"It has begun,"
The words were spoken by a shadowy figure seated in an ornate
wooden chair. A long black silk robe draped around him as he sat
gazing through a window that looked out upon the murky city of
Detroit. His pale white lips formed into a small smile, soon he
would have another favor, soon he would be even more powerful. He
didn't actually wish to control this city, but it just
wouldn't do if his lady arrived and found him incapable of
offering her more than simply poetry. Now poetry and a city, Ah,
that is a sweet drink indeed. He watched as the first drops of
rain began to beat against his window, dripping down like tears
upon a crystal face. He paused and repeated the words to himself.
He glanced at a nearby grandfather clock. He had time to start on
the first few stanza's of a poem before his attention would
be needed for the plan. He silently headed towards his workroom.
Reginald ran his hands through his finely groomed brown hair as
he glanced around the dark parking garage. As a member of Clan
Ventrue Reginald felt far more at home holding meetings in
boardrooms, rather then dumps like this. Stillif the news
was all it was rumored to be. Reginald shifted his grip on the
briefcase full of money he held and glanced out to the rain
drenched streets. Damn! It was really starting to pour. He turned
back around just in time to see a figure blend out of the
shadows. Howard, at last. Reginald quickly scanned the
insufferable Caitiff in order to make sure he wasn't hiding
any weapons, not that Reginald was particularly concerned about
what a thin-blood could do to himbut it never hurt to be
sure.
"Hey Reggie, what's the good word?" said Howard.
Reginald scowled at the Caitiff. "The good word left twenty
minutes ago, you're late!"
"Geez, sorry, but for some crazy reason the Sabbat
don't like to be rushed."
The off-hand reference to the dreaded Sabbat rocked Reginald on
his heels and reminded him why he was here.
"I have the money, do you have the information we spoke
of," he asked.
"No worries Reggie, I got it all here," Howard pulled a
sheaf of papers out from inside his torn jacket, "And
believe you me, it's well worth the price."
Reginald stalked closer to the shorter Caitiff and glared down at
him. "It had better be, for your sake." He held out the
brief case and his free hand. Howard dropped the papers into the
open hand while also snatching up the case. Both quickly opened
their respective package to make sure all was in order. It was.
Reginald folded the papers neatly and placed them in his Armani
coat, Howard was busy trying to conceal the case under his
jacket. Reginald turned away and walked calmly back to his
waiting Bentley, he smiled, it seemed that tonight was going to
go well after all. Howard watched Reginald leave, he then turned
and rushed back to the limo waiting for him in a nearby alley. He
slide his dirty wet body in, hardly caring what it might do to
the immaculate leather.
"Let's go toots," He proudly ordered as the driver
pulled out into the pouring rain.
Three hours earlier
Michael Cooler paced back and forth in his office tugging at
the tie around his neck, he had foregone his usual biker garb in
order to make a good impression upon the other Sabbat leadership
and now the bastards were apparently going to be late! His green
eyes flashed to the rooms only other occupant, an elderly man
twirling his white mustache and apparently unconcerned of the
lateness of the others.
"Where the fuck are they!" demanded Cooler, "I
told them the meeting was to start on time damnit!"
"Relax," advised Charles Payne, bishop of Windsor,
"They are appearing late exactly because you advised them to
be on time," He paused as the sound of screeching tires
floated up into the office, "see? Here they are now."
A few moments later the doors were slammed open as Cal Jericho
stormed into the room, Cooler sighed in annoyance. "Hey
Cooler, how's it going," asked Jericho, "Must be
pretty busy, what with you not having time to get one fucking
messenger to swing by and tell me about this little raid you have
planned!"
As he spoke the templar stormed towards Cooler until he stopped
inches from his face, Cooler saw his own frightened reflection in
the templar's sunglasses and quickly regained his composure.
"Why Jericho, I was unaware I was obligated to tell you
anything," Cooler calmly stated, "After all templars
usually are merely bodyguards to bishops and arch-bishops,"
He emphasized the word and Jericho, reminded of his unstable
position in Detroit, slowly drew back.
