Arienkel, the sidhe sage watched as the Sabbat war party was slowly beaten back by the Camarilla resistance. Nearby stood a mage, he had used his mystical might to lure three werewolves into the fray, and now seemed content with the results. Arienkel motioned to the mage, wolfmen, and vampires as he turned towards the young Boggin he was instructing, "Do you see how they each weave their webs," he asked. The Boggin nodded. "Each group believes themselves the master of their own fate," Arienkel continued, "Yet beyond even this minor battle there is the battle for Detroit, beyond that there is The Wyrm versus The Wyld versus The Weaver. Beyond that you could even find Good versus Evil, though I shall discuss the problems of those terms in a later lecture." The young Boggin stared attentively at Arienkel as the sage became caught up in his spiel. "But you must realize that as each of them play their little games, they convolute upon one another till nothing is ever accomplished. However we Fae, we fight a battle that none of the others can even comprehend, we battle for dreams. Thus we are the only creatures who are allowed to act with true freedom in our actions." Arienkel paused to make sure the young fae still listened. "However, we must always be careful to never allow ourselves to approach these master manipulators, for they have had centuries of practice in manipulating other beings. If we let them know of us we too would be manipulated." "What about us manipulating them?" asked the Boggin. "The Kingdom forbid!" cursed Arienkel in shock, "we are not capable to affect their plots, and even if we tried we would be unable to get the reaction we wanted to happen, and even if we somehow did, we would then be trapped in their mindless little game! You must remember that we are immortal, truly so, and that even these "vampires" will dissolve to dust before your life is ended." "Unless someone jabs ya with a pointy piece of cold wrought iron," came a singsong voice from above. Arienkel glanced upward to the top of a TV antennae, sitting on top of it was Puck, a Pooka trickster of legendary skill. Her hair was composed of fine blue and purple feathers. Her nose was an elegant blue beak. She stood just under five feet, and was currently dressed in a lavender T-shirt, blue and gold striped pants, and neon pink suspenders. Puck lightly sprang off her perch and dropped down by Arienkel. The sage scowled at her impudence. "Tonight's lesson has ended child, return to bed and be good in school tomorrow." The Boggin nodded and scampered off across the rooftops. Arienkel turned and started to walk away. Puck sprang lightly onto the edge of the building and started walking backwards on it looking at Arienkel. "Do you really think it so pointless to attempt to have our own way in their little plots and games," she asked in her song-like voice. "Of course it is! Now if you'll excuse me!" He raised his hands and in a flash of light was gone. He appeared on a rooftop far away, and sighed in relief. As he turned around though he found Puck still next to him. She hopped out to the tip of a flagpole that protruded from the wall of the mansion they were on. "I bet I could play their games, and I bet I could win too," Puck proclaimed. Arienkel snorted, "Please, you can't even keep your own thoughts in order....what would you bet?" "I bet," Puck said grinning, she had known Arienkel never could refuse a game of chance, "I bet three drams of magic, and I'll even let you pick the parameters big nose!" "Fine, if you wish to give away your glamour, so be it." I choose that you should try to manipulate the vampires," Arienkel knew that the wolves were too simple, and Puck would probably easily locate a gullible mage, however the vampires were always looking out for outside manipulation, a perfect foil for Puck's mad methods. "Also, none of the Malkavians may be used in your plot, also you must never allow yourself to be seen, or speak openly to those involved." Puck shrugged in agreement. "So big nose, what should I try to get to happen?" asked Puck. Arienkel pointed across the park at a dark mansion. "There is an old vampire who lives there, he has manipulated much in the city and is very dangerous. I want to see you get him to be almost crushed by a group of pathetic weak vampires. Then I want him saved again but with none of the vampires being slain." Puck stopped capering about the roof, "sounds to me like a pretty fancy setup you want done there," Arienkel nodded. "Are you claiming that you can't do it?" he asked. Puck shook her head,"I can do it, it'll just take some time to set up." "How long do you want?" "Two days, at least!" she giggled as she bounded off across