at last time, the Main Event is decidedly more roman than medieval or japanese in its style. That said, at least the romans understood the need to treat their slave warriors with a bit more respect. On the other hand, most romans that actively participated in the training and sponsoring of their gladiators weren't vampires most likely, but I could be wrong. That's not to say we didn't have a hand in the gladiatorial games, just that I'm a firm believer in that we let the humans do all the hard work while we reaped the rewards.

As for myself, who knew I'd see my first romanesque styled gladiatorial match after being made into a vampire, but my life is weird like that anymore. That said, what I saw that night is not something I'll likely ever forget, because it just proved something I've come to accept as fact, even after leaving the Setites far behind. The Camarilla are sadistic fucktards. The Sabbat mind you, are many times worse, but at least they're honest about their cravings for blood and dismemberment, regardless if it's Anarch, Camarilla, or Kuei Jin. I still wouldn't shake hands with a Sabbat by any means, and expect to walk away without taking their hands with me before ripping their hearts out of their chest, but what I was introduced to when I stepped into that underground ring shocked and horrified me in a way that I wasn't prepared for, and this coming from someone that had already been through two Revelations in this point of my life.

As for why any ghoul would agree to this insanity, this bloodsport put together for the sick enjoyment of the less civilized among the Kindred in the first place, let me remind you most ghouls are so hopelessly addicted to the blood in our veins that they would do anything to have their next dose. If they have to tear apart another human being to have more of our precious blood, they'll ask their vampiric overlords how they want their opponent to die in the ring, as well as if they want any trophies from their slain enemy. Again, that's likely an exaggeration, although it wouldn't surprise me if it were true in some parts of the world, but my point stands the same. In either event, I've since made it a point to stay as far away from the underground, vampire ran fighting arenas as I possibly can. Once was more than enough for me thank you very much.

I will say this for the Main Event, despite the derogatory nature of the 'games', some Kindred go out of their way to take care of their ghouls in every way the romans once did. Top training, fame, at least among the Camarilla, wealth, women, men, Kindred blood, whatever their prize fighters wanted or needed, they provided. Even the Embrace wasn't off the table, provided they did well enough, but that gift wasn't usually given since a healthy ghoul can live damn near forever if they're given their dose of vampire blood on a regular basis. All their prized ghouls needed to do was win, and keep bringing in the money and respect all Kindred in this line of 'business' always want. As for where this particular arena was located, you wouldn't believe me if I told you. It was appropriately underground, as you'd expect, but you'd never think to look for an entrance to a highly illegal fight club there.

Taking a ferry ride out to Liberty Island per my priestess's instructions was just the tip of that night's surprises. I told you you wouldn't believe me. I certainly wouldn't have imagined that there was anything like this underneath Lady Liberty herself, but the Nosferatu love their little jokes and their twisted ideas of 'poetic justice'. With that in mind, what better way to give a giant 'fuck you' to the American ideals of peace, liberty, and freedom, than to hold deathmatches deep beneath the island. And if you've guessed that the Nosferatu that Taweret had been talking to was the man in charge of the games being held, you'd be right on the money. She had been securing my invitation by calling in a debt owed by that same Nosferatu.

Apparently, finding people to fight for the pleasure of Kindred society isn't as easy as you'd imagine, and since the Nos can't be seen in public without violating the Masquerade every which way, it's only natural that those that hold such competitions seek out the Setites to help them fill the fighting pits. Some Nos own their own ghoul fighters naturally, but by and large they keep pits filled to bursting for newcomers or returning customers to the underground arenas, just as the romans of old kept slaves and head hunted the warriors and potential fighters out of the bunch. All you need to purchase your own ghoul fighter is a suitcase full of greenbacks, and most pit owners won't ask questions. As if that wasn't bad enough, in some places of the world, you don't even need money to buy yourself a healthy cadre of slave warriors. Some places accept blood in place of money, for those same slave pens so the newly caught and caged can be made addicted to our blood that much quicker.

That said, the Kindred also share another similarity with the romans, and that was their love for one sided slaughters. The opening fights were often purposely arranged so that the conclusion was already foregone, and the people involved knew it upon stepping into the ring. They'd still fight to the last more times than not, but more often than not, their opponent or opponents were far above their ability to handle, or they were a Kindred looking to rev up their fellows by dismembering a hapless moron or two that had seen too much, or was far more often the case, just because they could. When it comes to the mortals of the world, the Camarilla could give a damn, and there are always people that can be found that no one will miss if they were to disappear without a trace.

For those few Kindred, like me, that actually care, this kind of setting is Hell. But in typical Camarilla fashion, the arenas are usually Elysium zones, meaning no Kindred can kill each other without paying the price. Those humans unfortunate enough to be there as the 'entertainment' or the 'drinks', don't often walk out however. If they do make it through the night, they have to go through the ordeal all over again until the 'games' are over for the season. And you were wondering why I never returned to the Main Event. There's all the reason you need right there. But you want details, not just me ranting. Fine, but don't expect me to like it.

As shouldn't be surprising by now, once I stepped off the boat and onto Liberty Island, I was directed to head inside the statue itself by a human security guard that took one look at me and my invitation I presented him before he waved me forward without a word. Some people are smart enough not to ask questions when they get a bonus in their paychecks, so long as they ignore us coming and going. While I wasn't the only one that stepped off the boat for the same reason, I was one of the few Toreadors in attendance. I don't know if that's because I just didn't show up on a night when more of my own clan would have been in attendance or if we're just 'better' than the rest, and avoid the Main Event like the pestilence it is, all I can say is that even the 'humane' Toreador that I did see in the crowd acted just as barbaric as the rest of them.