He walked over to the far end of the table and took the other
head chair, plopping his boots soundly upon the ancient oak table
and spraying mud upon it. "Just try to keep me better
informed in the future," the templar smirked.
Cooler clenched his teeth in frustration, but forced himself to
sit calmly down at the other end of the table. Even as he did so
there was a blare of a trumpet as Knight Bishop St. Johns and six
of his "knights" paraded into the chamber. The Lasombra
"bishop" bowed slightly to Cooler, and then promptly
went and sat at Jericho's end of the table. Cooler coldly
noted how the templar had set it up so as to make the other
leaders choose between him and the arch-bishop. Cooler made a
mental note that St. Johns would regret his choice. Within the
next few minutes the other Sabbat leaders arrived, the observer
from Lansing, Bishop Deanna, the crazed monster child Justin the
Saint, the Ventrue bishop Jane Doe, and a small collection of
pack ducti. When it was all said and done most of the upper
echelon leaders sat near Cooler, more of the ducti sat with
Jericho. The last to arrive was Anne Arbor, the Black Hand
commander for Detroit. She just seemed to appear standing in one
of the shadowy back corners, and didn't bother to take a
seat.
"Anne! Why don't you come sit here," shouted St.
Johns as he forced one of his knights out of the seat to his
right, he beamed his ingratiating smile up at her.
"Why don't she come sit here," Hissed a heavily
pierced Tzimisce as he pointed at his own lap. One of his
packmates slammed her knife down in between his legs.
"Show some fucking respect Rip!" She growled.
He laughed and apologized for making her jealous. Meanwhile a
brief scuffle erupted between a Ventrue, and Lasombra pair of
ducti. The fight ended with the Lasombra pulling a knife from his
chest, while the Ventrue tried to fix his broken arm. Justin
stood up on his chair and began to give an impassioned speech on
why Sabbat shouldn't fight amongst themselves. His
collection of guards and sychphants cheered at all the right
times, everyone else ignored him. Justin didn't seem to
notice either reaction. Jericho started to exchange war stories
with a few of the ducti near him, making sure to proudly mention
his own accomplishments. Finally Cooler figured most of the
jockeying had been finished and raised his hands for silence. His
end of the table replied instantly, though the reaction came
slower the further down the table one went. It eventually took a
whack to the head with a bat to quiet the last talker.
"It is good to see we are ready to begin to map out the
strategy for this raid" Cooler began.
"Why bother!" shouted Jericho, "I say we just roll
into town and toast any Camarilla we see, we could control the
city by the end of the night!" His outburst was met with
supporting cheers from the ducti. Cooler's green eyes
narrowed as he glared at Jericho.
"That plan would appear to be very foolish," snapped
out Charles Payne, "If we were to do so what would protect
us from any hidden ghouls that emerged during the day?"
Michael nodded approval at Payne's comments.
"Also," Payne continued, "There are still some
elders within the city that could cause problems if we tried to
deal with them simultaneously." Jericho frowned as Payne
continued, "That is why we have arranged to send in a pack
to destroy one of the city's elders, thus weakening it for
an attack later." Many ducti nodded at the wisdom of these
words. Jericho simply leaned back in his seat, conceding the
point.
"That is why I have called you here tonight," Cooler
said, "For I recently uncovered a scout who is willing to
tell us the location of the Brujah elder Jaynie," He waved
his hand as the Caitiff scout Howard slowly walked out of the
crowd. "I would like to thank this noble servant to our
cause for all the dangers he has faced to bring us this
information," Howard pulled out a few pieces of paper from
his torn jacket and placed them upon the table. Even Cal Jericho
leaned in to see them clearly. Cooler smiled to himself as all
eyes turned to him for the next step in his plan.
"I'll drop the bitch if at least one pack's
willing to go in and back me up," declared Jericho.
"Now hold on templar," growled Cooler, "I have
already devised a plan!"
"I'm sure you have, but this Brujah dope is hardly
covering her ass well enough to be any problem, all I need is
some guys to back me up and claim some of the glory for ripping
her damn head, off its damn shoulders!"
