A/N: Here's chapter fifty-one! Time for the other half of the fic to begin…Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own Bloodlines, but I do own my OCs. There's a bit of rowdiness too, if you're not a fan, feel free to skim over it. Also, Akeem, and the quest he gives Edgar is part of the Final Nights Mod


The door to their room in the red tower closed after Ferrum walked in and kicked it shut, "Hey, Miranda?" He called out, having no clue where she actually was.

"Hmm?" She asked, "I'm in the kitchen, would you like something to drink?"

He walked into the kitchen, "Nah, I just wanted to tell you the Kuei-Jin are after me." He said, "Actually, a drink sounds good."

She stopped mid-pour, "The…the Kuei-Jin?"

"Yeah." He leaned against one of the counters, "It's my fault for going back to Chinatown after killing a bunch of 'em. I was asking for it." He said, then he added with a tone of frustrated shock, "Did you know they can use fire?"

She tried to hide her nervousness, setting a glass of blood on the table, and then sitting at the table with a glass of her own, "You need to be careful. Strauss warned me that you have a Masquerade Violation on your head…you're only allowed four more of those."

"Yeah, I got that when I was dealing with them. Damn, so I'm already in the dog house, huh?"

"It could be especially dangerous with the new league of hunters about." She said, taking a sip of her drink, "With the Kuei-Jin and hunters back…the Jyhad climate here is just as bad as it was when LaCroix was in power…"

He grabbed his drink and drank half of it, "They don't know I'm Camarilla. Hell, they don't know my disciplines. I used my war-form and I don't think he knew what the hell was happening."

"Some Kuei-Jin are more knowledgeable about us than others." She said, "It's fair to assume that they know as much about us as we know of them."

"…do…do we know much about them?" He asked, "I didn't know they could use fire…"

"I'm afraid the most knowledgeable Kindred on the subject is the Toreador Primogen."

"The Toreador Primogen?" He asked, "Huh…maybe I should give 'em a visit." He pulled over a seat and sat himself next to her, "Keep your friends close and your enemies closer, right?"

"I suppose so." She smiled, then it faded, "He's a rather…distant Kindred…if I were assess. He rarely speaks during any of the meetings."

"Well, that's alright. I don't mind quiet people. Or else I wouldn't end up with you, would I?"

She smiled again, "I suppose not."

He finished his drink, still not over just how rich it tasted, "I just wanted ta' apologize in case the Kuei-Jin launch some sorta' attack on us."

"It's an inevitability at this point." She said, taking a sip of hers, "The Kuei-Jin will soon try to take this city, as will the Sabbat. I've got a horrid feeling that something dreadful is about to come to a head."

"What kind of something?" He took his glass and brought it to the sink, rinsing it out.

"Well, Cadmus told me something. His sister returned to the Anarchs, so he was pleased about that. But apparently he heard from the Anarchs that the Sabbat are going to go through some sort of…rebuilding…a drastic reconstruction…it supposedly has a name and everything. The Phantom's Mask, they call it. It's apparently going to transcend to and affect all sects, in some sort of grueling bloody battle."

"The Sabbat has this planned?" He asked, sitting down next to her again, "Doesn't sound right."

"It came from one of their Malkavian Antitribu, so it's possible that it's not a planned event at all. It's most likely something horrendous."

He sighed, "That's what I'd bet on. The Prince knows about this?"

"I'm sure Cadmus is informing him as we speak." She said, "Gideon. That's the Malkavian who predicted all of this. The same Malkavian who defeated you and Cadmus with one attack…"

"Ugh…I feel the headache again…"

She finished the last of her drink, "This Sabbat is dangerously bloodthirsty to avenge Andrei."

"Yeah, really." He said bitterly, "Guess that's cause it's his childe in charge."

She nodded, "I have faith that we'll pull through this."

"We gotta come up with a plan." He said, waiting a beat, "I mean, not now."

"It's the first of June." She said, "And the Antitribu warned us that the Phantom's Mask will occur during the ides of June. So that would be in about thirteen days, give or take."

