Chapter 24: Never Break the Chain

I wandered.

I wandered around downtown Los Angeles, with no idea where to go, or even what I was looking for. But I knew I needed to find my clan.

At first it was all a brightly-lit daze, with no sense of direction. I knew I needed to stay within sight of LaCroix's tower, but as it was the tallest skyscraper in LA, it turned out that covered a pretty wide area. Or did the note mean I could see it from the base of the tower? This is more complicated than I originally anticipated. A sign on a bus stop caught my eye - "The Reconing. Coming Soon." It looked like an advertisement for some movie, but still..." I looked at the bus map. I tried to orient myself. Where burns the mystical sun... Where it rises? East, maybe?

I walked east, heading towards what the sign said should be a hospital – only to find it was now a pile of demolished ruins surrounded by fences with very serious-looking warning signs on them. I turned to continue down the street. That's when I saw them – the CDC suits.

The people were just standing there, holding some kind of sensor up into the air. I stopped and stared at them for a moment. I couldn't see where they were looking – their eyes were hidden behind tinted plastic visors built into their airtight plastic suits. I moved moved past them, desperate to show nothing unusual in the way I was acting. I held my breath in fear. Then I realized I wasn't breathing at all. I made a conscious effort to breathe, only to start almost hyperventilating in compensation. I burned blood to make my heart beat, then burned more to make myself warm in case they had infrared sensors. I passed out of sight of the uncomfortably aware observers and almost collapsed in relief. That was really weird. What the hell is going on around here?

I moved quickly into a back alley, desperate to be away from the streets and more possible CDC agents – I got the feeling they somehow knew I was a walking corpse, or at least that something was medically wrong with me. I looked over at a dumpster, only to see a very sick woman, dressed in rags, sitting wearily next to it. I carefully skulked past, trying to avoid her notice. She was delirious and saw nothing. I walked down the alley further, having no real idea where I was going – I just wanted to get away.

I finally met a friendly face in the form of a firm, attractive hooker. She looked like she was full of delicious blood – and I'd been blasting adrenaline and Auspex in fear ever since I'd seen the CDC units, to say nothing of what I'd spent to pass as human. I could use a drink to calm my nerves and fill me up. "Hey honey. What brings you down this dark alley?" I was about to pull out my wallet when I noticed the sunken eyes, the pupils dilated like saucers, the subtle but uncontrollable shaking of the left arm... all things that would have slipped my notice if not for my supernatural Auspexial observational capabilities. Could just be the effect of drugs... or the addiction to a drug... or it could be... I put two and two together. People were sick. Seriously sick. I figured that Kindred were immune to disease, but... I didn't know anything for sure. With a shake of my head, I all but bolted out of the alley.

I walked down the street, trying to find a safe place. A church came into view – gothic and grand, it evoked images of sanctuary in my mind. Then I heard the pounding beats blasting out from its buttressed walls. Is that... a club? One look at the crowd inside gates that led to a confined yard next to the former cathedral confirmed my suspicions. However, the crowd inside wasn't just well-dressed and young... they were healthy. I quickly saw why. Two large bouncers were yelling with a girl dressed in a miniskirt and silver tube top. I'm sure she once looked quite pretty – before she had to cake on makeup to cover up her sunken sockets, her yellow complexion, before she started shaking so very much and stared out at the world with wide, crazy eyes that were filled with saucer pupils. The bouncers had made it clear she wasn't getting in, and when, crying, she demanded why, they simply told her it was for health reasons. "But I'm not sick! I feel fine!" They were having none of it. I also noticed that they were wearing medical masks and rubber gloves.

After the girl left, brawling, I decided to try and get in. After all, at least I know there's healthy feeding in there. I approached the massive human towers of muscle. Okay... even breathing, stay in the bubble, keep your heart beating and your flesh warm... god, I wish I could make myself look less pale... approach calmly. "Hi. What's the cover charge to get in?"

They stared at me from behind dark glasses for a few seconds, before calmly answering "Forty dollars."

Geeze... well, LaCroix did hook me up. I should also bribe them to keep them from checking ID. I pulled out three twenties and handed them over. "Keep up the good work. Not too many places in the city you can go any more to avoid... those types." With a nod, I was admitted in.

The group inside was a mix of young and hot mingling with older and well dressed. A lot of people were dressed in goth outfits. Just as many were dressed in suits and evening gowns. I fit in well enough. I took out a cig to calm my nerves and give me a chance to look around. I sat outside the ornate doors, a bit overwhelmed by the absurdity of it all. I wasn't too far off when I thought of taking refuge here. Glad that Jack told me that crosses and holy symbols can't hurt me or I'd be almost afraid to go inside. Ironic, considering that if this was still a church and not a club, it would probably be packed with the sick. I noticed a lone guy taking a piss behind a dumpster and licked my lips at the thought of the easy food. I held myself back, not sure if that was safe, not wanting to be noticed among all these nervous, twitchy yuppies. Last thing I need to do is screw up my secure status with a Masquerade violation. I finished my cig and stepped through the doors.

The music enveloped me, throbbing and melodic simultaneously. I found myself taking a liking to the place immediately. The church had various metal walkways installed up above, giving it an industrial feel. A bar stretched to the left, where an absurdly hot bartender was standing and smiling. I moved through the crowd towards the bar. From here, I could see the dance floor proper, at the cross of the church. Almost naked women danced in cages suspended overhead, while on the dance floor gothic bondage gear mixed with suits and classy dresses, and the altar was covered with a cage covered in sacrilegious symbols, topped with an inverted cross. I couldn't help but smile – sacrilege has had a special place in my heart ever since I'd realized my parents were full of shit.

"Everyone comes in here's got to have a shot – house rules. Inhibition's the first thing to go," a British voice instructed me. I looked over at the bartender who'd caught my eye earlier. She had my immediate attention – she was pleasant and fascinating to look at – hot as hell, with enormous breasts that her black skintight midriff shirt showed off very well, which was all she wore aside from pink short shorts. She had wild black hair and eyes accentuated by dark eyeliner. She had this punk look and piercings that told you she was someone intense and interesting. She slammed down a shot glass and filled it with some kind of high-proof vodka from a bottle with Russian writing on it. "Two more of these and you'll be telling me your nastiest, dirtiest stories. I am your beat priestess and it's time to confess."