The long elevator ride down to the depths of the world, or so it seemed like to me at the time, was not something I'd recommend. I half expected the dozen or so other people, all Kindred, to call me out on being Setite before dusting me right there in the elevator, but that didn't happen and as I said before, we were nearing an Elysium zone anyway. That and as I've also said before, Setites might be hated but in places like the arenas, we're needed, so we're tolerated if nothing else. That and I wasn't wearing a giant neon sign or anything that declared to them what I was or who I represented, so that helped I imagine, but the fear remained all the same. For all they knew I was a returning participant or a first time arrival, either way I was welcomed until I proved otherwise. When I had started to relax, I couldn't help but notice there was an excited charge to the air despite the close quarters, but one man's excitement is another man's nightmare. Whatever the case, the bounce in my fellow Kindred's step were all too easy to see as we inexorably drew closer to our destination.

Despite the fact the Main Event is a Kindred gathering, there's no formal dress code or adherence to some long winded tradition. That said, I still felt like I was sticking out like a sore thumb among my plain clothed fellows despite the fact I too was dressed for the occasion in a pair of blue jeans, a gray short sleeve, and a black leather jacket. I had gone for more of a punk look I guess, just without the heavy use of black eyeliner and mascara. My old ammo belt, the submachine gun, and my Desert Eagle, with their respective boxes of ammo and clips, were tucked about my person on the off chance I had to shoot my way out, but I was told I wouldn't have to worry so long as I didn't draw the wrong kind of attention to myself. Easier said than done, as I was about to find out.

The loud, thumping music, I had expected. This was supposed to be a mockery of roman gladiator games after all, so why not turn it into a rave while they were at it? It was the smell of sweat, blood, and emotions cranked up to eleven that caught me off guard however as the elevator doors opened, and we were allowed into the main foyer. A rave I could handle, after some adjustment, mainly because I had been given time to make the transition before the crowd had parted and we'd been allowed into the party being held. Going into this place via elevator however, was not a good way for a fledgling like me to get used to what was waiting for me, so that was already a strike against the Main Event.

Imagine going from your average living room, nothing unusual or outstanding, just it's a room and you recognize it well enough from sight, smell, whatever. Then imagine that you step outside, and all you can see, smell, and hear is a blood crazed group of freaks on every side. That's the best way I can describe what assaulted my senses as I was all but shoved out of the elevator by my fellow Kindred who were all too eager to see some hapless ghoul get his teeth kicked in for their sick entertainment. To make matters worse, my damn coat about got stuck in the elevator door when they started to shut behind me, but I avoided that potential disaster by the skin of my teeth as I moved away….only to about run into a Ventrue pretty boy that took one look at me and wiggled his tongue about his mouth in an overly suggestive manner. Ugh. Men are such pigs.

Ignoring him, lest I turn around and jam my claws into his crotch, I did my best to steel myself for whatever I was walking into and started to push my way through the crowd already in front of me. There would be enough death and blood here without me adding to it. It was such a waste of potential and life. Make others kill each other merely for the sake of entertainment, how brutish. It's just one of the reasons why I wonder how we can say that Rome was such an advanced culture without cringing. That's not to say I don't understand the appeal, or why people enjoy seeing others suffer in such a way, but that doesn't make it right.

I will say this much, as sick and perverse the Main Event is, the amount of work they put into the arena itself, at least the one underneath Lady Liberty, is something to behold. Hydraulic lifts attached to platforms made it possible for combatants to fight high above the concrete floor. Fire jets, sometimes programmed to activate on a computer controlled timer, other times at the push of a button, were rigged up, spike pits lined the edge of the arena, and when I looked to the ground itself, I was pretty sure there were parts of the floor that could be pulled back to unleash what I believed would be wild animals into the arena itself. But the truth, as I'd find out before the night was over, was something else entirely, but more on that in a bit.

"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the Main Event!" A woman called out near the DJ booth, a sophisticated looking microphone and headset resting on the right side of her brightly dyed head of hair, allowing her full use of her hands. "For those of you that've been here before, you know the score, but for our first timers, let me break down the beatdown!" Someone loved to hear themselves talk, but I'll say this, the announcer for the evening knew how to draw the crowd's attention. "And what better way to introduce you than to show you our ranking champion in action? Behold! Abbadon!"

If you've ever seen any WWE match on TV or in the colosseum itself, fake or real, doesn't matter, then you can guess what happened next. For those that haven't however, let me 'break it down for you'. You have your two main entrances to the ring, where your average wrestler or boxer or whatever, will come out of with the sound of their chosen music roaring in the background. The real popular ones go all out with fireworks and explosions as they make their way to the ring, and of course the roar of the crowd.

However, unlike the one you might see on TV this so called, Abbadon, didn't enter half naked or something of the like. He marched in, black gleaming kevlar or something similiar hiding every inch of his body, and a long serrated blade in his hand, blood still dripping from its last kill. Although his body was hidden, one could still see his eyes through a narrow slit in his face mask. And I will say this, never before or after have I seen eyes like his on another human being. Wild with hatred and rage, yet also calm in the face of battle and more than a little madness was present as well. My instincts immediately began screaming at me that this was someone not to be underestimated.

It's nice when your instincts do that, gives you a heads up. However, it's the people who don't trigger your instincts who manage to evade even your supernatural senses, those are the ones who often prove far more dangerous. But that was neither here nor there as I watched, transfixed as if I were looking at a train wreck fresh off the tracks, as a dozen men and women were shoved into the ring before Abaddon before the door they had just been ejected through was slammed in their terrified faces.

The black clad, I cannot call him warrior because that would entail he had a shred of decency or honor, butcher began to shake after he saw his opponents, and it took me a moment to realize that he was laughing. With a cold, mocking laugh he looked at each of his future victims for a moment. None could meet his eyes, and as they squirmed in fear of him, his laugh became joyful. With that joyful laugh still on his lips, he jumped at his first opponent, a young man probably not even in his twenties. With a swing of his blade, he cut off his legs just below the knees. Ghouls are stronger than humans by far, so it was like he had just cut into two pieces of paper rather than flesh, bone, and sinew.