the roofs. Arienkel sat and watched her leave. Two days? Two days! The idea was laughable, how could you so affect a group that spent decades playing out a small move in their own plans in two days. Arienkel rubbed his hands together in anticipation of the free magic energy. Two days later "So are you ready?" Arienkel asked as he watched Puck hang upside down from the tree they were in. She had opted today to wear a yellow top hat, orange sunglasses, a blue T-shirt, and polka-dotted pants. Arienkel continued to wear his silver robe of office. "Shhh big nose, I'm preparing for my ultimate maneuver of politics and stuff," was her hushed reply. Arienkel watched as Puck kept her eyes on a young vampire who was sitting in the park feeding birds, as he did every evening. Then he noticed a limo pulling into the dark mansion of the elder vampire. Puck raised her hands and crossed them to make a shadow puppet bird, energy seemed to wash around her hands and a shining bird shot off straight at the young vampire. The bird whizzed by his head and flew over the mansion, the vampire spun around to see what it was, and watched as two figures left the limo to enter the mansion. "There, my plan is fifty percent done!" Puck happily exclaimed "Yay for me!" Arienkel shook his head, "I fail to see what a flashing bird buzzing a young vampire is going to accomplish." "Well now we have to wait, but have no fear, my plan will unfold." Punk winked at him as the two faeries faded out of sight. Derek scowled as he stomped up the stairs from the basement, "can't a guy get five minutes of peace around here?" he muttered as he heard the doorbell ring again. Finally reaching the front door Derek unbolted it and flung it wide open, little fear in his heart as to the chances of a mugger waiting for him. Outside stood Cheryl, dressed up in her best club going dress, a low-cut red satin affair. She ran a hand through her short spiked red hair and smiled at him. "Yo, Big D, did you forget about the get together tonight?" she asked. Derek groaned, he had forgotten, he nodded to her and turned back into his small house. "Just give me a sec to get dressed." he said. Cheryl laughed at his retreating back, "C'mon "black is beautiful"! I wouldn't mind if you just wanted to come in your boxers." She leaned against the door frame and watched the massively built African-American pull on some jeans and boots. "Hurry up Big D, I suspect Reginald's getting his panties in a bundle cause we haven't shown up yet!" Derek gave up on trying to find a shirt, he grabbed his jacket and magnum off the dresser and rushed to join Cheryl. Reginald glanced at his watch, they were now officially eight minutes late. He frowned and shifted the silk tie on his neck. "Could you relax Reggie, they'll be here," said Trevor. Reginald glanced up from his watch as he glanced at his companions. He had joined this coterie (a collection of kindred with a similar goal) almost five years ago, and the same batch of them kept meeting and saying the same things every other Sunday, in truth Reginald was beginning to regret ever wasting his time with these fools. To Reginald's right sat Alex Sena, a young Caitiff. Alex let his blonde hair grow as it pleased, and rarely seemed to clean his worn green K-mart sweater, or change his khaki pants. Alex however did provide a useful amount of information about what the anarchs of Detroit were up to, thus he was allowed to participate. Across from Reginald sat the mystical advisor of the group. Trevor Fitzroy, he was a member of the Tremere clan, a practitioner of blood sorcery. Trevor kept his head shaved, and always wore a brown suit and a pair of mirror shades. Reginald himself was of the Ventrue clan. His connection to the rulership of the city as well as his sharp business sense and skill at plotting made him (in his own opinion) the most valuable member of the group. The missing members, Derek and Cheryl, were both Brujah and as far as Reginald was concerned, they were starting to become very annoying. However Derek was one of the deputies to Detroit's sheriff, and thus had valuable information to give at every meeting. Cheryl was only put up with because she convinced Derek to show up at the meetings. "At last," hissed Reginald as two figures entered the club. Trevor waved the pair over as Reginald checked his watch again, "ten minutes, my schedule is totally ruined tonight!" he growled. "Relax man," advised Alex, "I think you can afford to lose ten minutes here and there," The two Brujah meanwhile had made their way over, and slid into the available seats. "So what's the word," grunted Derek in his deep voice. Reginald eyed Derek's mussed hair and short beard, then he