I looked down at the glass and bitterly regretted not being able to drink actual alcohol – I had the money, and I would have definitely enjoyed taking a shot in this place. I hadn't been to a club proper in years before the Asylum – but still, I liked the feel here. And this waitress. "What's your name?"

"Venus was her name." She looked down at the glass, frowning, as I sat there uncomfortably, not taking my shot. "Got anything you'd like to confess?

All this talk of confession brought up more unpleasant reminders of childhood. Although... all the fucked up shit I've done lately... gotta hope there's no final accounting for all this... Stop thinking like that. Think of what you're going to say now. I stalled. "Why all this talk about confessing?"

Venus smiled in amusement. "It's the name of the club. The Confession. You come here take your dirty little secrets off your chest – because alcohol is cheaper than therapy."

I thought for a moment. It would feel good to get some stuff off my chest, but... Masquerade... wait, does admitting to criminal acts count as a Masquerade violation? It's not like she'd believe me. With a smile I informed her that, "In the last two nights I've shot up a diner and I blew up a warehouse. What do you think of that?"

She grinned, then stared me down. "But really, what's your thing, hmm? Stealing from work? Sex in graveyards? Watching the neighbor's daughter with the lights off?"

With a smirk, I threw her back another genuine confession she would think wasn't real. "I managed to convince one twin sister to shoot the other through her eye. I was actually screaming for her to pull the trigger, as a matter of fact." It was pretty fun, actually, saying something close to the truth out loud. Not the full truth, of course – I could never tell the full truth.

Now she was intrigued. I don't think she believed me, so much as she found what she thought I made up to be interesting. "Really? I don't think I've got anything in this place that's going to wash away that sin. But you know what, fuck it, nothing exciting ever happens in heaven anyway, right?"

I smiled at that. "I wouldn't know. There's no way in hell I'm getting into heaven. I'm beyond redemption." Somehow, something about saying that in a church struck a chord with my inner child. That being said, my inner child was being rapidly buried away, along with my inner human, my inner Luke. And what's left of me without them? Fuck it. I'd already abandoned that religious shit before I'd become one of the undead. I'm not losing anything right now.

The music belted out lyrics that fit the scene. "I'm walking between the pain... without redemption. I lay my life away! I lost my soul!"

I was pulled back to reality by Venus' voice. "Well, you may not be able to find redemption, but you can at least enjoy damnation. Take a shot."

I sighed. I'd hoped she'd forgotten about it. "I can't. Medical condition."

Venus snorted derisively. "Bullshit. Why'd you come in here then?"

I thought for a moment... why did I come in here, exactly? "Sanctuary from the plagued masses... and I guess for a chance to confess. I'll tell you what, I'll pay for the shot and you can have it." Man, spending LaCroix's money is so much fun. He gave me a grand, and while I should save most of it, I think one night of being profligate won't hurt. I threw the money on the table, relishing the feeling of wealth and power, petty as it was. I can see why LaCroix loves to show off his wealth so much... but I mean, there is a point beyond which that just gets completely unreasonable.

She looked at me with interest. "Hm... and here I thought you were just being cheap. Well then..." Venus reached over, making sure to give me a great view of her "assets," (funny how even though I'm not actually directly sexually attracted to her, it's still fun to look at... mmm... just thinking of all the blood in there... ha! Some things never change) before grabbing the glass and raising it. "What's your name, killer?"

I almost chuckled at that nickname, but the laugh stopped in my throat – because it was, in fact, true. I turned the aborted laugh into a cough, but the way Venus looked at me told me that she saw what happened. "It's Luke."

"No it's not. You're lying."

I looked at her askance. She had a mischievous grin on, but her eyes were boring into me with intensity. "What makes you say that?"

"You looked down and to the left when you spoke – that means you're lying. When someone looks up, it means they're remembering something. Looking down means shame. Looking right means logic, left means creative. Down and to the left is creative shame – hence, a lie."

I was skeptical, but still... she was right, technically. What the hell. Telling her my name can't hurt... can it? I looked her square in the eyes. "It used to be Luke. It's Lucius now."

Her mouth opened into a large grin. "Gets 'em every time. Alright then. Here's to you Lucius – keep making sure the other guy dies first." With that she downed the powerful brew and slammed the shot glass back onto the table. She exhaled strongly and wiped her mouth off. "Mmm... that's the stuff. So tell me, Lucius... what are you getting into tonight?" She was eying me up and down. If I was egotistical or drunk I'd think she was into me, but I could see a certain calculating logic behind her eyes and in her aura.

"I'm... actually trying to find a place..." But I'm having no luck... the hell with it, why don't I just go straight to the Last Round? "Do you know where the Last Round is?"

She did a double-take at that. "You'd rather be at that run-down dump than here? I really don't think that's your scene, Lucius."

"I don't care if it's my scene or not. I need to meet someone there. Do you know how to get there?"

Once again, I could see she was assessing me, evaluating me... but for what? "Yeah, sure honey. Let me write down directions." She pulled a pen and a business card out of her incredibly tight pink short-shorts and started writing down on the back. She spoke while she wrote. "What exactly do you do for a living, Lucius?"

I don't think they have a word for what I do... She's prying too much. "I don't like talking about work when I'm having a good time."

She smiled up at me. "Of course, dear. I understand." Then she gave me a small wink. Great. Now she thinks I'm a criminal or something. "Here you are." I took the card. The address was there, along with driving directions. It wasn't too far.

"Thanks, Venus."

"Oh, no problem. Will I be seeing you in my club again, Lucius?"

I looked up in surprise. "Your club?"

"What, did you think I was just some bartender? No, I own this little confessional – I just take a hands-on approach to running it. I'll tell you what – I'll make sure the bouncers know to let you in from now on. No more cover charge. Come back whenever you feel like it."

"Um.. thanks. I might be back some time soon. See you, Venus." With that, I got up and left The Confession.

As I walked out into the small enclosed area, I realized I hadn't even had a chance to feed inside. I turned around, looking at the small enclave past the doors with the dumpster – I heard something down there. I was greeted by the sight of a patron puking his guts out. Most importantly, he was by himself and in a badly-lit area. I walked over, seeming to show concern. Then things got dark and I slipped low, moved quietly, and came in for the bite. After all, I did want to have a drink tonight... and I knew there was plenty of alcohol in him if he was puking. The drink went down smooth and pleasant, an nice blend of intoxication and sustenance.