Those screams would hound me forever, the pure agony in them still torments my soul from time to time. The screaming man hit the floor, but Abbadon wasn't kind enough to finish him just yet as the crowd around me roared and cheered at the sight. He plunged his blade into his shoulder and twisted, slowly, back and forth. The screams rose in volume. I don't know how the guy didn't pass out or bleed out by that point, but I already wished I was anywhere else but there as the butcher continued his work for the enjoyment of his Kindred masters.

While they thought him distracted two of the others decided that they should attack him together from behind. They had just stepped into range when the maniac whirled around, his sword ripping open the abdomen of both, spilling their entrails onto the floor. With another giggle, he turned around, lifted his foot, and brought it down on his first victim's head, crushing the skull into a pulp effortlessly. The rest of the massacre, again calling it anything else would be a bald faced lie at this point, proceeded just as badly for the innocent souls that had been thrown at Abbadon like lambs to the slaughter. The only merciful thing I can say about it was that he didn't discriminate. Men or women, he didn't care about anything else except killing them in the most brutal, bloody fashion he could.

"Blood! Blood! Blood!" Abbadon screamed in pure euphoria as he cut another hapless man apart. The crowd was delighted to say the least, their cheers ringing in my ears, threatening to turn me deaf with their volume. Me? Well, it was all I could do not to throw up. I had seen wounds and death before, having left at least a few bodies behind me personally before that night, but this? This was brutality for the sake of brutality. But to be completely honest? That was what scared me the most, well that and the way Abbadon seemed not to enjoy it, but to literally love it, this creature lived for death and nothing else.

"It only gets worse from here, Cleopatra." I don't think I've ever been so happy to see a Nosferatu before in my life. Despite the disparaging name he used to identify me, the ugly cretin in question offered me a sympathetic smile, which under normal circumstances might have set the hairs on the back of my neck to standing on end, but in this case I hardly noticed. "So, you're one of hers huh? Can't say I like her choice in converts, but that's Setites for you. Hated by all, yet needed by all."

"Thanks." I told him, a touch of my old sarcasm finding its way back into my voice, just as a victorious roar sounded behind me as the last of the sacrifices died in mind shattering agony. The mad creature got a resounding cheer in return. I did not need to look to know that this thing would be splattered in blood and gore, and other things I didn't even want to think about.

"Sure you wanna stay, you look a little green." He told me mockingly, a superior gleam in his eyes. Most Nosferatu and Toreador don't get along, in case you're curious, so his attitude wasn't at all out of character as he just grinned down at me despite the fact I was taller than he was. "I'm sure your high priestess would understand. Not everyone's cut out for this line of work after all."

"Sorry to disappoint you." I growled back, not about to run back home with my tail between my legs. "Never challenge a southern woman, it won't end well for you."

"Says you Cleo. 'Sides, I was raised in the Bronx before there was a Bronx, so make all the noise you want. But I won't stop ya, just try not to lose your dinner in the meantime. Got enough of a problem keeping this place clean as it is." The Nosferatu ringleader shot back before he walked away, leaving me to my business now that he had laid out the score between us. He had made it abundantly clear he didn't like me, or the Setites, but he wasn't forcing me to leave either, because quite simply, he couldn't. Not without offending Taweret and reneging in whatever deal he'd made with her anyway, which would have ended very badly for him if he tried. Essentially, I was the one with all the power here since I was representing my priestess, but I wasn't stupid enough to try and test how much leeway I had with the man. You can only push someone so far before they push back.

As for his concerns about keeping the place clean, in retrospect, I have to say that this statement is kind of funny considering what happened. But let's not get ahead of ourselves, I have still a lot to tell you before we get to that part of my little story. Having made our threats at each other and did our dance as we had, the Nos and I gladly parted ways, which allowed me to start seeking out anyone that might need a favor from Taweret and the Setites, or to remind those that already had made such deals that their time was coming and payment would be required soon. Needless to say, I was busy, as I went through the list of pictures and information Taweret had downloaded on my smartphone for this very occasion. I made it a point to start with those that had already been in contact with the Setites before doing anything else. I wasn't about to let anyone slip the net, especially after my round with the ringleader. I was pissed and determined to do my job and do it right.

Unlike most Toreador, I prefer to get my own hands dirty, something I said at the very beginning of this. In life I was the same, so why would I be any different in unlife? Besides, if you can't do something yourself, but need others to do it for you, well then you don't deserve it in the first place. I always believed that one should take responsibility for one's own actions. Perhaps old fashioned, but better then being able to tell yourself that everything is fine just because you didn't personally rip a family apart. An extreme example, I know, but the point remains the same.

As for the fighting, I was able to largely block out the mess in the arena, but every so often I was violently reminded of where I was when I heard a particularly loud scream normally preceded by the breaking of bones or the squelch of torn flesh. Thankfully Abaddon seemed to have retired, at least for the moment. Which made sense, he was their champion. The one they used to make evenings special, to get everyone in the mood. They couldn't have him around all the time, that would get boring. And I was infinitely grateful for that, for none other had even come close to the sheer sadistic glee that thing radiated. Of course, I changed my tune somewhat when I saw another specialty of this particular setting. It turns out they did have exotic, wild animals ready to throw into the pit at the right time, except if you replace the word 'exotic' for the much more apt 'horrific', you'd be on the right track with what came later on in the night as I was just finishing up with the sixth name on my list.