glanced down at his chest. "You're not wearing a shirt," he noted in annoyance. "Yeah," giggled Cheryl as she ran her hands under Derek's jacket, "don't it make him look sexy!" She nipped at Derek's ear and giggled again. Trevor shook his head at the display, "I think it would be about time for Alex to share his news," Trevor said in his calm monotone. Reginald glanced over at the Caitiff, "That's right, you claimed to have some important news for us, well, what is it? "Um, it's kinda sounding crazy, but it's not," murmured the Caitiff, "you see, I was feeding my birds at Grand Circus Park, and I saw something." "What did you see Alex," growled Reginald in annoyance. "I saw a strange vampire head into Doshaine's mansion," There was a pause as the other kindred at the table took in the news. Doshaine was a reclusive elder of the Toreador clan, he was known to be rather 'strange'. He was also known for being the only powerful elder in the city who apparently had no interest in the politics of Detroit. "So what was so strange about this kindred," asked Reginald. "Well," whispered Alex, "the thing is, it is that, that I had never seen him before. So I checked with the seneschal and found that nobody had presented themselves to the prince as visitors in the past two weeks." "What!" shouted Reginald in shock. The others at the table also seemed to be amazed at the news. The thought of one of the city's elders hiding a un-presented Kindred in the city was shocking. Alex started to repeat himself (taking things far too literally) but was silenced by Reginald's waving hands. "Do you realize what this means? If we could prove this we could have Doshaine by his balls! Think about the favors we could extract from him!" Reginald said with a massive feral grin on his face. "I don't know," said Derek, "It could be dangerous to get involved, after all, maybe there's a reason that this person never presented" "Never mind that hogwash, if you never stretch out, you'll never grab the ring" hissed Reginald. "Did you just make that up right now," laughed Cheryl. Reginald scowled at her, "I want you all to meet me at Grand Circus Park tomorrow night, I think I have a plan!" "That's your plan?" scoffed Cheryl, "sounds to me like you're getting desperate and stupid!" "It will work! I spoke with at least three Toreador who swore by it!" argued Reginald. "I dunno," said Derek, "they say all you do is ask?" "That's correct," snapped Reginald, "come on, I'll show you!" and with that the Ventrue crossed the street and began moving towards the mansion. The others glanced at each other. Finally Derek shrugged and set off after Reginald, Cheryl quickly followed, then Alex. Trevor stood in the lightly blowing winter snow. "Damn it all," he cursed as he too set off after the others. By the time Trevor caught up with the group they stood in front of the massive red oak doors, and Reginald was ringing the doorbell, which was literally a chain attached to a bell on the inside of the house. A few minutes later the door swung open to reveal a young blonde woman dressed like a chauffeur. "May I help you?" she asked, Reginald smiled at her, "Hello Madame," he quickly bowed slightly, "my colleagues and I have come to peruse this fine establishment, we understand that Lord Doshaine offers tours to any interested in viewing his art." There was a seemingly endless pause as the young woman cast her eyes over the assembled group. "Of course, the master is busy at the moment, but I am more then capable of giving you the tour." Reginald let out a breath he didn't realize he had been holding and bowed again. "Come then my friends, we have much to see," he said as he lead the way inside. "This is most bothersome," grouched Arienkel as he sat on a tree branch disguised as an owl. Next to him sat a creature that appeared to be a cross between an ostrich and a dodo bird. "Quiet, big nose you're the one who insisted on accompanying me" replied Puck. "Well I had to make sure you kept to the deal," "Shhh, here they come!" The pair of odd avians fell silent as a small group was lead through the garden. "My master maintains these gardens in the classic style of Paris in the late 12th century," explained the guide. Following her came a motley crew of kindred conspirators. "So when do we find the mythical hiding kindred guest," whispered Cheryl to Alex. "Hey, I saw what I saw," "Sure you did," was her mocking reply. The group then crossed over an impressive mosaic of tiles that depicted Christ and the crucifixion on Golgotha. Trevor marveled at the extreme craftsmanship of the piece as the group was led up three steps and through a bay window entrance into a main hall. "So what exactly is the next phase