The ducti roared as Jericho leaped on the table as he gave his
speech. Quickly he outlined his battle plan, all the while pacing
upon the table and demanding total attention. The ducti ate it up
and almost all of them volunteered their pack for the mission.
Cooler sat in his chair, seething with rage at seeing his moment
of glory being snapped up by Jericho. Glancing across the room he
saw the perfect implement for revenge.
"Ah Jericho, it is good to see you so eager for battle, yet
I worry that you are perhaps being a bit overconfident in your
abilities." Jericho spun around to look at Cooler, who still
sat in his chair with a smile on his face. "I think your
plan is a good one, but, I also think you should take some extra
back-up." Jericho was now staring directly at Cooler,
distrustful of his every move. "Therefore I suggest you are
accompanied by" Cooler's hand started a slow pan
of the room Jericho spun to glance around eager to find out what
soon to be dead fool Cooler was about to shove on him. "Anne
Arbor, our own Black Hand agent and master assassin," Cooler
finished with a barely surpressed chuckle.
Jericho's eyes narrowed in anger, while Anne's lifted
slightly in surprise. Anne glanced at Cooler and realized there
was no way he would be talked out of this course of action, she
gazed up at Jericho who stood outlined against the lamplight and
sighed.
Present
Jericho stood a top one of the walkways that comprised The Bloodrun, the site of his battle with a large batch of Camarilla ambushers, he loved to bring any raiding party he lead through this area, just to remind them of who he was and what he could do. He whipped his head back to shake some of the heavy rain off of his shades, then spun around and dropped softly twenty feet to the ground. Lurking in the alley were the eight members of The Rat Removers, and the silent dark figure of Anne. Jericho glanced at each of the Rat Removers. They dressed in black leather and were carrying an assortment of shotguns, automatic pistols, and sub machine guns. He then glanced over at Anne, who had been keeping her eyes on the street (she seemed damn nervous to be in Camarilla turf for a supposed Black Hand badass, at least in Cal's opinion) He eyed the heavy black trenchcoat she wore, it concealed her lithe leather clad body, and he suspected at least half a dozen weapons. Her long black hair was now plastered to her pale skin, and he suddenly caught himself eyeing the graceful curve of her neck. He shook himself out of his daze in time to realize she was staring back at him, he quickly turned away from her and began to issue his usual marching orders. Keep together, if separated meet here, don't let yourself frenzy during the fight, and don't ever cross one of his orders. Finally Jericho felt that his men were ready, he motioned them to follow him, and set off into the soaking heart of Detroit.
Howard sat in the limo and watched as Grand Circus Park rolled
by outside the window. He suddenly jumped as Danae took a sudden
sharp turn into a wall of ivy. Damn! If that didn't always
make him think he was about to hit the wall. But sure enough the
driveway of the old mansion was right there. Danae smoothly
stopped the limo before the front doors, and quickly hopped out
with an umbrella and opened Howard's door for him.
"Thanks sweet thing," he chuckled, amused as always by
the level of treatment he received here. And why shouldn't
he? After all he was a highly skilled spy, as good at Obfuscate
as any stinking Nossie, and unlike them he knew how to keep his
mouth shut about deals like this one. He followed Danae into a
large sitting room, on one side there burnt a massive fire in the
fireplace, on the other were huge bay windows looking out on a
large well tended garden. The far end of the room held a massive
grand staircase that flowed down into the room like the tongue of
some great beast. The only light was from the fire, and the
windows. Danae motioned him to sit in an ornate chair facing the
stairway.
"Fuck, I know it ain't my business, but can't your
boss buy some fucking electrical lights, y'know cheer the
place up?" Howard asked as he sat in the chair with a wet
squelch, staining the old velvet cushions. He glanced up at
Danae, but she didn't answer. "Well fuck you then, I
guess I'll just chat with the walls or something."
Howard tilted his chair back with a creek as he rested, waiting
for the appearance of the rest of his payment.