The lights were turned off first, which was met with an excited hum and a few quiet cheers from the crowd. The atmosphere, that had been positively charged, had changed dramatically with that single action. The blood lust and fever pitch was still there, yet there was something….else, in the air now, something I wouldn't call terror, but it was definitely discomfort although I couldn't guess as to why until the announcer came on the air again. "Ladies and gentlemen, as you're all well aware, tonight we have a rare treat for all of you. Our illustrious Prince has let his Tzimisce friend out of her dungeon to bring us her menagerie of her latest creations. For those that know of the infamous, diabolic fleshcrafters, normally they're only Sabbat lunatics and bloodthirsty monsters, but every now and again, one comes along that prefers partying with the rest of us Cammies." There was derisive laughter, to be sure, but it wasn't quite as all encompassing or heartfelt as it had been not so long ago when the fights had been taking place. And despite her attempts to the contrary, I could hear a note of terror in the announcer's voice as she stepped up to her podium. I was about to find out why everyone was so afraid of the Tzimisce.

"So, without further ado folks, Kindred from all over the world and in some cases, under it, feast your eyes and try to hold onto your dinner because tonight just wouldn't be complete without a good old fashion cage fight!" When the arena perimeter disgorged eighteen foot long electrified steel fencing before a matching steel ceiling was quickly secured and bolted onto the fence, I knew that whatever was about to happen required extra security for some reason. That in itself was not a good thing, and did nothing for my already stretched thin nerves. Each section of the fence came out of the floor with an ominous boom, before Kindred quickly went about securing the ceiling segment. Once everything was in order, the juice was cranked on, and bolts of raw electrical energy crackled and writhed through the cage.

They say that when you stare into the abyss, the abyss stares back into you. I didn't understand what that meant when I heard the saying the first time, but when the first of the 'exotic creatures' were let out of their cages from beneath the arena floor, I'm pretty sure my bowels found a way to loosen despite my non functioning intestinal tract. H.P. Lovecraft often wrote about creatures beyond our simple, mortal understanding, of otherworldly beings that are so alien and powerful, that to merely look upon them is to invite disaster and madness. Looking upon the monstrosities the 'guest of honor' had brought with her certainly had me wondering if I had gone mad, because there was no way that something like that first creature, let alone its brethren, could have ever been conceived naturally. Which was exactly the point, because they hadn't been created by natural means at all. There is nothing natural about Vicissitude. For some godforsaken reason, Clara, yeah that Tzimisce, decided to have the DJ play Marilyn Manson's Sweet Dreams. I've since made it a point to never play that particular song again after what I saw come out of that arena floor. Thanks a lot you fleshshaping bitch, you ruined one of Manson's best songs for the rest of my eternity.

Clara's mount, at least its three, disfigured, misshapened heads, were the first thing the crowd and I saw when I foolishly went back to the arena's edge, mindful of the electrified fence now separating us from the pit that dominated the chamber. Each one had mouths filled with razor sharp, curved dagger like teeth, each of them were wide open, ready to devour anything that came within range of their maws, and from the pain wracked, maddened look in their mismatched, beady little eyes, they weren't particularly picky about what they were directed at. This thing might have been human, once, but it was impossible to tell now what it had once been, and that was only the beginning. The beast of burden and war was big, so there was a fair bit more yet to see. Clara, nestled safely on the horribly disfigured three headed bear like creature's back, held onto reins that were ropes of sinew and muscle ligaments, which in turn were seamlessly connected directly with the beast's thick, tree trunk sized neck. I couldn't imagine the pain it felt anytime she so much as gripped the 'reins' too tightly, let alone pulled this way or that to get it to turn the way she wanted. The fact she did so effortlessly said that this thing had been well trained to respond to her commands.

The six, spindly yet muscle packed legs, which ended in four, long toes which had at least two, retractable razor sharp talons on each, moved the monstrous being along with a grace and ease that shouldn't have been possible, yet it was. To make it worse, the power was turned off to the fence, and it was made readily apparent that it could walk on walls, or the ceiling, as Clara commanded her demented beast to do just that before eventually making their way back to the arena's gore covered floor. And her war mount was just the beginning. She had ghouls, same as any Kindred, but like her mount, they were all misshapened in some way or another, and some of them seemed overjoyed to have been transformed as they fell in behind their mistress and her powerful, grotesque freak of nature.

As for Clara, she had forsaken her human mask and had fully embraced her clan's twisted nature for the occasion. There was little point to lie about what she was at this point as her cadre of misshapened servants took up position on either side of her monster. The Tzimisce was however, was equal parts beautiful and terrifying, showing off the best of both worlds, or so she no doubt believed. Her full, black lips, pale, beautifully soft skin, and her eyes were the only truly human parts about her. The rest was a Tzimisce 'work of art', but beauty is in the eye of the beholder. The centipede of flesh and muscle along her back now had sharp, wicked looking spines that I was pretty sure had a liquid coating of some kind upon them. Perhaps poison, or some kind of organic acid, I couldn't tell at the time. Her long, dexterous fingers now ended in six inch long talons that matched the color of her pale skin, and her arms were covered in bone gloves that reached up to her elbows. At least I thought so until she raised her hand to the ceiling, a signal to turn the lights back on, and I saw that the bone was growing right out of her flesh, giving a whole new meaning to exoskeletal armor. It wasn't just her arms that had bones, painted red, or dipped in blood, covering her body though. Her entire 'outfit', was that of hardened and shaped bone, giving her a grotesque, gothic, medieval noblewoman air about her. And god help me, a part of me found her darkly erotic and sensual in a nightmarish kind of way.

I couldn't tell you if that was the Toreador side of me responding to her grotesque, nightmarish yet beautiful appearance, made worse by my recent corruption at the hands of my priestess, or if it was just me. Whatever the case, I couldn't look away, despite the fear and disgust she radiated just as she drew the eye of everyone with a still working libido. It didn't help that her 'red dress' did little to cover her body, if anything, her outfit only enhanced her otherworldly, Lovecraftian inspired beauty. It was the stuff of nightmares and dark desires both.