"Oh yeah?" He asked, having no clue where she found that deduction, "So we gotta act fast then."

"Yes. But I have faith in the Prince. He'll have something planned, I'm sure."

"Who knows, maybe he already does."

She chuckled, "That's fair, he always seems to be ahead of everyone else."

He sighed, then stood up and cracked his neck, "Guess I'm gonna go take a shower."

She nodded, "I'll be in the bedroom." His shower was brief, save for the good deal of time he spent washing all his hair, before he went in the bedroom. She was lying in bed with her legs crossed, reading a book. She smiled when he entered, moving aside slightly to give him more room.

He pulled the towel from his waist and draped it over the door, sauntering over in his birthday suit before he got in the bed next to her. She could feel the warmth from the hot shower water radiating off his body as he leaned over and kissed her cheek. Her smile grew, "You've become so strong lately…"

"Thank Beckett. Helped me with Protean."

"Is that right?" She asked, "From what I recall you telling me, you nearly reached war form."

"Yeah, turns out I'm a bear."

She hugged him, "I find that quite an appropriate animal for you."

"You think so?" He slung an arm around her and held her close.

"Mmm-hmm." She kissed him a few times in a row, "A very strong, proud animal."

"Don't inflate my ego too much er it'll burst." He grinned.

"I'll take that risk." She giggled.

"Well, did you want to keep readin' er…?"

She pulled her kimono undone, brushing it aside, "Perhaps not."

"How do you wanna do it?" He asked, sitting up a bit.

"However you'd like." She reached down and pulled her socks off, laying back on the bed.

"Anything you want?" He asked.

She uncrossed her legs, "No preference…" She sighed.

"Uh huh." His eyes narrowed, like he was picking around inside her soul before he moved down and started rubbing one of her feet. Her eyes widened before they closed, he heard a pleasant sigh from her as she relaxed where she lay. "Ah hah. I knew there was something." He held her leg with one hand and foot with the other, rolling around the ankle. "Shoulda' told me earlier, princess."

"I…I didn't want to impose…" She said meekly, most likely too soaked in ecstasy to completely think straight.

"Uh huh. Well, let me know if I'm doin' something wrong." He said before he moved to the other one.

"No…n-no…you're fine…" She said, eventually stuffing her pillow in her mouth and biting down.

"Fuck, that's hot…" He rubbed a bit harder, especially in the arch of her foot. She gave a muffled groan as she bit the pillow harder, melting into the sheets further. "Alright, I'll give you a break." He crawled up a bit and laid over her, pulling her legs around his waist as he kissed her lips. She tiredly hugged him back, pressing her sex against his lower abdomen so she could show him how soaked she was.

He snickered against her lips before he moved in and sucked at her neck, holding her hips to grind her up against his abs. She latched onto him tighter, sighing as she felt his muscular core up and down, "Steadman…" She moaned.

"Shit…" He felt blood buff rush through his system before he seized her hips and plunged into her. She gave a piercing scream, but it was a satisfying sound, mixed with a relieving one as well. She started a rapid rhythm, groaning and screaming Ferrum's real name as she felt his length burn inside her.

"Yeah, that's right." He grunted as he rolled her over so she was on top. While he did like practically digging into her, he loved having her set the pace and thrash on top of him. He kept his lips up against her throat meanwhile so he could feel her cries, before he rode out her final peak with his own.

She collapsed on top of him, her eyes closed, her body motionless for the most part. She gave him a faint squeeze, as before, she was ready for sleep now.

He rubbed a hand down her back, kissing her cheek, close to her ear so he could say softly, "Love ya to bits, Miranda." She gave the slightest of nods, before she presumably fell asleep on top of him.


This stranger in the Empire Arms Hotel was bothering Edgar for a while now. Even with his Obfuscate up, the man could see him clearly. So he decided to give up the ghost and confront him, risking a fight.

"You're Kindred, aren't you?" Edgar asked.

"A wise observation, Cainite." Akeem said, although it was hard to tell if he was being genuine or not.