of your masterful plot," Arienkel asked Puck. In reply she hopped up off the branch she had been sitting on, it lifted upward and allowed an extra beam of moonlight into the hall. Trevor was becoming annoyed at the time wasted here when a flash of moonlight brought to his attention a dark stain on the rug he was standing near. He crouched down, the stain was blood, he touched it and summoned some of his Tremere blood sorcery. The blood was that of a kindred, a young one. Intrigued Trevor scrapped some of the dried blood up and slipped it into one of his pockets. "Well that was a total bust," whined Cheryl, "I just wasted three hours staring at a bunch of old junk! On top of that I know I didn't see any strange kindred standing around!" Reginald shook his head, "I thought that we went into every room they had, but I saw no evidence of any other Kindred but Doshaine." "The night might not be a total ruin," said Trevor fishing into his pocket, "I think I found something worthwhile," so saying he pulled out the blood clot for the others to see. "A funky old piece of funky old blood," complained Cheryl as she paced back and forth in Derek's basement. Derek sat in the corner cleaning a double barreled shotgun. The others stood clumped around Trevor as he sat at a table investigating the blood. "Silence Cheryl," snapped Reginald, "to a person who knows how, blood can tell many secrets." He returned his gaze to Trevor who was now in a trance while holding the blood. Trevor finally came out of it, he then broke off a fragment of the blood and slipped it into his mouth. He closed his eyes again, again the others waited. Finally he opened them, "The man whose blood this was, was a twelfth generation Toreador, he sat in the main hall and spoke with Doshaine. Doshaine then slew him and drank of his blood." Reginald clapped his hands together in glee, "Now we have the old bastard!" Thephano will fly if held too lightly, Thephano will die if held too tightly, Lightly, Tightly, how do I know, Whether I'm holding Thephano, or letting her go? Doshaine looked at the lines of poetry before him and nodded slightly as he reached out his quill for another dab in the nearby inkwell. The albino elder was engrossed in his one remaining passion, composing poetry for his lost love and sire. Suddenly there came a tapping, as though someone gently rapping, rapping at his chamber door. "Only this, and nothing more," he whispered, finishing the line. He stood quickly, he had left standing orders to only be disturbed from his poetry by dire events. He slid open the door to see his ghoul Danae standing there looking quite worried. "truly your forgiveness I implore," spoke Doshaine before Danae could speak, "but the fact is I was napping, and so gently came you rapping, And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door, That I scarce was sure I told you, not to do so long before, Yet your life is put at risk here," his hand shot out and clamped around her throat, "For Ever, Evermore," Danae struggled weakly in the pale hand of her master, which despite her own supernatural strength, may as well have been carved from the marble it resembled. She weakly held up the cell phone in her other hand and desperately waved it in front of him. Doshaine's milky white eyes swiveled to regard the phone, and he snatched it up with his spare hand, "Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore," On the other end of the line there was a pause. "Is this Doshaine?" "Lenore?" "What, no! This is the society for the mutual benefit of you and us," "Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken, "Doubtless" said I, "what it utters is its only stock and store." There was another pause from the other end, Doshaine took the time to recall that Danae needed to breath and released her. "Listen pal, we have proof of the sick little kindred blood addiction you have going on up there, we can prove that you're bringing in kindred, killing them, and then drinking their blood. If you want the evidence to be destroyed then I suggest you get a blood contract ready, cause we'll want some big favors in return." ""Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil! - prophet still if bird or devil! By that Heaven that bends above us - by that God we both adore - Tell this soul with sorrow laden I, shall meet and sign away then " Another pause from the other end, and hints of whispers and suggestions. "Right we'll be there, the contract for the evidence, we'll show up at midnight, sharp." There was a click as the other end disconnected. Doshaine set down the phone. "Master, is everything all right?" Danae quietly asked. Doshaine shook his head, his white hair cascading around