To make it worse, at least in terms of her truly monstrous nature, this wasn't even her Zulo Form, a combat ready shape that is the Tzimisce's most potent weapon as they take on a truly monstrous shape to tear apart their most powerful of opponents. Few that see a Zulo Form ever return to tell the tale. Sarah did, and she readily admits that the Tzimisce she took on almost took her apart despite how strong she'd already been at the time. As for their ideas of beauty, I'm sure we can all agree that a Tzimisce is not beautiful, and considering they were born out of the very evil, darkness, depravity, and debauchery of their creator in an effort to purge himself of said darkness, it's only natural that they reflect that in their very flesh that they can shape as easily as they shape the flesh of those around them. Their very essence is mutable, and they revel in their ability to change things as they see fit in the pursuit of their twisted ideals.

Yet that didn't change the fact that I couldn't look away. I wasn't the only one by any means, but I didn't notice right away, my blue, horrified gaze having since locked onto this demonic seductress that understood the power she held. She slowly dismounted her war beast, ensuring everyone saw her long, pale legs swing over the fleshy, high backed saddle before landing on the ground with a bounce in all the right places. Contained in her bone, blood painted dress as she was, she still had enough flesh that was able to move as naturally as any normal woman's, so of course I noticed, as did the crowd. What I didn't know, was that she was there as a warning to anyone that might dare to even think about crossing the Camarilla, and a reminder to those that already knew the message she had been instructed to deliver with her mere presence.

The rest of the night went about as you'd expect at this point once Clara and her cadre of misshapened ghoulish mutants filed out of the arena so the fighting could begin again in earnest. On the inside I was relieved, because while her appearance may have been shocking, she hadn't participated in the bloodshed. The mere thought about the wounds her monstrosities would have caused was enough to send a chill down my spine. On the other hand, I couldn't help but wonder just what kind of power she held within the Camarilla that gave her such sway over the other Kindred, even if she hadn't really done anything except make herself seen.

In the end, it didn't matter because I was in no frame of mind to keep up the charade any longer. I needed to get out of there. Taweret could send someone else to do tonight's business, I just knew that if I stayed any longer, I'd end up killing someone if I didn't lose my blood in sheer disgust and revulsion. Ignoring the satisfied gleam from the Nosferatu ringleader's gaze when I pushed past him, I made a beeline for the elevator, fully determined to put as much distance between myself and this hellhole as possible. Of course, if you've been paying attention, nothing in my life ever went that smoothly, because I ran into someone that froze me in my tracks.

Charles had made an appearance. At least, I thought it was Charles, but something felt different, because for one, he took one look at me and smiled. Charles never smiled, certainly not at me. While I was sure he didn't recognize me, that still sent me back a step anyway because the few times I'd seen him, he'd had made it clear he hated my very existence. So why was he smiling at me? Perhaps he had indulged himself with some alcoholic blood? Drugs? That would explain a lot either way. No such luck however, as I was about to find out.

"Good evening mademoiselle." Okay, now I knew for sure this wasn't the same guy that was in charge of the whole of New York. The utterly charming smile on his face was so out of character, I couldn't help but wonder if he had gone Malkavian when I hadn't been looking. And before you ask, no it's not possible for someone to spontaneously change their clans like that, but the thought passed through my mind anyway as the suited Ventrue held out his right hand which I tentatively grasped. I couldn't be rude after all right?

"Good evening." I managed to stammer out in response, so utterly out of my element I'm surprised I got my mouth to work at all. It didn't help that this guy looked just like Charles, right down to the expensive shoes and the almost OCD way he parted his short, neatly trimmed brown hair. My theory? It was Charles, but he didn't recognize me, which put him in a good mood. Well in that case better to get the hell out of here before he did and decided to throw me into the arena. "If you'll excuse me, I'm afraid this kind of entertainment is not for me."

"It's perfectly understandable. Not everyone can get behind this rather grotesque mockery of what once had an honored place in history. I'm only here because someone of great import to me was asked to attend." The Charles that wasn't Charles said and nodded in sympathy, which just further unnerved me despite the way he was trying to set my mind at ease. Probably because of that actually, because the Charles I knew trampled on people's feelings unless he thought they were important or useful to him. This guy though was trying to be nice? Something stank about this whole thing. Whatever my thought on the matter, the Ventrue I noticed was looking over my shoulder, which was probably just as well because it spared me having to explain why I was looking at him like he had grown a second head. "Clara, as magnificent a performance as ever."

Did I just fall into the Twilight Zone? That was the thought that flashed through my mind as I slowly turned around, just as Charle's gently excused himself and pushed past me to stand before the Tzimisce in question. The weirdness only shot up another notch when Clara gave him a teeth filled smile before cupping his cheek just as he bent down to kiss her deeply. Okay, this was starting to become way too much for me to handle. And predictably as ever, my mind decided to put it ever so eloquently. Get the fuck out of here! I didn't get two steps before Clara turned her currently inhuman face to me once she had broken from Charles's lips and raised an eye ridge inquisitively in my direction.

"You look….familiar to my eyes, childe." She mused aloud as she put a taloned hand on her boyfriend's suited chest. That thought alone was enough to make me throw up in my mouth a little bit. "Have I seen you before?"

"I think I'd remember." Shut up! Shut up shut up shut up! "You are rather memorable."

"Tsk, it is not uncommon for neonates of the lesser clans to shudder in our presence." She told me, while unknowingly echoing what she had told me at the party Catherine had dragged me to. She corrected herself however when she looked up into Charles's face and chuckled wryly at her own words. "Well, most of the lesser clans." Ugh…..totally, ugh! The almost lovesick look in her eyes wasn't helping my opinion in the slightest as Charles just grinned down at her in response.

"You'd never believe how our little love affair came to be in the first place." Charles chimed as he turned to face me, his right hand resting firmly on the back of Clara's bone dress. Now that I was as close as I ever wanted to be, I could tell it wasn't red paint that clung to the 'outfit'. It was most definitely fresh blood that had been allowed to dry onto the grotesque mockery of clothing.