"How come I haven't seen you around here? What's your story, stranger?"

"I have actually been in contact with quite a few Nosferatu in the city. Bertram Tung and I have made quite a few deals for each other."

"Bertram Tung?" Edgar asked, "Get outta town. I didn't know you knew him…" He said, "So…how come you're so gray…what clan are you…uh…"

"Assamite."

"Right, right, Assamite." He said, "Damn, my knowledge on the Independent clans are shoddy."

"That's the same for most Kindred in this city." He sighed, "But…most Kindred aren't interested in knowledge, they're interested in what they can bite…"

"Yeah, you're telling me…"

He narrowed his eyes, "If you're not busy, I could use a young aspiring Nosferatu like yourself to retrieve something for me."

"Alright, I got some spare time."

"There is an ancient text I've been looking for. I've spend the last century trying to get ahold of it."

"Last century? How old are you?"

He thought about it, "Four hundred years old…about…but, I honestly lost count." He shook his head, "It was written by an Inquisitor, and it has a disturbing amount of insight into how Kindred work and function. Luckily, there's only one copy of the book, it hasn't been published."

"So where is this book?"

"It's in the hand of the Inquisitors, or…today known as hunters I suppose. If my source is indeed correct, it is being held at an apartment by an Edgar Hirst."

"…wait…this hunter's name is Edgar…" Akeem nodded. "Alright, tell me where he lives, I'll kill him."

"I will show you the location, return the book and I will reward you handsomely for it."

He nodded, "Sounds like a deal."

Using Obfuscate, Edgar snuck into the Society of Leopold's hidden apartment base. Akeem warned him that they would be armed to the teeth, but he also said that killing hunters would look, 'good on his Camarilla resume', so he supposed there might have been a bright side to this after all.

A flaming bolt struck him right in the chest. Edgar coughed up blood and fell back. What the hell? How could he see through my Obfuscate!

Hirst was armed with a crossbow, as well as a holy cross, a few hunters flanking him, "Show yourself, spawn of Satan! I know you're out here."

Oh…that's right…True Faith…god damn it… He dropped his Obfuscate, sending out a few colonies of bats to easily kill the hunters surrounding him.

Hirst gulped, "T-This…this is your last warning! Devil! Surrender now, or else I'll—"

Edgar gave a savage roar, putting what blood he had left into powering up Potence, and swinging his sledgehammer at him. Hirst gasped and blocked with a katana. His grip was nervous and shaky, Edgar would soon easily find an opening and defeat this man.

What, is it this guy's first day on the job or something? Edgar wondered, he then swallowed hard as Hirst tried to fumble an aim with his crossbow while he was parrying Edgar's sledgehammer. Another hit of those flames would not bode well for Edgar.

He dove in and swatted both of Hirst's weapons aside, clobbering him to death with his sledgehammer. He waited a beat for Hirst's body to turn to ash, but then remembered that he was a human. He snickered madly as he took the book behind him on the counter, "I'll be taking that now, thank you for your business, Mister Edgar Hirst."


"Need someone to spot you, old man?"

Archie grit his teeth before he set the massive barbell back on the rack and sat up, seeing his son standing next to him, "What is it?"

"Why the hell are you at a gym?" He asked, sitting on the bench nearby.

Archie grabbed a water bottle and drank about half of it before he stood up, "What, are you mentally challenged, boy?" He asked in that wiry and all too unpleasant voice, "I need to stay on top of my game with these threats out in the air. This is war. What, have you been running from conflict your entire life?"

"But you can't fight." Killian said, "I don't get what the point is."

He wiped a towel over his face, then slung it over his shoulders as he started walking back to the locker room, "Whoever told you I can't fight is in for quite the surprise."

Killian watched as Archie walked back, then decided to wait outside the gym instead. It was only a few minutes before he came out, dressed in his red suit again. "What did you want? Why aren't you with Velour?"

"I wanted to talk about the assassination. Or, the attempt." Killian said as they began walking along the worn down sidewalks.

"What about it?" Archie snapped.