I walked out of the walled area with the smoking patrons, nodding to the bouncers as I reached the streets. I wandered down the street in the direction of the Last Round. As I strolled along, I thought over what had happened. Venus wanted something from me – I could tell by her aura. I was now in the habit of using Auspex whenever I was having any worthwhile social interaction – I had always had trouble reading faces, and being able to look at auras was like having a desperately needed social cheat available to me. What exactly did I do that interested her? It was the confessions... which were dumb, why did I do them? I guess this stuff I've been doing has had more of an emotional strain on me than I realized. But no... it was when I coughed up that laugh at her nickname, when she realized I was actually a bit upset by it... and then when I lied about my name... and needing to meet someone at the Last Round... and throwing money around... yeah, I think she thinks I'm in the mob or something. So what does she want? Should I bother coming back here? The hell with it. Task at hand. Which is... to get to the Last Round, I suppose. A shame, that I couldn't find the Tremere Chantry. It's got to be around here somewhere...

"It is. Look behind you."

I froze in place, my sire's words hitting me like a blow. I spun. I scanned the buildings. Office, apartment, small little building tucked in there, office...

"Look again. Look closely. Look past the enchantment."

Of course. Auspex. I scanned again, this time looking carefully. I almost missed it again – because of the way my eye slid past the building, the same way it had when I tried to look at Tung the first time. I stared and saw details I'd passed up earlier, details that should have stood out to me, and yet I'd just let slip past my notice.

The style of the building was absurdly old, almost Victorian. It was a mere three stories tall – a dwarf in the middle of downtown LA. It was constructed entirely out of brick. And most noticeable of all – the glowing purple fire burning in the middle of a circular window at the very top, where the roof became narrow. I blinked, unsure if what I was seeing was real – my mind kept trying to forget, my eyes kept trying to slip past it, and it seemed to almost shimmer in front of me. Of course I couldn't find it – I wasn't looking properly. I should really just have Auspex on constantly. If not for the constant blood flow I'd need... Well, time to meet my clan. I walked forward, into a well kept cobblestone path that led up to an ornate door, lit by two Victorian lamps on either side. I took a deep breath to calm my nerves. I reached out my hand to open the door.

"Lucius, before you walk through that door, I wish to speak with you. I know the dilemma which clouds your mind – whether to be bound to clan Tremere or not. I cannot tell you which path you should take, as I never had to face such a choice – none in our clan do. In a way it's a blessing, to not have to struggle with such a difficult question – to chose between knowledge and power. For on the one hand, if you leave clan Tremere, you will have more knowledge than those around you, you will be considered valuable, you will have power and influence. On the other hand, you will never learn anything more about Thaumaturgy. For our clan has a monopoly on such knowledge. And so all that you know now about the subject – all that you understand about the supernatural world and the nature of vampirism – is all you shall ever comprehend. The only way you will find answers is through the clan. I leave the choice to you."

I didn't know what to say. I... thank you, Serena. I know you could demand I do something – hell, you could probably force me to, now that I think about it. And you're letting me make that choice. I... I felt almost guilty... I knew what she wanted me to do – join the clan. I almost felt obligated to her, since she had given me the choice. Let me get to know them first... this is a big decision, after all.

"Indeed. Oh, and Lucius? I am honored you wish to take my surname. My full name is Serena Marshall."

I took another breath to steady myself. I reached out my hand. I turned the knob. The door swung open. I entered.

My first impression of the chantry was... eerire. The air itself seemed filled with some kind of static charge, and a whisper of a hum radiated was background noise. Intricate patterns adorned the walls. Elaborate, stylized ironwork held up glowing lamps. There was a stairway to the right that led up to a door with no handle. To the left there was a hallway reaching back into the building, and a desk situated in front of that hallway, blocking the way forward. A ghoul, dressed in a black suit and a red collared shirt, was sitting at the desk, reading a book. He looked to be about twenty years old, but I knew with ghouls and Kindred apparent age could be deceiving. He looked up at me with deep green eyes that stared out from slightly sunken sockets that were covered in long black bangs as soon as I stepped in.

"Hello. How can I help you?" he asked.

"Um... I'm here to see..." I pulled the riddle from my pocket and read the name. "...M. Strauss, Tremere Regent. Is this the chantry?"

The man nodded. "It is. Do you have an appointment with Mister Strauss?"

"Er... not exactly. He told me to come see him..." I looked back down at the riddle. "...at my earliest convenience. Here." I handed over the riddle that had been placed in my haven.

The man looked the document over for a few moments before nodding. "I see. Mr. Strauss is busy at the moment, but he should be free in a few minutes. Please, feel free to pull a chair out from under then desk and make yourself comfortable while you wait – I'll make sure he sees you as soon as he's able."

I nodded in appreciation and pulled out a wooden chair from the desk. I sat myself down and looked around, trying to take the place in. It radiated something otherworldly, whispered of deep secrets. My eyes were drawn to several books adorning the desk, amidst various forms, sign-in sheets, and documents. One particular name caught my eye – Thaumaturgical Creatures. What on earth... you can create living creatures using Thaumaturgy? I have to know about this. "Um... excuse me. Could I read that book while I wait here?"

He eyed me warily. "Are you a member of Clan Tremere?"

Technically... "Yes, I am."

The receptionist nodded. "Very well."

I took the book and opened it almost reverentially. Here I could get an idea for what secrets lay buried in this Chantry – what the clan offered in exchange for the blood bond. I began reading the introduction.

"The use of blood magic to craft living creatures is one of the most advanced forms of Thaumaturgy, being of the school of Biothaumaturgy. Nonetheless, it is also one of the oldest. Necessity dictated that clan Tremere find servitors and soldiers in the early days of the clan, when we were under constant attack by the Tzimisce and other local vampires. Many old, established clans considered us "usurpers" and "not true" vampires, for the simple fact that we, as a clan, were mortals who had discovered a means of endowing ourselves with immortality."

I stopped. I was stunned. Here was a clan that had unlocked the very secrets of vampirism – mortals who had chosen this for themselves. Then they have a scientific explanation for this – or at least a logical one of some kind. They grasp the secrets of the essence of this curse. I couldn't help but admire the boldness of reaching for such a power willingly. I read on.