And I don't want to know! Ever! I screamed in my thoughts, but instead I gave both of them an uncertain smile. I was sincerely hoping that they would let me leave, and soon, preferably right now. But I just could not help myself. Damn my curiosity. "Now I'm curious." I remember saying, like a total, complete fool. When I should have been making a quick exit, I was flirting with two of the most dangerous people in this madhouse. That said, I'll admit that there was a kind of thrill in that neither Charles or Clara knew who I was talking to. I was playing them both for fools, as was the Setite way, and despite my terror at being discovered, it made me feel powerful in a significant sense.

"He saved my life." Okay, that took me completely by surprise, but Clara admitted it so freely that it couldn't have been anything but true. It only helped cement its validity when Charles shrugged but nodded, as if to say it wasn't a big deal, but Clara wouldn't have any of that as she pulled him closer against her bone covered body. "Let it never be said that the Tzimisce are without honor. But it….became something more over time."

Good for you, you crazy bitch. I snarked in my mind, while cursing myself for asking in the first place. I could have been long gone if I hadn't asked, maybe, but no, I just had to ask the douche and his psycho lover about how they had met. "I'm finding it hard to imagine you'd need anyone to save you Miss….?" …..I hate myself sometimes. But Clara happily introduced herself and curtsied, at least as much as her bony dress allowed, before asking me for my own name. "Ms. Grant."

Thankfully, Charles was quick to pick up the conversation before Clara could ask anything more. I'm not sure how much longer I could have kept up the charade before my identity was called into question. "Well Ms. Grant, it has been a pleasure, but I fear we have much to do yet before the night is over. Come along Clara. We have to get your pets squared away before someone has a conniption fit. I don't have to remind you what happened the last time."

"I am well aware some people cannot appreciate all of my hard work for the Camarilla. If so much as a claw is out of place this time, I will find the offender and rip their skin off an inch at a time." Clara retorted, but her annoyance wasn't directed at the man on her arm in the slightest. As for what had happened the last time, despite my cursed curiosity, both literally and otherwise, I was immensely glad they had left me to stand by the elevator because I had had more than enough excitement for one night.

Which just meant that I had to get back as fast as possible before life decided to make things even more interesting if not downright insane. And I needed to report this to Taweret, she would be quite interested in Charles's relationship with the Tzimisce. While she might be disappointed I hadn't met with all of her contacts, as I said before, I didn't care anymore. I had gotten the point as to the real reason she had sent me to this hellhole. She had wanted me to see just what the Camarilla got up to behind closed doors, only further ensuring I wouldn't be in a hurry to return any time soon. It was all I could do not to frenzy on my way back to the surface as I was forced to think about everything I had seen for myself in the quiet confines of the elevator.

I guess you could really easily sum up most if not all of vampiric society with one simple sentence. Everyone's an asshole in their own way. Of course, most regular people can also be labeled in a similar fashion, but a human's life is barely a drop in the bucket compared to a vampire's. Not to say that their life mean less, but fact is that there are far more humans than vampires, and while their capacity for evil is just as readily available, at least most try to be better than their undead counterparts. How ironic that the species most vampires detest is the one that is actually superior to us in such matters. And without them, we couldn't exist. It's strange how the 'short lived mortals' are actually the elder race of the two of us. And despite the belief of many, they are the ones that are shaping this world more than we ever could despite all of our so called power we've accumulated.

Of course, I wasn't thinking about any of that on my way back to Taweret. There was far more pressing concerns on my mind. So much so that I at first didn't notice I was being followed until I had gotten off the ferry once it had docked on the mainland, and I was a few blocks walk away from the sanctuary. Having decided to use the alleyways and narrow passages between the buildings, in an effort to avoid as much contact from human and vampire as possible, I didn't think about who I might run into along the way until I saw the reflection of someone in a parked car's window. When I did however, I sighed and turned on my heel, my hand on my Desert Eagle's grip although to a casual observer, I was simply resting my hand on my hip. "What?" I demanded, in no mood whatsoever to be tailed by anyone.

"Alexandria Watson. You've changed your appearance, but the blood on your hands is all too easy to smell upon you." Crap. It wasn't long that the speaker, an asian, suited gentleman with a just visible katana hilt sticking out from underneath his long, tanned color trench coat, was soon joined by several of his associates. "You have stolen from the wrong people, and have destroyed our business in the warehouse district. This attack against our organization will not be allowed to stand another night." Double crap. I should have known that, that would come back to hound me, but to be honest, I had had other concerns on my mind. Despite my concern, the ambushers certainly seemed human, as far a quick scan with my Auspex was concerned anyway, which could be both good and bad.

Word of advice though? Never, and I mean it, never underestimate a human. You think just because you have all those powers and abilities that you'll have an easy time? That might be true against an ordinary human who has no idea how to fight. However, in some ways, humans can prove to be far more dangerous than a vampire ever could. They constantly adapt, change, and find new ways to overcome challenges. The moment you underestimate them, you're dead. So don't do that, unless you are one of those useless shovelheads, in that case, please jump right into your doom. You'd be doing the rest of us a favor.

Despite the obvious threat before me though, I was far too pissed off to care about the odds. Besides, a guy with a sword? How much of a threat could he be? Sure his associates had guns, but they were everything from pistols to a sawed off shotgun, nothing that I couldn't handle. The shotgun would be worrisome, true, but as Samuel had already proven to me my first day, bullets just tended to piss off vampires. I was confident, admittedly overconfident, I could handle these morons. "Funny, the only thing I saw was a scum sucking slaver and his buddies. Call it what you like, but the truth just makes me glad I'm no longer human." I spat back, in no mood to banter half truths or petty insults for that matter.

"Yes, I am well aware of what you are." The fact he said 'I' instead of 'we' meant exactly what it sounded like, that the leader knew but his cronies didn't. The way his buddies shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot, puzzled as to what we were talking about, only confirmed my suspicions. "But I am also well aware your kind can be destroyed just as easily as any man. Once I have separated your head from your shoulders, my employers will reward me greatly." To emphasize his macho man bravado, the man pulled his katana from the sheath on his back before holding it aloft and pointed in my direction.