"Well…yeah. I didn't know what we were doing with it…"

"We haven't had a meeting since then. I believe Lafayette's been busy with a few side projects. I can't tell you something I haven't been told."

"You can tell me what you think's gonna happen. You've been involved in this for years."

"I think this Anarch and Camarilla nonsense is the perfect guise for an attack. It just depends who we feel we should tackle first. The cocky Camarilla, or the weak and terrified Anarchs."

Killian had to put his best actor's mask on, "Well, the Anarchs would go down the quickest, wouldn't they?"

"Interesting you suggest that." Archie said, "I think we should play the Camarilla route."

Killian thought for a moment, "Because they'd be more focused on the Anarchs?"

"No. That Prince they have now is quite sharp. He knows we're out to get him. It's his less controlled members of the group we need to take care of. Like that flamboyant Ventrue who's made his name known quite well." He snorted, "He should know about now that if he goes around and parades himself as a renegade, he'll only be killed."

"Vanderbilt?"

"I believe that's the name. When he falls, the Camarilla will take a hit. A considerable hit, considering the amount of people who follow his every whim."

"You didn't hear anything else about the assassination?"

Killian didn't like how long his father took to respond, the tone of his answer was unsavory as well, "No."

"Oh yeah?"

"Nothing that would be wise to take any action towards. All hearsay."

"Right." Killian stuck his hands in his pockets, "So, you got a regnant in mind?" When his father didn't respond, Killian added, "Time's tickin'."

"I get that." Archie snarled lowly, "I don't have many options. I've never made many close allies with those at the table." He said, "You're close to the Setite, yes?"

"Sirius?" Killian asked, "He tolerates me. Guess we have…similar tastes in humor." He lied.

"Tell him I'll make him an offer. He's not involved in DMP, is he?"

"No." Killian said, "He's got too much going on for that."

"Well, tell him it would make him a lot of money. Regardless, I'd like you to tell him I need a regnant. I'll pay him, of course, it's not a problem. He'll get regular monthly cuts that will more than suffice for the blood. If he joins DMP and helps me there, he'll get even more."

"You want me to tell him this shit? Why can't you?"

"You see him more than I do. Besides, it's much easier for Kindred to speak to Kindred, rather than human and Kindred, unless deals are arranged."

Killian contemplated the truth of that statement. He remembered all the ghouls that stumbled into the Last Round, lost out of their minds. Then he remembered Damsel fixing them up with something warm to eat and introducing them to Nines. Some of them would make loyal Anarchs, even getting Embraced for the cause. Others would cling to their old lives and never return. His gray eyes flickered over to his father. He certainly carried the pomp of Sabbat about him, the way he held his shoulders, his head. He wasn't a lost little ghoul that came into this world, relying on the help of others. He wasn't returning to humanity. He was a coyote blending into a pack of rabid dogs that was in it for the free scraps of meat left on the ribs. He was a deal maker, he kept peace and order, even, better than some of the actual Sabbat.

It occurred to Killian that his father was playing Jyhad better than any Kindred he knew. He still had his humanity, and he was still doing what he loved.

"You'll speak with him?" Archie asked, jolting him from his thoughts.

"Yeah. I'll talk to 'em."

"Good." Archie stopped at an intersection, a car passing by splashed water on Killian, "Go back to Velour and get yourself cleaned up."

"Yeah." Killian said, spitting muddy water from his mouth, "Call if you need me."

Archie waited there for his son to disappear into a taxi before he turned around and called for his own.

As soon as he got to his apartment, he grabbed for the landline. Of course, his phone would be considered, 'antique' by the kids. The spin dial, the tacky color. He picked it up and opened a cabinet nearby, getting out a cigar and searching for a lighter. It wasn't where it usually was, so it caused quite the scramble.

