White Wolf Publishing owns the "World of Darkness." My use is in no way meant to challenge their copyrights. This piece is not intended for any profit on the part of the writer, nor is it meant to detract from the commercial viability of the aforementioned copyright. Any similarity to any events or persons, either real or fictional, is coincidental and unintended.
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Wednesday, January 6, 2100 – 9:45 p.m.
"You may be deceived if you trust too much, but you will live in torment if you do not trust enough." – Frank Crane
"Son of a bitch," Joey grumbled, watching Winterbourne's emergency haven from a block away. He put down his infrared rifle scope, convinced that Winterbourne not only expected visitors, but that he was well fortified and ready.
Two options, Joey decided. I could walk right up, making like I don't realize he's been taking out my team, or I could try to sneak up on him, take him by surprise, and then fillet him at my leisure. The decision didn't take long.
He slipped out of his car and began to focus his attention on the streetlights, on the beams of light they cast on the road, and the shadows that existed at the edges of that light. He began walking slowly, knowing that his skill at manipulating shadows was such that no casual observer would ever see him, and that only a hunter would be able to notice the subtle shifting of the light around him and realize he was making use of vampiric abilities.
Of course, Winterbourne isn't just some casual observer, Joey reminded himself. He's an experienced street samurai who probably expects me to come calling, who was good enough to make my team's roster… and then wipe out that roster when he decided to.
Joey gripped his 10mm pistol tightly in his left hand as he approached Winterbourne's home, convinced that he'd been able to make all the way to the building's worn aluminum siding without being seen. He examined the alarm system on the window – a cheap model that made it obvious that the resident was not overly concerned about anyone who might be stupid enough to break in – and went to work getting around Winterbourne's disappointing safeguards.
Convinced he hadn't been detected, Joey slid the window open just wide enough to slip in, and then quickly closed it behind him. He holstered the pistol and drew a sawed-off, double-barrel shotgun, crouched in the darkness for several moments, waiting and listening for slightest hint of Winterbourne's location. It didn't take long – he heard the refrigerator open, a brief clanking of bottles, and the refrigerator closing.
Joey was off like a shot, bringing Winterbourne to bear just as the street samurai was taking his first sips of a newly opened beer. Winterbourne froze, staring wide-eyed at the intruder who was glaring at him down the short barrel of his shotgun.
"Tell me why," Joey growled.
"Huh?"
"Tell me why you killed them," he explained. "Before I kill you, I just want to know why."
"I didn't do it," Winterbourne protested.
Joey simply frowned, clearly conveying his disappointment that the street samurai wasn't man enough to own up to his sins.
"I'm serious," Winterbourne pleaded. "I thought it was you."
Joey searched for any sign that the street samurai was lying, and then blinked when Winterbourne managed to flick his beer bottle at Joey while diving to his right. Joey recovered in time to fire, but he only grazed Winterbourne, who rolled toward Joey, sprang to his feet, and swiped at the small kindred with ten-inch, surgical steel claws that extended out of his wrist from their sheathes in his forearm.
Joey used his shotgun to block Winterbourne's first swipe, but felt his right thigh open up as the street samurai slashed with his left arm. The kindred dashed backward, straight into a wall, and barely avoided being eviscerated as Winterbourne lunged again, his body beginning to move at unnatural speeds as his cybernetically-enhanced reflexes began to spin up.
Knowing he had little choice, and willing to take a chance that there wouldn't be any hunters watching Winterbournes home unless they already suspected a vampire might show up, Joey started to make use of his blood. His movements quickly caught up to the street samurai, who moments later looked like he was the one moving in slow-motion. Joey focused his blood in his arms and legs, augmenting his strength, and managed to connect with Winterbourne's forehead. The street samurai staggered back, and then Joey drew his 10mm and fired once, straight into his opponent's right kneecap. Winterbourne crumpled to the floor, but looked up with a smile.
"Shoot me again and we're both dead," he said, slowly extending his hand. Joey immediately recognized a sunburst grenade, one of the favorite weapons of the hunters. A small, highly explosive device, the sunburst would cover everything in the room with phosphorous, leaving Joey's body completely incinerated by the time the rest of the building collapsed from the flames.
Joey started to back away, but paused when he saw Winterbourne shaking his head. "You made no secret about wanting to kill me," the street samurai said. "Way I see it, if I let you walk out of here, you'll just come back and pick me off at your own convenience. So it's gonna be like this – you try leaving, and I blow us both up. You shoot me again, and I let go of the dead-man's switch and I blow us both up."
"So basically, you're telling me I should get ready to be blown up," Joey said, furious with himself for having allowed the young corp-jobber to get him in such a bad situation. I knew he's the type to willingly kill himself if it means he gets to take his murderer with him. I'm getting careless in my old age… "Or do you have anything a little more productive in mind?"
"Dunno," Winterbourne admitted. "I hadn't thought that far ahead."
"So…" Joey said, wondering if he could maybe talk himself out of the situation. "You said you thought I'm the one who killed off the team."
"You saying you didn't?" Winterbourne asked sarcastically.
"Most of them were just blown up," Joey pointed out, looking at his team member's face. Holy shit… He really does think I'm the one who did it. Which means it wasn't him, either. "Why would I be careful enough to blow up the hacker but then walk into arm's reach of the street samurai? Have I ever done anything that'd make you think I'm that stupid?"
"Always a first time," Winterbourne countered. "Besides, maybe I have something you need. Maybe you needed to take me alive, to torture me."
"Are you completely off your rocker?" Joey asked. "What could you possibly have or know that no one else in the team would?"
The vacant expression on the street samurai's face told Joey everything he needed to know. As Winterbourne stood there, considering an answer, he made the mistake Joey had been waiting for – he made direct eye contact. Joey reached out with his mind, grabbing a hold of the street samurai's will; he fought through the fear, rage, and stim-induced paranoia, and found the core of Winterbourne's thoughts. And at that core, Joey sensed doubt.
"I need you to calm down," Joey commanded in a soft, soothing voice, thinking he sounded much as he would if were trying to calm down an excited guard dog. "Just take a deep breath, and relax."
"Okay…" Winterbourne relented, inhaling deeply, exhaling slowly. "Okay…" He didn't move, but Joey could see him gradually relax, hesitantly shuffling his feet backward an almost imperceptible fraction of a step. "So now what?"
"I'm going to holster my weapon," Joey said. "And you'll flip the grenade's dead-man switch to the disarmed position."
"Uh-huh," Winterbourne muttered, following the vampire's command.
Now that Winterbourne was coming down off of whatever stims he'd taken, Joey could see that the street samurai was completely compliant. He is blood-bound after all. So much the better. "Now we'll talk," Joey said.
"Talk," Winterbourne repeated, seeming to take comfort in Joey's assurances. "What will we talk about?"
"We're going to figure out who fucked us."
To be continued………………………………………