"Let's see you try it." I hissed, not about to go down quietly. I needed to work off some frustration and rage anyway, so I figured this was a good as time as any to do just that. That, and since at least one of them knew what I was, he needed to die, even if I had no love whatsoever for the Camarilla itself. With that in mind, I didn't feel bad at all for what I was about to do as I closed my eyes for and concentrated, calling something to the surface I had yet had a chance to try in a situation like this. Remember I said I'd been taking lessons in the Setites' ways? It wasn't just the academic side I'd been allowed to study, although it had taken my killing my own mother for Taweret to show me more than a few mere cantrips of Serpentis. When I opened my blue eyes, I couldn't see how they had changed, but the way those unfortunate enough to meet my now slitted eyes told me they were frozen in place, immobilized as if they were staring into the eyes of a viper.

It was weak perhaps, since this was the first time I had used Eyes of the Serpent outside of a controlled environment, but it was all the advantage I needed as I shot forward. I hadn't immobilized all of the gunmen, but the fact half their number couldn't move caused enough confusion among the rest that they were slow to respond to me. Besides, they lacked the deadly incendiary ammunition Samuel preferred to use, the video of him watching as the fire burned its way into the heart of another Setite was still enough to give me its fair share of nightmares during this time of my life. Knowing that these idiots lacked this particular advantage was liberating though. That's not to say regular bullets don't hurt though, as I found out after I took down the first of the line of morons only to turn and receive a shot in the center of my stomach. A crushed windpipe before I had swept the man's legs out from under him, only to turn into the barrel of the next man in line, is not a good way to come out of Celerity. We both looked down though, me out of annoyance, and the man who had shot me out of unadulterated fear when the realization hit that I should have been bleeding out on the ground at his feet after taking a shot to the gut. Instead I looked up as he did, and I'm pretty sure he dropped a brick in his pants when he met my infuriated blue eyed gaze.

"Oh sh-" I never gave him a chance to finish as I grabbed his wrist, twisted it violently to the side, and wrapped my hands around his head, about to snap his neck like a twig. I changed my mind at the last second however, and instead shoved him forward just as the sound of the sawed off shotgun reached my ears. My human shield took the full brunt of the blast to his back, but I was already long gone, having moved to my next opponent in the space of a few seconds. Celerity is awesome like that, and while I had reactivated it on instinct more than conscious choice, it still aided me immensely during the fight. Time slowed down for me, albeit briefly since my control of it was still questionable, while granting me my clan's supernatural speed in the process. The time dilation is necessary however, because it's the only way someone moving that fast could hope to react to what's happening around them. Overuse of Celerity however has the side effect of making it so that the user can't help but wonder why everyone else is moving so slow.

I didn't have to worry about that yet however. I was too new and untrained, despite Antonio's 'lessons', to have reached the point Celerity would become a problem. Before the bleeding, buckshot riddled corpse could hit the ground, I had already grabbed the offending shotgun, twisted it around, and used its second shot to blow a huge hole into the man's skull. The old me would have probably started gagging by now, but the new me? Not so much. I suppose there are advantages to being a natural predator. Whatever the case, the morons I had immobilized were starting to shake off my Eyes of the Serpent spell, and then there was the katana wielding leader I needed to worry about. He was quick on his feet, quicker than I expected him to be, and when I pulled my Desert Eagle and took a shot at him, it didn't slow him down as much as I thought it would when I clipped his side. "Is that all you have?" He shouted back over the roar of the magnum as the remainder of his forces dispensed with all sense of strategy and just fired in my general direction. "You are nothing!"

"Then why are you running?!" I shouted back, even as I too was forced to jump behind the car I had passed initially before this ambush had been sprung. I wondered briefly how a full blown firefight could go on for so long without the police bearing down on us. Of course that was the moment where I faintly heard the approaching sirens, which meant that I had to end this quickly or make good on my escape. They must have had the same thought because the katana wielding asian man shouted something to the survivors, and they started to scatter to the four winds.

"This is not over. You will see us again!" As much as I wanted to pursue him and get it over with, I wasn't so consumed with bloodlust or righteous fury that I was in a hurry to get in a prolonged firefight with the police as well, who would just be doing their jobs in trying to bust up our little party. But I stared the asian man in the face, determined to burn his visage into my memory. The next time he would not escape me. He had started this fight by coming after me, but I would end it.

Going my own way, I made it a point to ascend a fire escape as fast as I could and ran the rest of the way to Taweret's temple by traversing the rooftops of lower Manhattan. Having learned my lesson once that night, I wasn't about to take a chance that someone else decided to use me as target practice. I didn't relax, even after my eyes, having since returned to normal, fell on the storage facility that marked the outer boundary of the Setite sanctuary. I only started to relax once I was inside and the secret entrance was barred and locked behind me. I wasted no time in heading down to the lower levels of the temple, where Taweret was most likely located, and wasn't disappointed when I heard the chanting of that evening's ceremony to our god in main hall ahead of me. As anxious and upset as I was over the night's events, I took the time until the end of the ceremony to collect myself in an effort to try and calm down. It worked, to an extent, but by the time Taweret walked out after the rest of the cultists had dispersed for the evening, I had started to pace the length of the hallway.

Taweret took one look at me and stopped me by putting her hands on my shoulders. "Peace, Alex, what's happened to have you so upset?"