The line went dead. Nobody picked up. Once he found the pesky lighter, he lit his cigar and tried two more times to call, but nobody picked up again and again. Finally, he decided to leave a message. "It's Archie." He said, "Sorry the call's inconvenient. In the heat of the assassination, I'm sure you heard of my son's involvement. He must be playing a double-agent on us. I've spoken to him and asked him favors, he still seems loyal. If he's trying to dupe us, he's doing a terrible job of it." He took a puff of smoke, "But I say we wring the little bastard by the neck and let him play his games. He's working for the Anarchs, no doubt. I'm planning a…LaSombra-esque punishment, if you will. For now, I'd say our best bet is holding onto him. I won't invite him to the meetings, I won't give him any information. He'll do work for me at the snap of my fingers, and I'm sure the same would go for any of you. We might as well use him while we can." He said, then he added, "Call back when you get this. We need to have this discussion face to face." He said, before hanging up.

The silence of his apartment ate away at him for only a moment before he strode across the room and walked into the kitchen, opening one of the cabinets. It wasn't full of silverware, or oven mitts, or knick-knacks. It was full of strips of paper with phone numbers on them, and stacks and stacks of cash. He grabbed a handful of papers with numbers, sitting at the table and eyeing through them.

They were his girls' numbers. He had needed to sort through them for ages. Throw away the dead ones. Throw away the ones who didn't make enough. The man's memory worked like a machine when it came to matching numbers to faces, flipping through the little strips like nothing.

He was quite shocked with the fact that he held onto five numbers by the time he was done. He had to have discarded thirty of them. And yet he had five left, five that were giving him any sort of money. It was no wonder he was losing massive amounts of cash. Without Garret's support, he had five girls to his name.

The good numbers fell back into his drawer, and he took his cell phone out. His cell phone was for his more personal tasks, and for Killian. He had no messages from anyone, which meant his girls were doing just fine. He headed out the door and out to the streets.

He needed talent. He needed a girl like Velour to draw people to her like a magnet. But, prostitutes could only attract so much. Dancers, whatever Velour called herself. He knew if someone tucked enough money into that lingerie of hers, she'd spread her legs and then some. He tested the waters himself, but she didn't snap. But, the fact that she spent every waking moment with his son was enough of a sign.

He needed someone with a touch of class. Someone who didn't collapse at the sight of fear, or the prospect of failure. He needed someone hardened. Was it too much to ask?

He took a taxi, telling them to drive him wherever, just so he could think. It was dangerous for him to be out on the streets alone without Garret. If his regnant was hunted, he was likely being preyed on as well. Especially with his son in the Anarchs. If he was in a taxi, constantly moving wherever, he was safer. He was harder to pinpoint.

"Mind snuffing that out?" The taxi driver asked as Archie puffed his second cloud of smoke in the air. He waited a beat before he mashed the butt into the center console. "Thanks. Hard to see with the smoke."

"I'm not paying you to talk." Archie said, "Drive."

The girl he was looking for was likely a figment of his imagination. The perfect girl didn't exist. Every girl out there had either been touched by her father or neglected by her stepmother, leaving enough damage on her to make her undesirable to someone. It was infuriating. Nobody had the will to hold out and work with him.

He was stingy. He knew he was stingy. The five girls he had working for him were tough as nails, and they all complained. But he considered his occasional 'gifts' of a drug or drink of their choosing usually made up for it.

Besides, some girls would kill for fame. Even if their faces were on screen behind a DMP production, they were happy. Those were the kinds of girls he needed. His biggest fear was that girl number five would bale. And inspire four, and three, and two, and one.

"Casino work?"

"Works fine." Archie grumbled as the taxi came to a stop. He popped the door open and handed the man some cash.

"You're short…" The man thumbed through the bills and looked up at him expectantly.

"Short the cost of the cigar." He said before he slammed the door shut and walked off. The taxi slammed the horn on him, but he ignored it as he walked into the casino.

"Hi sir, can I help you?" She was new. She stood behind a little podium and everything. But her hair was too neat to be involved with anything he wanted. He ignored her and walked into the game room.

As usual, nothing appealed to him. A waitress walked over with a tray of drinks, "Hi."

He took one of the drinks, "How much?" He met her gaze. Warm hazel eyes, too innocent for his work. She wouldn't do either.