The Pulse was really starting to rock tonight! DJ Scream
stopped one record, and as he went to slam in another the entire
club seemed to fill and fade with purple light, the
"pulse" that gave it its name. Jaynie sat easily in a
rear booth watching the flow of action on the dance floor as a
song by The Cure started to blare over the massive speakers set
in the walls. She watched Vince, one of the younger Brujah, strip
off his shirt as he writhed between two pretty young things,
someone would be eating good tonight she mused. Jaynie smiled as
a shadow fell across the table. She pushed her blonde hair out of
her face as she glanced up at the two figures. Doc and La Belle,
the chief anarchs of Detroit. Doc was wearing his usual somber
black suit, and that outlandish cowboy Stetson he insisted on
wearing. A clove cigar was in his mouth, and he was currently
shuffling a deck of cards. La Belle, whose full name was La Belle
Dame Sans Moris', but Jaynie never bothered with that
particular tongue twister. La Belle was dressed like a scummy
kid, as usual, and the bottom half of her plaid shirt was wide
open, revealing her taunt belly as well as part of the angel
tattoo that graced it. (Jaynie often wondered where La Belle had
chosen to fit the angel's lower half)
"Bonsoir Madame Jaynie," Belle greeted.
"Good to see you could make it," Jaynie laughed as she
slid back to make room for the pair. "Merci," La Belle
said as she slid in as well, Doc merely shifted his back to a
wall so he could watch the exits (Jaynie noted it also put him
behind her). "I do try to make it simple for my beloved clan
to contact me."
Jaynie nodded at the soft spoken French-Canadian's words.
"To get straight to the point Belle, I thought you may have
wanted to know that Steven is becoming very annoyed at the
anarchs actions of late sinc"
"That is very bon," La Belle cut in "Perhaps now
the prince will not be so déraisonable the next time we make
demands, he can not expect us to die on the streets for him while
he"
"Yes," Jaynie interrupted, "I know you think
he's just using you for cannon fodder, maybe he is, but he
thinks you are useful fodder at the moment. If he even once
decided you were more trouble then you were worth he would order
Octavian to run you all out of town, or maybe just use you to
dust a sunrise."
"Ahh, I see you are concerned over mis amiees, but I do not
think you realize how much trouble we go through every
night." La Belle countered.
Jaynie sighed inwardly, this was going to be a rough
conversation.
Howard was checking out Danae's ass when a rumble of
thunder jerked him back to the staircase. Standing at the top of
the stairs was a tall pale figure. His long black silk robe
billowed about him, blown by the wind from the suddenly open
windows. His white hair whipped about his face as he seemed to
glide down the stairs towards Howard. Howard gulped slightly, his
throat having gone dry.
"Uh, hey Doshaine, how's it hanging?"
The ghostlike figure was lit on one side by the flaring orange
warmth of the fire, and by the cold night sky and lightning on
the other. His milky orbs slowly descended to gaze upon Howard.
Howard squirmed slightly.
"It is done." A, statement not a question.
"Yeah, no problem," Howard replied. "And
Reginald?" "He bought it, just like you said."
Howard relaxed when Doshaine finally allowed a tiny smile on his
inhuman face. "Yep, those Ventrue pukes will snap up
anything you make them have to pay for," Howard patted the
suitcase, "And Cooler didn't pay too bad neither,"
he patted his vest pocket. "So, I guess I better collect my
payment from you, and then get the hell outta town, right?"
"You are sure no one else saw you?"
Doshaine quietly asked as he moved towards the windows. This
relaxed Howard for it meant more of Doshaine's face that was
visible to him had the warm light of the fire on it.
"Are you kidding? Why do you think I charge what I do?"
"And the Sheriff, Octavian, did you avoid his eyes?"
Doshaine pressed.
"Fuck the Sheriff, he couldn't find me if I tied a
ribbon on his finger and shoved the other end up my ass."
"What about the prince, you of course presented
yourself."
"What am I? Some Camarilla bitch, naw the prince can go fuck
himself," Howard laughed. "Course I better get going,
you do have the rest of my payment, right?"
A black blur spun across the room, and before Danae could blink
Doshaine stood behind Howard with his clawed hand protruding from
the Caitiff's chest.