Where to begin? My night had been, simply put, a nightmare. I decided to prioritize what bothered me, first telling her of the attempt on my life and the reason behind it. Then about Charles's unexpected presence and his relationship with Clara, and lastly about how this so called Main Event was nothing more but a mockery of life. Taweret took it in stride and remained silent until I had run out of steam, before she responded. "I fear I should have told you the truth of what you'd likely run into regarding their bloodsport. I did not think, and for that I apologize." At the time I believed her, but now I know better since as I've said before, she had known exactly what my response would have been. Not that she gave me a lot of time to consider it as she moved things along. "As for the attempt on your life, I am both intrigued these humans were able to locate you, but I am also pleasantly surprised on how you were able to get away. You say you used the Eyes of the Serpent?"

"Yeah, but I had a lot of motivation. I doubt I could pull it off again right now however." I replied honestly. Now that the adrenaline had started to wear off, I only then realized I was bone tired and needed a drink pretty badly, but I kept that to myself for the moment. She hadn't dismissed me after all, and besides, there were more important things to worry about.

"I see." The way she said that should have been a clear warning, but I didn't pick up on it, although I really should have expected her to test me in some way or another in the near future. Instead, she seemed to come to some kind of decision, because the next moment her thoughtful look that had fallen over her face disappeared, and she seemed to notice just how tired I looked. "We'll worry about this turn of events later. Come, you're tired, and you need to replenish yourself. I am proud of your accomplishments however. I do hope you've learned something tonight though."

"Yeah, I did. I am really starting to appreciate the fact you got me away from those sadistic pricks." And I was indeed quite happy that she had. After that bloodbath masquerading as civility, and even that was a far stretch, I was in no hurry at all to go running back to the Camarilla and those that followed their ways. Granted, Set and his ways weren't much better in many respects, but at least the Setites were honest about it, or so I stupidly believed at the time. But Tawaret's approving smile, despite the fact I hadn't talked to everyone she had sent me to see, was all the reassurance I needed that I had gotten the heart of the lesson she had wanted me to learn, which I had. Oh I most definitely had.

After satiating my thirst, I was all too happy to get a shower and fall into bed that night. Before that though, I vaguely remember hearing another attack had occurred, which had Taweret worried. But before I could ask, she put a finger to my lips and bade me to rest, that there was nothing to worry about. I was too tired to argue anyway, so I didn't bother pressing for more information. I should have though. Things might have turned out differently, although not necessarily for the better, if I had.

As for the next night, well, I'll close in saying that after what I had seen at the Main Event, I wanted nothing to do with the Camarilla. That desire, that need to separate myself from them in every way that mattered guided what I did next shortly after we had finished that night's first prayer to Set. "Taweret," I began hesitantly, knowing instinctively that I was about to make a decision that couldn't be taken back, but I needed to do this. I needed to finish my journey, especially after the sadistic, blood soaked revelry I had just witnessed the night before. God I was stupid, but my dark skinned priestess's inquisitive glance spurred me onward. "I...after last night, I want nothing to do with the Camarilla, and the only way I see that happening, is if you help me."

"Are you saying what I think you're saying?" Taweret asked, sounding genuinely surprised by where this conversation was going. The fact I remember seeing a hopeful gleam in her gaze should have made me reconsider my next comment, but I didn't see it at the time. Or I was really that blind that I couldn't see the obvious right in front of me.

But it only made it easier to find them. "I'll admit to being afraid, of having no idea what tomorrow might bring, but I need to see this through. If I'm to follow the path, I would have you show me the way. I want you to be the one to lead me through the Revelations." Yeah….I was a complete, and utter moron.

Taweret however, looked as if she was about to faint dead away on the spot as joy lit up her already glowing eyes. "I will do what I can to ease your passage down the path of wisdom and enlightenment, Alex, but what you ask will not be without its share of pain and tribulation. That said, the fact you trust me to assist you in this most sacred of our ways is not something I will squander." It was her plan all along of course, to have this very outcome play itself out, but her praise was genuine and heartfelt as she wrapped her arms around me in a loving embrace. I had just given her all the permission she needed to lead me down the rest of the way to their ideal of 'wisdom', of course she was overjoyed.

In retrospect, I can only say that this definitely ranks in the top five stupidest things I've ever done in all my life and unlife both. I can't recall any of the ones that rank higher and even if I did, I wouldn't tell you. The mere thought about how embarrassing that would be is enough for me to ensure eternal silence on the matter. I will say this though, despite how twisted Taweret was, especially with what I had just given her permission to do to me, she did care, in her unique fashion, and as such she didn't start with the harsher of the Revelations. That's probably the only reason I still have any shred of my humanity left.

"It will take a little bit for me to make the arrangements, but this honor demands a certain level of preparation. As such, to celebrate your commitment, I think it's only appropriate we have a little fun." She purred, sending a pleasant chill down my spine that invoked all kinds of….interesting images. If you guessed she planned to push the Revelation of Ecstasy upon me, you'd have won the bet.

But more on that next time.

End notes: Nomad-117: Well, let me start with saying that my silence last chapter was due to my lack of involvement in it. I was otherwise busy so Vergil wrote it on his own. Credit where credit is due. That said, I hope you enjoyed this chapter, although if you plan on hosting your own main event, then I am worried about you, just saying. However, this was a perfect opportunity to show that not everything is as it first appears to be. And even those that claim to be good have their own darker sides. Anyway, we decided to remind Alex of her past with this unexpected visit, and hopefully it worked for all of you just as well. Until next time, see you.

Vergil1989: Despite Nomad's lack of direct involvement, his assistance was still much appreciated, just as it's always been. As for this chapter though, I couldn't tell you where we came up with the idea for Clara's war beast, only that her appearance and the little demonstration she put on for the Camarilla sadists was very fun to put together. Finding Sweet Dreams by Marilyn Manson was just an added bonus because his brand of crazy, let alone the lyrics, just melded perfectly with the scene as a whole, and made it that much easier to put together. As for Clara and Charles, well, there's a reason for that too beyond what we said in this chapter. Feel free to make your guesses as to what's really going on there. D Anyway, see ya folks and hope you enjoy the next chapter. Peace!