"Depends if you can hold it down." She smirked, "No one has yet tonight."

"Hold it down?" He asked, eyeing it over.

"It's hot. Really hot." She warned, "We call it the Fires from Hell."

He downed it and put the empty glass back on her tray, "So it's free now."

"That's right." She smiled warmly, "Only if you drink another."

"Sounds like a scam." He muttered, pushing past her and heading into the dining lounge.

What he would give to own a casino. Or, even just a club. A small, exclusive club, perhaps. He'd make a fortune, and he could get his girls involved, too. But the problem was real estate. It was tough to score a good location in places like these. Looking around this place, he could tell there were really no customers. A few stray idiots would mosey by. He was sure the place was losing money.

The idea of gaining money would overpower the chance of succeeding, he was sure. If he bought into a place like this and splurged to make it appropriately appealing, he would fork out a considerable amount of his fortune. And if the people grew bored, there was no saying if he would make it back.

Well, if his plan went accordingly, he would have the real estate. And he would have it very soon. His problem was the customers. He would likely never see the amount of customers Vesuvius saw on its worst day.

A figure stepped up on the stage, tapped the mic a few times, then started singing. Archie's thoughts were roused as he looked up and watched the figure.

She was slim. Slim, like, not eating enough, slim. Maybe it was the black cat-suit. Her hair nearly touched the floor, it was straight and smooth like a curtain, dark as night. Her skin was pale as snow, her eyes were like shining blue stars.

And her voice was something that struck Archie for some reason. It wasn't as if he was upset by it, or that it emotionally stirred him. It was the potential that she had, but what would he do with it?

He'd talk to her as soon as she got off. And judging from the cheering from the crowd, he wasn't the only one mildly impressed with her soaring vocals. She thanked everyone with a thick mysterious accent before she disappeared off the stage.

Archie struck, standing to his feet and pushing his way back stage. He bustled past a few wimpy security guards before he entered the dressing room.

She was sitting at a vanity, her face even sweeter looking and innocent when she looked over at him, "Hey." Her speaking voice settled at a nice range, smooth and deep, "I 'ave a feeling you're not supposed to be 'ere."

"Mmm, perhaps you're right." He said, "The name's Archie." He held a hand out.

"Aschat." She said slowly, shaking his hand.

"Your voice is something I've never heard before. Certainly special."

"Oh, tank you!" She exclaimed, "Are you a…ah…ah…wha' do dey call you? An agent?"

His grin widened, "That's certainly one way to put it." He eyed her figure over briefly.

"So, so how does dis work?" She asked, taking a make-up wipe and wiping her face and neck clean. He was taken back to see tattoos there, hidden beneath a copious amount of make-up. They looked like something tribal, like something he had seen on people's faces when Native Americans marked them as property. And the hickies on her neck were another telling sign.

He adjusted his tie, "Depends. The job I'm asking of you requires more than just singing."

She cocked her head to the side, "More dan singing? I can't do much more." He saw cigarette butts in her garbage, other joints crinkled up as well.

He looked at the marks on her neck, "Doesn't appear that way?"

She held the bruises briefly, then smiled, something sinful and nearly sinister on her sweet looking face, "That's something anyone can do."

"Oh, sweetheart, you'd be surprised." He snickered, leaning in, "How's this. I'm getting ahold of a club soon, within the next month. I want you to stay in the area. Hell, I'll buy you a hotel room. You work for me, ten dollars an hour."

Her eyes widened, "For what? What will I do for you?"

"I think we can make arrangements for that." He smirked, "Miss Aschat." He stood up and headed for the door, "Because once Vesuvius is mine, the possibilities will be endless…


A/N: So in case you were wondering, this is basically all the sides at this point XD:

Camarilla

Anarchs

Sabbat

Madame Vaska

Donatello and the Baali

Giuseppe and the Giovanni

Archie(?) (Kinda.)

Sirius(?) (I don't even think he knows what he's doing)

Independent

Kuei-Jin

Society of Leopold

There will be a quiz on this tomorrow. Thanks for reading!