"He had ruined the chair already," Doshaine murmured as
he drew his hand out, he then sank down and plunged his fangs
into Howard's neck. Danae jumped as Doshaine spun back
around towards her, lightning crashed outside, revealing his
white lips to now be stained crimson. He grinned at her,
"clean up this mess then come join me in the garden."
His cloak billowing around him, Doshaine stepped into the pouring
rain. The pounding water began to cleanse the stain from his lips
as he looked skyward. And smiled.
La Belle finally held up her hands towards Jaynie and Doc,
"Mercy, mercy," she said shaking her arms back and
forth.
"Are you conceding the argument, or thanking me?" asked
Jaynie, "with all the French I can never tell."
"Perhaps I do a little of both," Belle said, "In
any case I shall try to reign in some of our more, how you say,
rambunctious members." Jaynie nodded at her, thankful that
Belle was an intelligent as well as violent leader.
"Hey babes, what's going down?" Came a loud voice
from across the club.
All three Brujah turned to spot Francis and Evelynn approaching
them. Francis was Brujah, and wore black leather, had his hair
spiked and dyed purple, and wore a pair of funky little red
glasses. Evelynn was a Toreador who sympathized with the Brujah.
She was dressed in grunge clothing, and had her blonde dred-locks
dyed green and yellow tonight.
"Lookit me, I gotta babe you see," said Francis as he
spun Evelynn around. She laughed and punched him playfully. Doc
rolled his eyes slightly, while Jaynie and Belle grinned.
"Good to see you are in good spirits tonight Francios,"
said Belle, "could you maybe get the word out I want to meet
the rest of the guys down in the usual spot at two?"
Francis rolled his head back. "I can't believe this
shit, I get together with my main squeeze for one flippin'
night and now I gotta play messenger boy."
"Don't worry Francis, I'll come with ya,"
whispered Evelynn in his ear. She ran her hand across his chest
suggestively. Francis waggled his eyebrows.
"Well on that note, no problem. Oh and it's Francis not
Francois, I don't need no damn gay rep following me
around!"
Francis turned and made his way back through the crowd. As Jaynie
watched him go she spotted Apollo, one of the ghouls of the
Toreador elder Doshaine enter the club. Apollo looked around till
he spotted Jaynie, and then made straight for her. She frowned,
this could only mean trouble.
Reginald was feeling on top of the world. He now commanded a large force of ghouls as he gave them a stirring speech about their mission tonight. It had taken some favors being called in to arm them all, but once he took out a Sabbat raid lead by Cal Jericho he would be rocketed up in position in the prince's court. He finished his pre-battle speech (and he felt it properly stirred the men) and then motioned them to the waiting vans. Tonight he would make a name for himself!
Jaynie sat across the table from Apollo, the handsome young
man appearing quite at ease despite the fact Jaynie had just
threatened him.
"You mean to tell me I'll owe your boss a favor, but in
return he promises to save my life?"
"Very well put," replied Apollo, "I just must ask
you to sign these forms here, and initial here, here, and
here."
Jaynie quickly read over the papers, and realized the simple
contract did exactly what Apollo said it did. Promise to save her
life in return for favors to be called at a later date.
"All right, gimme the pen," she said reaching towards
him. She looked up in surprise when he dropped a small knife into
her palm.
"My master believes any important documentation should be
signed in something more important then mere ink." Apollo
said as way of explanation. Jaynie smirked and quickly poked the
knife into the palm of her hand, she the signed the papers with
the tip and looked back up at Apollo. He smiled at her, "On
your walk back to your haven you pass through an alley between a
Kwik-Mart and a drugstore, do you know it?" Jaynie nodded.
"A Ventrue called Reginald will be waiting there with many
armed ghouls, he plans to execute you in order to weaken the
Brujah of the city." Jaynie paused thinking,
Reginaldoh yes the punk neonate who thought he was better
then everyone else. She nodded to Apollo,
"Give your master my thanks, but I have some business to
take care of now." She stormed back towards the other Brujah
in the club, "Hey guys, who wants to go kick some Ventrue
ass!"
Apollo pulled out a cell-phone and pressed a speed dial button.