"Many experiments were tried – on animals, on humans, on other vampires. Through trial and error we learned the methods and the techniques. Many died at the hands of their own creations – but others created beings which they could control. At long last, our clan crafted the ultimate living Thaumaturgical war machine – the Gargoyle. This gave us the ability to keep our Chantries safe and to hold our enemies at bay on the battlefield, allowing Tremere to secure and establish itself. Contained herein is a list of all such Thaumaturgical creatures, along with their properties and natures. May this work serve to educate those newly inducted into our clan in the awesome power that Thaumaturgy may offer to those who dedicate themselves to study and service to the clan.

E. Bankins, Regent, Chicago."

That was the end of the introduction. I set the book down on my lap. I looked over at the receptionist. He read on, oblivious. This can't be coincidence. This book is like... temptation incarnate. I'm being played somehow. This can't just be some random book I picked up... can it? Warily, I looked back down to the text and turned the page. There was a table of contents, listing all manner of strange creatures with names like something out of a Dungeons and Dragons monster manual. I looked up the only one I recognized – the one that had been mentioned in the introduction.

The Gargoyle. A hand-painted rendition of the creature showed a massive, towering man of stone, looking like a giant warrior, wielding a massive sword over a medieval soldier a quarter its size. "During the medieval conflict with the Tzimisce, clan Tremere delved deeper into secret blood Magicks and developed a race of protectors known as Gargoyles. Since their inception, Gargoyles have been used as scouts, warriors, and sentries. Gargoyles are monsters, vampires, by virtue of the flesh through which they are created. They are no more than the detritus of other clans, given a second chance to serve their Tremere creators. Unfortunately, many have wrongly come to view their service as slavery, and have fled their masters in search of some delusional Utopia. Most escaped Gargoyles live in isolation, preferring solitude even to the company of their own kind."

I stopped for a moment, processing this information. So they're made from vampires... they're powerful, used in war... goddamn. My clan just grabbed some vampires and made them into superhuman slave-soldiers. That's kind of fucked up... and kind of awesome. I turned to the next page, to see what else they could create.

Homonculi. I saw a picture of a strange, gremlin-like creature, about the size of a cat, standing at attention on a desk, while a Tremere Kindred sat. The creature held out a pen and a notebook to its master. "For the most menial and mindless tasks, many Tremere create what is called a Homonculus. These are mindless creatures which take many forms: winged, many legged, or otherwise. Homunculi are unfailingly loyal, but due to their appearance are a serious threat to the Masquerade."

I was about to turn the page when my attention was interrupted. "Excuse me, Mr. Stauss is free to see you now. May I have your name?"

"Lucius Marshall, Childe of Serena."

He suddenly froze. He stared at me. "Excuse me a moment... you're Serena's youngest childe?" I nodded. She certainly didn't sire anyone after me. I guess I wasn't an only childe. "I... I see." The man pressed a red button on the desk and spoke into a 50s-style intercom. "The Kindred's name is Lucius. He says he is the childe of Serena. He only just informed me of this, or I would have let you know sooner." He released the button and reached over, lifting a wooden section of the desk, allowing me through. "Please, go right ahead. Don't worry about which route to take in the hallway – you'll reach Mr. Strauss any way you go. Oh, and if you could please return the book to the desk and sign the sign-in sheet, that would be greatly appreciated." I returned the book to its original position and signed my Kindred name for the first time. Lucius Marshall, it read. With an appreciative smile, I passed through into the Chantry proper.

The hallway was covered in beautiful patterns, and was painted a nice, soothing vermilion. The hall branched into a t-junction right after the door. On a whim, I took it right.

I saw a room, a small library. It was lit by a strange candle holder that held two candles at different heights. It sat atop an ornate table that held piles of books. A comfortable, green, luxurious chair that looked like something out of the 60s sat behind the table, next to a bookshelf. I considered exploring, but figured I shouldn't keep Mr. Strauss waiting – I could always come back on my way out. I continued down the hallway.

I came to a t-junction. There were various doors with no handles, with no obvious way to open them. I was confused. How can every way lead to the same destination? I took another right.

As I turned a corner, I felt dizzy and disoriented, and for a brief moment, I felt as though the essence of reality had ripped itself inside out. I swear I saw strange sparkles flashing for a second. Then I was rounding a corner to a hallway with Victorian couches on either side, followed by an ornate door, lit by what looked like twin gas lamps. I turned around, confused.

I saw a hallway stretching out in an unfamiliar path. I've never been here before... I took an immediate left, trying to find my way back. There was another t-juction ahead. I suddenly felt the disorienting sensations again. I found myself once again facing the same hallway, the same door. So when you're in here, you end up where they want you. Even space and time are at their control. Fascinating. I walked forward and stepped through the door.

The scene that faced me was comfortable and rustic. A fire blazed on the far wall. Luxurious turquose couches sat around a table topped with several books. The walls were adorned with windows that let in gentle light from the outside, but were themselves adorned with generous amounts of curtains – enough to keep out the sun during the day, should they be pulled down. On the far end of the room, a silhouette against the fire, stood Maximillian Strauss.

I approached slowly, almost reverentially. Strauss stood, tall, towering, and thin. His completely bald head held a red pair of tinted circular glasses, which only just failed to hide the fascinated eyes that were intent on studying me. He wore a red leather trench coat that stretched from the floor to his neck– it would look absurd on most people trying to pull it off, as it would look far too much like Morpheus from the Matrix, but somehow he managed. I'd be more inclined to say Laurence Fisbourne probably copied his look from this guy. Strauss exuded some kind of strange, static charge – as though he were full of power. He examined me carefully, no doubt analyzing my aura, studying me like an insect under a microscope. To my chagrin, I found that while I could activate Auspex here, it was very weak – I could barely make any of the aura out. I walked forward and stood near the imposing figure, unsure what do say or do, standing in awe of power I couldn't quite comprehend but which I knew I wanted to grasp.

Strauss broke the ice with a deep yet soft voice, every word carefully pronounced. "Greetings, Neonate. Might I assume you received my invitation? I have been looking forward to meeting you since I first saw you in the theater."

Oh, right... I remember him, up in the balcony, looking down with a blank, impersonal expression. "Thank you. I've been looking forward to meeting you since I saw your riddle in my haven. I am Lucius Marshall, Childe of Serena. I assume you are Mr. Strauss?"