"Phase two complete," he hung up and quickly left the
club.
Danae stood under her umbrella as the rain beat off of it,
Doshaine was standing motionless in the middle of a tile mosaic
of Christ and the crucifixion. Doshaine had stretched his arms
out and struck a pose identical to that of Jesus.
"Master," Danae said softly, "Master, Apollo
reports success."
Doshaine slowly lowered his arms, his silk robes now sticking to
his thin form. He turned towards her and his eyes met hers for an
instant. Danae nearly collapsed from the brief connection to her
master.
"What," she gasped, her heart beating, "what
should I do now?"
Doshaine turned back to stare up into the storm. "Now?"
he whispered, "Now we wait."
He closed his eyes as Danae fell silent, Doshaine urged his soul
to fly, and soon he was rising out of his body, the better to
control events, in a flash he flew across the city towards the
ambush site.
"Get your fucking ass outta my face," Hissed Jericho
as he slipped towards the edge of the barber shop roof. Anne
turned towards him, her green almond shaped eyes fiery with rage.
Jericho smirked at her, "hey don't get so pissed, I
didn't say it wasn't a nice ass," so saying he
slapped it and moved forward to get a better look.
The Rats all chuckled and went back to waiting. Anne slid
silently back and stared at Jericho's exposed neck, she
gripped the hilt of her blade, but willed herself to stop. She
wasn't about to let Jericho force her to lose her composure,
she contented herself with picturing all the things she would
like to do to his face. Jericho suddenly tensed as he spotted two
figures moving into the alley. One with spiked purple hair and
little red glasses, the other with multi-colored dreds.
"If those two ain't Brujah, I'm a fucking
lupine," said one of the Rats as he slowly raised his TEC-9.
Jericho quickly raised his hand to stop him, and gazed down at
the aura's of the two figures. Pale, they were Kindred all
right.
"I can't believe that she only has one guard,"
scoffed Jericho, "hang on, I'm gonna try to take them
alive!" So saying he leapt over the edge of the roof to
splash down in a large puddle. "Freeze, you Camarilla
grab-asses." He ordered as he slowly stood to his full
height.
"Who the fuck are you?" Demanded purple spikes. Colored
dreds slowly slipped back behind him.
Jericho smiled and started to speak when a black form dropped
silently behind the girl. Anne quickly hooked her in a throat
lock that smeared some blood across her neck. The girl hissed in
surprise, but was suddenly drooping as though she had no strength
left in her.
"Fucking bitch!" bellowed purple spikes as he swung
around, whipping out a Glock as he did.
In a blur Anne snapped up one leg and kicked the pistol from his
grasp, she also whipped out her hands, two steel bars slid from
her coat sleeves into them. She swept them in, crosswise, to
connect at his left knee. Purple spikes grunted in pain as his
knee crumpled, Anne spun behind him and lashed out another kick
to the side of his head. The blow sent purple spikes rolling
against a nearby wall, dazed and confused. Jericho blinked in
surprise as Anne swept up the fallen gun, the rods were
apparently built into her gloves as they slid back into place.
Anne had the gun trained on purple spikes head even as he
regained his senses.
"Fuck me," he muttered as he slowly raised his hands.
Jericho stormed in towards Anne. "What the hell is this
bullshit! I said I'd capture them!"
Anne kept her eyes on the downed Brujah, "Oh, I'm
sorry, it looked like you were taking so long that I figured you
were sick or something."
"Real funny," growled Jericho, "almost as funny as
you trying to act tough to me." He stalked up till he
towered directly over her smaller form. "Do you know how
quickly I could crush you, if I ever wanted to." He asked in
a deep throated growl.
Anne glanced briefly at him but kept her attention on the Brujah,
"Why don't you relax Jericho, after all I out rank you
even though I was kind enough to follow your lead for most of the
mission."
"Most of the mission?" he said in shock, "bitch,
your stuck-up ass waited till the best part before dropping in
and ruining things!"
Anne gritted her teeth as she kept the gun trained on purple
spike's head, "Get a grip, just because you need to
grand stand doesn't mean that you attacking alone was the
best way."
"Oh, and you attacking alone was?"
"I had surprise on my side,"
"I had it under control,"
"You need to get your ego under control,"
"Fuck you and the dumb shit who embraced you!" hissed
Jericho.
Anne scowled and spun towards him, shoving the pistol into his
face. Jericho quickly grabbed her hand and twisted the gun from
her grasp, his other hand snapping around her throat and
effortlessly picking her off the ground. "You gonna say
something, Black Hand bitch?" he asked smirking. Then he
felt the point of a knife prodding into his belly, he glanced
down to see her other hand holding a slim knife, darkened with
blood, against his stomach. She smirked back at him. Meanwhile
Francis had been pushing healing blood into his knee, and now he
saw his chance, he pumped as much blood as he could into
increasing his speed, and with a yell leaped forward snatching
Evelynn off the ground and dashing for the alley exit. Jericho
dropped Anne and started to give chase, a bola whizzed past him
and entangled the feet of the fleeing Brujah. Jericho quickly
leapt forward and slammed his knee into purple spike's back,
sending him crashing to the ground. Jericho then whipped out his
blade and placed it on the Brujah's neck.
"Now stay still if you know what's good for you,"
He glanced up towards the other Sabbat as they jumped off the
rooftops to join him and Anne. Anne walked up and deftly
retrieved her bola. "You know," Jericho smirked,
"If you could drag that stick out of your butt, I might even
enjoy having you come on raids with me."
Anne looked up at him, "Strange, I was just thinking that if
you ever calmed down and learned to respect authority, you might
make a decent leader, instead of just a jerk whose good with a
sword." She shot back, as she tucked the bola into one of
her coat's pockets.
Jericho frowned at her as he dragged purple spikes to his feet.
"Fine, we know she's Jaynie, now who're you?"
he asked.
Francis shook his head in surprise. "My name's Francis,
but that's Evelynn, not Jaynie, boy did you guys jump the
wrong people! Hell she's not even Brujah!"
He chuckled at the Sabbat's stupidity. Jericho's eyes
narrowed in rage, "That fuck Cooler set us up!" he
growled.
Anne frowned, "Or we just struck too early, after all whose
to say other Kindred might not walk down this alley. All we do is
reset the ambush and wait again, you can claim these as bonus
kills."
"Kills!?" said Francis, "I thought you wanted us
alive!"
"Wrong dipshit," snarled Jericho, "we want Jaynie
alive, you two are just in the wrong place at the wrong
time."
As Jericho raised his blade the alley was suddenly filled with
the ring of bullets, Anne staggered as a shotgun blast hit her in
the back, and two of the Rats were engulfed by thrown maltovs.
Jericho threw aside Francis and spun to look at the rooftops, at
least a dozen of them, maybe more! Jericho quickly raised his
arms, and his shadow seemed to surge forth, becoming
three-dimensional as it began to fill the alley.
Reginald cursed, "Aim for the fucking Lasombra!" he
ordered.
The ghouls just kept firing and throwing maltovs, after all they
couldn't see anything through the thick dark cloud. A few
shots were being fired back, but only one ghoul had even been
hit, and not badly. Reginald smiled as he reloaded his shotgun
and let out a few more bursts into the alley.
Jericho flattened himself against a wall as shotgun blasts
slammed about him. He almost felt sorry for the Rats, as he
watched them stagger around in the dark, but if they hadn't
bothered to memorize the layoutwell tough shit.
"Jericho!" He glanced around to see Anne getting to her
feet, apparently she had quite a few pieces of armor under that
coat. "Jericho, you could raise the cloud up so the rest of
us could see!"
Jericho nodded, he hadn't thought of that, however the
possibility before him was too good to pass up. He raised his
sword, this would teach Cooler not to send any more spies out
with him. He started to make his way towards Anne who was waving
her arms about as she blindly struggled down the alley.
Anne heard Jericho approach, she had expected as much since he hadn't moved his cloud after her shout. She continued to act helpless in the total darkness, but kept one hand close to her blade. She heard the swish of Jericho's sword, and deftly whipped out her own to deflect it, she countered but Jericho danced back. Damn, this just got a lot tougher she thought to herself.