He nodded, a twinge of a smile on his lips, the only sign of emotion on an otherwise blank face. "Correct. Maximillian Strauss. I am the Regent of this Chantry. Welcome."

"Um..." I already had several questions in mind, and I hoped that this conversation would lead to some answers or guidance. "...excuse my ignorance, but what was it you referred to me as? A Neonate? And, if I may ask, what precisely do the terms 'Regent' and 'Chantry' mean? I assume that a Regent is in charge of a Chantry, which is a clan Tremere house... am I correct?" It was strange, the ease with which I slipped back into my old role, feeling as though I was once again in Serena's haven, trying to ask questions even as I demonstrated my awareness, intelligence, and overall intellectual worth to her – struggling to earn the right to obtain more answers, further information.

Strauss moved his head back, hiding his eyes behind his glasses, becoming unreadable. "Ah, yes... forgive me. I forget that you were embraced so recently... your recent successes seem to be those of a far older Kindred. To say nothing of your grasp of Thaumaturgy at such a young age..." He let silence fall for a moment, leaving the question of how I had such knowledge hanging in the air. Strauss moved his head down and eyed me with a patronizing sympathy. "This new life in which you find yourself undoubtedly seems strange. I'm sure you have many questions. I will answer those which I am able." I felt almost overwhelmed – here was the first Kindred I'd met who openly offered me knowledge, a chance to not be in the dark. "As for the title which I called you by – Neonate – it refers to your age. Newly embraced Kindred are called Fledglings until such time that they are released from the care and supervision of their sire – a process which normally takes months to years. However, in your case, it seems you are quite capable of surviving and acting as a productive member of Camarilla society without the guidance of your sire, despite your young age – therefore, I refer to you as a Neonate, a title I feel you have earned."

I couldn't help but smile at that. Finally, some recognition of the absurd efforts I've been forced to slog through. "Thank you, Mr. Strauss. I appreciate the recognition. Um, should I refer to you as Regent Strauss, or…" I wanted to make sure that I was following correct protocol.

An amused smile crept across his face. "You may refer to me as Regent Strauss. We share the same blood, you and I, but you have much to learn about our clan." That phrase sent a chill through me – our clan. "That being said, you are correct in your earlier assumptions – a Regent is the leader of a Chantry, as well as the teacher to young Tremere Apprentices seeking to learn the mysteries of our clan. A Chantry is a local gathering place for those in the Tremere clan. I live here, as do some apprentices. It is the vehicle for Tremere to access Thaumaturgical supplies and books. In short, it is a library, laboratory, administrative center, and home... for those who have been fully embraced into the clan pyramid.

I can have access to all this... if I agree to be a part of... "Clan pyramid? What precisely is that? What does being embraced into that entail?"

He stared directly into my eyes, a serious look on his face. "The Pyramid is the social structure of the clan, with each level of advancement watched over by the next. There are Apprentices here at the Chantry, who are my charges. And I have a Lord, who watches over me and other local Regents. And so on..." I nodded, processing this data. So where am I in this system? Strauss answered the question in my mind. "In most cases, Tremere are very selective about who they embrace and how it is done. There are traditions and laws that we adhere to, so the circumstances of your embrace were, let us say, unconventional. Therefore, you are outside the pyramid. A most unusual and worrying situation – Tremere does not allow any outside our social structure to possess any knowledge of Thaumaturgy, and yet, here you are."

Right... couldn't make things more clear. I'm not a part of the system – I'm an outsider, and a dangerous one, because I have knowledge and secrets that only those inside the system should have. I kind of like that, though... it means I'm dangerous, that everyone needs to watch themselves around me. At the same time... I'm alone in the world, I have no support system, no allies. Regardless of my reservations, I should ask about joining, so that Strauss at least thinks I'm interested in being in the pyramid. "So how would I go about entering the pyramid? How do I become a part of my clan proper?"

I saw the smile creep onto his face, saw the way his eyes scanned me with deeper intensity. "Such things are possible, young one. Normally induction into the clan occurs immediately and automatically following Embrace. However, given the unique circumstances of your Embrace, you would be required to prove your worth to the clan before it would even be a consideration. Tremere guard their secrets well. However..." Strauss reached into a pocket in his overcoat and pulled out... a syringe. "...an excellent gesture you could make, one that would improve your chances of admission into Tremere proper, would be to offer up a sample of your blood. Such a sample is taken from each Fledgling upon their induction to the clan. Tremere would be far less... uneasy about your rogue status were you to freely offer such a sample forth. It would indicate a willingness to go through freely that which most are compelled to perform."

He held the syringe forth. I gingerly took it. This was a big step. "How exactly does having a sample of my blood benefit the clan? What information can you gain from this? What powers would it give you over me?"

The smile faded. "I'm afraid I'm not at liberty to divulge such information, as it would be a revelation of Thaumaturgical secrets to one not inside the pyramid – a serious violation of Tremere code. This is a matter of trust – either you give the sample freely, or... well, suffice to say, it will reduce your chances of being properly inducted into the pyramid."

I wavered. I had not expected to make a commitment this soon. I felt offended at the extent to which compliance was being all but demanded of me. No, I don't need this. I can research this stuff myself... I don't need to give up my freedom to them, not like this. I know what Serena would have wanted, but...

I suddenly felt dizzy... and I swear I saw an ethereal glimpse of something, like a pair of translucent targets... and the barest glimmerings of a whisper.

I shook my head to clear it. I looked back at Strauss, then at the syringe. What was I doing? The syringe. I was going to… to what? Give him a sample of my blood. Yeah, why not? It gives me a foot in the door. I took the syringe, stared at it a moment, then stuck the needle into my arm, pulled the plunger, and watched as my viscous black-red vitae was pulled into the plastic container. It would not occur to me until much later that my sudden change of heart was unusual.

When the syringe was full, I pulled it out of my vein and handed it over. Strauss offered me a friendly smile as he extended his hand and took the receptacle. "Excellent. I assure you that the clan appreciates this gesture, as do I." He removed the needle and placed the sealed container into a pocket on the inside of his suit jacket, under the overcoat. I felt a terrible sense of finality as he tucked it away, as though my fate had already been sealed. "Now, do you have any further questions, Neonate?"

I thought for a moment. I don't even know enough to know what questions to ask. "I'm not exactly sure. What's going on in Los Angeles right now?"

An annoyed look crossed Stauss' face. "Let me give you some advice, young one. Your survival in Kindred society will often depend on your ability to find out for yourself what is going on around you. Remember that well…"

I sighed, annoyed at the scolding. Of course I know I need to stay informed. But without context, how am I supposed to assign meaning to information?

Strauss noticed my sigh, and pursed his lips in disapproval. I lowered my eyes in deference. Strauss went on. "As for what is going on here in downtown Los Angeles, the word on everyone's lips, Kindred or kine, seems to be: epidemic."

Wait, what was that term he used… kine? Like cattle? Is that how he refers to humans? That's… real creepy. I put that thought out of my head, focusing on the issue at hand. "Ah. Hence the presence of the CDC personnel. And all the sick people. I was wondering about that."

Strauss eyed me askance. "Have you not yet been to see the Prince?"

I nodded. "Yeah, he was the first person I went to see when I reached downtown. Why?"

Strauss looked right and upwards. "I see... Strange, that he would not mention such an important fact – this epidemic significantly increases the difficulty of Masquerade maintenance. I assume that it must have simply slipped his mind..." Hm... or maybe he intentionally sent me out into downtown in ignorance, in the hope I'd screw up. And... is Strauss suspecting the same thing?

I thought carefully about how to word my next sentence – I needed to see where Strauss stood on this, but I knew I couldn't say anything openly. "So far, it seems the Prince has preferred to throw me into dangerous situations with little to no guidance – perhaps he's hoping that I'll mature more quickly this way?"

Strauss looked upwards, contemplating. "Hm... perhaps. There are many different methods of teaching the difficult and dangerous ways of the Kindred to those newly Embraced – I am not one to question the methods of the Prince in this matter, as he has generously offered to take on the responsibilities of your Sire, despite his already tremendous commitments. Still, were you under the charge of clan Tremere, rather than the Prince..." Strauss eyed me sideways. "...but I digress. The Prince seems to have done a a sufficient job of preparing you for this new existence."

I felt a bitter bile rise up in me at the thought that LaCroix could be taking credit for my successes, when I had in fact succeeded despite his best efforts. "I suppose. Personally, I attribute my success to the lessons Serena taught me – lessons which I still hold dear to my heart, and always will. Tell me... what was she like? I knew only what she showed me as a mortal. Do you know why she chose to Embrace me outside of the dictates of the Traditions?"

Strauss lifted his head, hiding his eyes, becoming unreadable. "Are you not interested in learning first about the epidemic, a matter of far greater practical import to your survival?"

I sighed. The effort to change the subject was obvious... but he was right. Maybe this is another test, like Serena used to give, to see how patient I could be, how long I was willing to wait and how hard I was willing to work to obtain the answers I desired. I nodded. "Of course. Necessity comes before all else. Please, continue explaining the situation – and thank you for doing so."

A small smile came on Strauss' lips, before his face became serious and unreadable again. "It seems that disease is spreading at an alarming rate among the downtown population. Considering our... appetites, the local Kindred are more than concerned about these recent developments."

"I see. But... again, forgive my ignorance, but aren't Kindred immune to disease?"

Strauss nodded. "Yes, indeed. However, the Vitae we ingest may continue to be infused with the disease which was infecting the kine – thereby turning the feeding Kindred into a carrier of said disease. While acting as a carrier does not directly affect the Kindred in question, becoming a vector for disease is far from a positive outcome – one ends up leaving a trail of sick and dead in one's wake. In earlier eras, the primary concern of the Kindred as regards an infected populace was the reduction of kine populations to dangerously low levels, leading to open war over the little remaining sustenance. This is still a concern, especially in a city like Los Angeles, where the Kindred population has reached such a level that the Kindred to kine ratio has become dangerously small – primarily thanks to all-too-frequent unauthorized sirings by local Anarchs." Strauss stopped himself and looked at me askance for a moment, suddenly aware how close to home that must be hitting. "However, in modern times, we have an even greater concern – bringing the attention of governmental agencies upon us. If, as is suspected, the activities of Kindred are responsible for this epidemic, then the Center for Disease Control is actively investigating the aftermath of Kindred activities – a serious threat to the Masquerade."

"I see. So does anyone have any idea what – or who – is responsible for this outbreak?"

"My opinion is that the local Anarchs are responsible for these outbreaks. Their precipitous indulgence of certain passions often leads to such things. Ergo, the need for the watchful eye of the Camarilla."

Wish I knew something about these Anarchs. They seem looked down upon, and Stauss paints a picture of them as irresponsible, but I can't help but respect anyone who would stand up to LaCroix. Then again, I'm not... maybe they're just dumb enough to say what everyone else is thinking. Well, I'll meet them soon enough at the Last Round. For now, I have to figure out how I can leverage this situation into gain on my part. "I'm actually heading to the Anarch headquarters at the Last Round – at the request of Prince LaCroix. While I'm there, perhaps I could ask around about the situation. I'll report anything I learn directly to you. And if I learn any way I can remedy the situation, I will take action to fix it."

Strauss now had a glint in his eye, and his face was now broken into an obvious smile. "Hm. An interesting proposition. If you succeed in finding the cause of this epidemic and putting an end to it – no small task, mind you – I will see to it that you are appropriately compensated for your efforts."

"I'm more than happy to help my clan and the local Kindred community. And the only reward I'd ask is the opportunity to gain further knowledge of Thaumaturgy, further access to your research records."

The smile faded, the unreadable expression returned. "What you ask is nothing small – indeed, for one outside our clan, it would be considered an impossible request. However, because you are partially within the clan – and may yet be within the pyramid proper – such things could be considered. Suffice to say, you will be properly rewarded for you efforts – this is not a task required of you simply to prove your place, but an optional service which you may provide your community, a service which will be appreciated more than you know."

Ah... very nice contrast he created there, between my involuntary work for LaCroix, and my voluntary work for him. Still... I do have to trust that the reward will meet the task. Ah well. This is hardly a commitment. Hell, I don't have to do this – I could just promise to try, say I could find nothing, and it still makes me look good. "I will trust the clan to reward me appropriately for my efforts."

"Very well. Again, I recommend speaking to the local Anarchs. As you are already aware, you can find most of them at the Last Round, reveling in the vices of their former lives."