Damn this just got tougher Jericho thought as Anne came within centimeters of slashing him with her return attack. Luckily for him he had seen her tense just moments before he swung, and had known to be ready to get out of the way. She now stood with her back to a wall and her eyes scanning the dark. Jericho cursed the fact that she was better trained then he had thought. He quickly rushed in and let out a brief flurry of blows, Anne blocked most but was cut severely across the belly by the last one. He grinned, until she lashed out her free hand and sent a knife into his chest. The fucking thing burned like the blazes, so he quickly tore it out and threw it back, it thudded into her leg. She gasped in pain and dropped to one knee.
Anne wiped some of her dripping hair out of her face as she listened to Jericho's movements. She cursed the constant gunfire and pounding raindrops, they were making this much more dangerous a game. She had to find a way to even the odds
Jericho's eyes widened as Anne seemed to fade from view, damn! He swung his blade before him and backtracked quickly. Fucking Black Hand bullshit stealth tricks! Jericho cursed himself for not using some of his other shadow powers to finish her off quicker. Realizing this round was a draw he yelled for a retreat and dashed out of the alley. The surviving Rats quickly followed.
Anne limped slowly along, she reached a main street and quickly hailed a cab. As she collapsed into it and ordered the driver to take her back to Windsor, she swore that Jericho would regret tonight's activities for a long, long time.
Reginald and his ghouls proudly stood within the alley. Five
Sabbat lay in bloody, burnt piles. Reginald cursed the fact that
Jericho had escaped, but he could probably use his rescue of
Evelynn and Francis as a way to lever favors from them or their
sires. Well worth the money he had paid that filthy informant.
Reginald looked around, strange he seemed to recall the Sabbat
had planned to attack Jaynie. Shrugging he walked over to Francis
and poked him with his shotgun.
"Whas goin" Francis peered up dully at Reginald.
Reginald smiled, time to make the brute promise him a boon.
"Hey Reggie, did you happen to jump the wrong Brujah!"
Reginald spun around to see Jaynie and a small collection of
Brujah thugs. Why would she think he was here to ambush Brujah?
Reginald suddenly gasped as he saw a spectral figure standing
behind Jaynie, Doshaine. His black robes fluttered and blew in a
breeze that couldn't be blowing in the alley. With a start
Reginald realized it was merely a projection of Doshaine, but
that would mean that the reason Jaynie thought
Reginald's eyes widened as he saw the tricks Doshaine had
played, he quickly raised his head to explain to Jaynie and
suddenly found his gaze locked with Doshaine's
To his horror Reginald found himself speaking, "Damn
straight I did, but now that the main course has appeared I guess
I'll still get to kill you! For the Ventrue! Attack!!!"
Reginald was suddenly in control of his mind once again as his
ghouls quickly raised their near empty weapons.
"Pal, you must have a death wish," chuckled Doc as two
nickel plated pistols seemed to snap into his hands, he quickly
began cutting down ghouls.
La Belle howled in glee as she whipped out her own guns and began
blasting away. The other two Brujah happily leaped to the
assault. Jaynie shook her head in awe at the foolishness of the
Ventrue. Francis slowly stood, only to see a spectral figure
appear before him. A few seconds later he recalled how the
Ventrue had ambushed him and Evelynn. He growled as he pulled out
his knife and leapt at the Ventrue dick. The battle was over in
moments. Francis had slashed the hell out of the Ventrue, Doc
finished him off by picking up Reginald's own shotgun and
emptying both barrels into his face.
"Tis seems strange, why would he pick a fight when his men
had wasted so much ammunition," asked Belle.
Doc shrugged, "Sometimes when their dander's up, people
don't think things through clearly."
Jaynie nodded, "In any case let's clean up this mess,
I'd rather not have Octavian realize we did this," The
Brujah nodded and quickly went about clearing the area.
Danae watched as her master finally lowered his arms, he had been standing motionless for the last twenty minutes. Doshaine turned back towards her and smiled, "It is finished."