I couldn't help but smile – everything seemed to be going quite well, for once. Maybe my luck is starting to change. "I'll come right back here as soon as I learn anything worthwhile. However, before I go, I have a few more questions..."

Strauss let a small sigh slip. I'd taken a lot of his time, but I needed more answers. "What is it you would like to know?"

"I'm very interested in learning about my Sire, Serena Marshall. I know she had extensive research projects underway, and I know she spoke a great deal about parting the veil and seeing a world beyond this one – but other than that, all I know of her are the many lessons she drilled into me. Lessons I'm grateful for – lessons I would be dead without, truth be told – but nonetheless, I very much would like to know about her as a person – er, as a Kindred. Did you know her well?"

"Unfortunately, not. She was a... private individual. She conducted her research outside the Chantry, in her personal Haven. While we have recovered all of her research documents upon her Final Death – thankfully before any third parties could attempt to scour through them – we have only begun to make sense of her encoded notes – and what this Chantry has learned I am not authorized to share with those outside the Pyramid. Suffice to say, despite the fact that she was not, in fact, a Regent, and therefore I technically outranked her, her rank of Apprentice was kept in place, from what I understand, simply to give her mobility. Unlike most of our clan, and indeed most Kindred, she moved from city to city, Chantry to Chantry – she answered to one above me, and was given complete freedom both to pursue the clan tasks assigned to her, as well as her own private research projects. As such, I am afraid there is little I can tell you about her."

I felt a small ball knot up in my stomach – so close, yet so far... but he has to know something! "Surely there's some light you could shed on who she was – did she have any other Children? How old was she? Did she do anything major for the clan you could share?"

I swear I saw a glimmer of sympathy flash across Strauss' translucent aura for a moment. "She had several Childer – Childer is the plural of Childe, not Children – before Embracing you, though I do not know their names. As for her research accomplishments – she had discovered numerous noteworthy Thaumaturgical capabilities and properties, none of which I am at liberty to share with you. As for her age... it is interesting you should mention that. Many remarked on the fact that technically, according to the traditions, LaCroix was not authorized to execute Serena, as she was, in fact, his elder. Indeed, you Sire was older than your nation."

I took a moment to take that in. My god... Older than my country? She was alive in colonial times? Or was she already undead by then? How many centuries old was she? Why would LaCroix execute an elder – especially if he technically wasn't even allowed to... "So how could he execute her if the traditions didn't allow him to?"

I could see Strauss' lips purse, see that he was upset by this issue as well. "The modern interpretation of the traditions essentially substitutes 'Prince' for 'Elder.' Usually, one who is older holds a more senior position in the political hierarchy. Serena, suffice to say, was more concerned with clan matters than with advancement in the Camarilla. Nonetheless, you are correct in that according to a more conservative interpretation of the traditions, an elder would be required to sit forth in judgment on the matter. It is especially unusual given the fact that this city, there are many Anarchs who have sired numerous illegitimate Childer. Anarchs who are given little more than slaps on the wrist – and have their Childer executed – because of political considerations. When viewed in this context, one can't help but wonder what personal matters betwixt the two may have been ultimately responsible for..." I could see Strauss catch himself, realize that he had revealed something he was not supposed to. "...but I digress. Such speculation serves no purpose – I suppose only LaCroix himself knows the truth of these things, now. It is not my place to question the judgment of our Prince."

It may not be your place, but I know you disagree with what happened. "So why was I spared? Since usually, it seems like the Sire is spared and the Childe is killed."

"I cannot know the inner workings of the Prince's mind. You should simply count yourself fortunate that the blade of his Sheriff did not fall upon your neck. Now, if there are no further questions..."

I certainly didn't want to overstay my welcome, but... "One final question – I know the dead can be contacted. I've exorcised a spirit from a hotel for the Baron of Santa Monica, actually. What about the spirits of dead Kindred? Is there any way-"

Strauss cut me off. "Final Death is considered absolute – death has already been cheated once. There are, of course, exceptions to every rule... but they are rare. I would not recommend investing effort in searching for such an exception – your Sire is gone. If that is all?"

I nodded, knowing he was wrong, but realizing that he didn't know anything about this matter. "Well, then, I'll be on my way to the Last Round. Thank you for all the information you've given me – Serena always taught me that understanding was the most powerful tool at my disposal. I hope that I will be able to prove myself worthy of joining the clan pyramid – and then, hopefully we can talk more freely about my Sire and Thaumaturgy."

Strauss allowed a shadow of a smile to come onto his face for the final time – and it remained until I left. "Indeed. May you find success in your efforts to cleanse this city of the taint of infection – and your efforts to join clan Tremere. Good evening, Lucius Marshall, Childe of Serena."

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Lucius exited the chantry. He stopped and pulled a bar napkin out of his pocket to read the directions to the Last Round Venus had written there. He decided, much to his detriment, to walk there, since it was so close, oblivious to how bad that part of town was.

Serena moved through the walls of the Chantry and floated above her Childe as he walked away. She sat cross-legged directly in front of the burning purple fire – in front of the Umbral nexus. She looked down and smiled at Lucius as he walked away, oblivious to her presence.

That almost was a disaster, she thought to herself. He'd nearly backed out, nearly ruined all her plans – quick intervention had been required. Sure, she had told him he could choose whether he joined the clan or not – as though she'd actually allow someone as young and inexperienced as him to make such a decision for himself. As though there was even a decision to be considered – he was going to join the clan. But she understood psychological principles enough to know that pressuring him would not produce the desired result – quite the opposite, actually. She'd managed to maintain a rather excellent idolization of her in her Childe's mind, which she should not squander. By giving him the illusion of choice in the matter, she increased her own esteem and drove him in the direction she wanted him – out of a desire to please her, rather than compulsion.

Even so, when he had nearly gone astray, something had to be done.

The most difficult part was manifesting only her eyes, directly in front of his – so close that they overwhelmed his vision, making identification impossible for her Childe. Furthermore, she had to make them appear close so that they'd be hard to differentiate from Lucius' eyes for Strauss. Oh, sure, they'd both seen something, but she'd kept it brief enough. Then it was a simple matter of Dominating her Childe into compliance with the barest of whispers, with an implanted thought he immediately forgot about. That was easy – it was not as though this was the first time she'd inserted a subconscious command or response-system into him, after all.

He's done rather well, all things considered. Certainly wouldn't have survived on his own, by any means – but he's still had to adapt remarkably quickly to strange and dangerous circumstances while maintaining enough equilibrium to survive and take instructions when necessary. He's proven remarkably intelligent and aware, as well – he's not just surviving, he's learning. I chose my final Childe well. It was a bit of a shock, to fully realize that even if she survived forever, she would never sire again. Still, surviving at all had been a miracle in and of itself. She still had to marvel at her ingenuity, taking astral projection and altering it in such a marvel way – tying her silver cord to her Childe's corporeal form in order to escape from oblivion, or whatever afterlife awaited Kindred – she really wasn't interested in finding out.

She laughed to herself about an irony in the whole situation – the way she'd siphoned off her own Childe's vitae in order to Dominate him. Of course, use of such blood-stolen powers had to be kept to a minimum, lest she drive her Childe into frenzy. But she had found other energies, other ways of altering her universe. And what a strange universe it was, on the other side of the veil. She'd spent most of the last half-century primarily astrally projecting, spying on whatever the clan had needed her to, researching whatever caught her fancy. But now she was even less restricted in what she could do, where she could go – she could pass freely back and forth into the Umbra... and beyond.

In a way it was simply a new form of existence which she was getting used to, much like her Childe. A new way to feed, new powers, new means of existence... maybe this is the rumored Golconda... or maybe it's something else entirely.

She could siphon no more energy from the Chantry for the time being without alerting Strauss. She was not yet ready to announce her presence to him – he would be more inclined to capture her and study her, or perhaps he would increase security around the Chantry to keep out spirits. Both were outcomes she wished to avoid until she knew she could manifest herself for a long period of time and definitively prove she was who she said she was. Until then, best not to lose a major energy source – and a means of looking through her old notes and Tremere reference materials. She just had to make sure no one noticed the randomly opened books, the pages occasionally turning on their own. When anyone came in on her research sessions she stopped all motion, and it all just looked like someone had left a project in the middle of research – a common enough practice in most Chantries.

"The roots of this city wrap around the great worm, and all who live in its stinking bowels bloat themselves upon apocalypse nectar!" They were the words of a madman, but they were not far from the truth. Perhaps he was an unprepared mind that simply saw too much – who can say? Nonetheless, there were many things that needed exploring. Far too many nephandic pits around Los Angeles for her liking – should such a delicate political tipping point be swallowed up by any of the many disasters that threatened, the global result could be catastrophic. She had to find out more about the situation developing in the shadows – further information was required before a plan of action could be calculated. Many such explorations involved danger – but she deemed them necessary. Her biggest fear was that while she was busy exploring these things, her Childe would get in serious trouble, and she would be unable to help him.

Ah well, I'm quite sure he'll be fine – after what he went through in Santa Monica, what could he possibly encounter on the streets of downtown Los Angeles that would prove problematic?

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Tune in next week, when Luicus gets lost in a bad part of town and has to ask for directions from some friendly locals! :D

Hello hello loyal readers. This chapter is long, dense, and full of juicy plot points, cannon, and backstory revelations. And we also have our first tense change in all of Bitter Escape!

Ash. J. Silver – Thanks! I'm always glad to see new readers who like my work. I promise this will keep coming for quite some time – though I can't make any promises about how often I update – life can get crazy sometimes... or all the time...

Flying Frog – Chunk is an awesome Bloodlines gem. I'm going to try and do some funny things with him later – but yeah, he's definitely settled in that security niche snugly – or maybe he's just too fat to get out of it XD. And I totally agree with you – Strauss is definitely my favorite character in the game, right behind Jack. Sorry, Beckett – as cool as you are, those two have got it going on. You can take the bronze medal.

Special Agent Orange – You're going to smile when you see the end of this chapter. And if you've been wearing a tinfoil hat so far, you're probably going to make yourself a tinfoil suit after you're done reading XD. LaCroix is trying some basic tricks here – keep in mind, he doesn't expect Lucius to be even aware that he's trying to have him killed yet – it's not something that's brought up until you talk to Nines in the game. No one knows that Lucius' sire is guiding him. Trust me, LaCroix has much better tricks up his sleeve. In fact, there's probably one right around the corner... As for the Beast going away, keep in mind that Lucius has been keeping himself well-fed lately. The Beast will come back, and it will probably be at the worst possible time for poor Lucius... Oh, and as for partying with the Anarchs – I know I'd be down, personally, but I don't know if that's Lucius' cup of tea – then again, being forced to do it would make him delightfully uncomfortable... hehehe, don't give me ideas, here. Thanks so much for your praise of my work – it's the appreciation of readers like you that makes writing this worthwhile.

Rednightmare – I'm glad you like what I'm doing with Mercurio – I always felt like the relationship between him and the PC could have been more developed and interesting. I can assure you that he will be playing a major role in Lucius' unlife from here on out. As for Lucius' attitude and his connection to his humanity – let's see how that plays out. Lucius' lump will be coming shortly – and by "lump," I mean "horrible, gore-filled torture at the hands of Sabbat madmen." As for Strauss' rhyming skills – I imagine he's got better things to do than write poetry. He probably whipped it out in like 5 seconds or something. Seriously, Kindred need to get over red in their decorations. Did you notice the way that Strauss and Abrams both had that same blood-red wallpaper? I could see why Strauss would have it – may have been in fashion back in the 1800s, when they decorated the Chantry – but Abrams? Seriously man, get with the times! Or maybe he's going for an ironic-retro kind of look. Speaking of things in poor taste, I found the neon sign with LaCroix's name to just plain be ridiculous – seriously, the whole tower is pure gaudy from top to bottom. Okay, enough talk about interior decorations, I'm starting to sound like a Toreador. Lucius is very aware of how delicate his position is, and you better believe he was doing nothing but practicing his lines on the ride over. I wouldn't call it out of character, so much as Lucius putting on an act. And yeah – you caught me – I totally stole Joelle from BB. I mean... let's call this paying tribute to my influences. Yeah, that sounds way more respectable. _ Speaking of stealing from your story, I almost want to write out how the Nocturne theater mess would have gone if his sire was that Serena – 100% pure awkward, plus I'm sure Nines wouldn't have bothered interrupting – never stop your enemy when they're making a mistake. All in all, a dramatic, awkward, bloody family murderfest. And on that note, let's get this started!

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