his shoulders. "It appears I now owe a boon to a gaggle of fools," he replied. Then he turned and reentered his sanctum to continue his poem. "What foolishness is this going to accomplish," grumped Arienkel as he stood by a dumpster in a back alley of Windsor. A pair of kicking legs clothed in lime green pants stuck out of the dumpster. Arienkel idly watched the light show created by the street lamp shining on the sparkle covered purple shoes attached to those legs. "It will all make sense soon, this is the last part of my plot," came Puck's echoed reply from inside the dumpster. "Ah-ha!" She cried in glee as she dropped back, now holding a filthy pile of rags. "Ah-ha?" Arienkel echoed as she happily began to wrap them about her small body, "I fail to see how making yourself appear more hideous, if less color blind, will help stop the deal without killing any of the young vampires." "Don't you see?" she squeaked from inside the heavy rolls of fabric, "I need to make a distraction in order to put things back the way they were." She suddenly waved her hands in his face, "Quick, hide!" Arienkel spun around and saw the approaching shadow entering the alley, he glanced back and realized it was the only way in or out. "Hide? Where!?!" he hissed at Puck. She looked directly at him, and then grabbed him by his robes and bodily flung him into the dumpster. Arienkel almost bellowed in rage, but clamped his hands across his mouth when he heard the figure speak. "Greetings Leech, I trust you were able to discover interesting news for me," Arienkel peeked over the edge of the dumpster at the strange figure. He immediately recognized Michael Cooler, head vampire of the more violent gathering of the leeches in Windsor! "Yeessth masthster, I foundsth outsth whatsth thesth reasonsth forsth thesth failedsth attacksth laststh weeksth," came the lisping reply from Puck/Leech. Arienkel noticed that now Puck appeared as a robed disgusting vampire creature, like a Nosferatu. "You learned who sent those lupines in to ruin the assault!" snapped Cooler, "Tell me quickly!" "Itsth wasth Doshaine," "Doshaine! That Toreador poet shall soon learn why to never fuck with the Sabbat! I'll send a pack here to meet you in ten minutes, you lead them to his haven, then leave the rest to their skilled abilities." "Yeessth masthster," Leech responded. Arienkel shook his head, he hoped Puck knew what she was doing. Derek rechecked his magnum and shotgun, both loaded, both ready. He climbed out of Cheryl's Firebird and snapped both weapons into holding loops sewn into his leather jacket. Finally he grabbed his special shovel. He had cut up one of its sides and sharpened it in order to create a make-shift battle axe, he had also cut the handle in half for ease of handling in closed quarters combat. "Don't you think you're overdoing things a bit," asked Alex as he walked up towards Derek and Cheryl. Derek looked from the weapons up towards the dark mansion behind its high stone walls. "No," "For once I concur with Derek," said Reginald as he approached the others, he too had a double barreled shotgun, and was concealing it somewhat under his outer coat. "It pays to always be prepared in negotiations, especially when negotiating with someone loony enough to quote poetry as his bargaining method." Cheryl shook her head, "I loved the look on your face when he called you Lenore!" she chuckled. Reginald scowled at her, but the others were spared his complaints by the arrival of Trevor, the Tremere came dashing up on foot, he appeared unarmed but the others knew him to be capable of feats that made conventional firearms seem pointless. "Shall we go then?" asked Cheryl as she slipped a automatic pistol into her purse. The quintet slowly made their way up the walkway and pulled the doorbell. Moments later the young woman opened the door and ushered them in. She lead them into the hall where Trevor had found the blood, he noticed that someone had removed the rug. A fire blazed in the massive fireplace nearby and there was a large square table set in the middle of the room. Reginald immediately moved to stand before it. "Tell me girl, where is your master?" he demanded of the ghoul. "I am here," hissed a voice that seem to bleed from every corner of the room at once. Reginald winced at the echoing sibilance as he turned towards the fireplace. Before it stood a tall dark figure in long black silk robes. "Where the fuck did he come from?" whimpered Alex softly to Derek, the massive Brujah merely shook his head in shock. Reginald suddenly felt very alone, the dark black shadow cast by Doshaine fell straight from the fire to pass over the Ventrue, and leave him alone bereft of its orange glow. Doshaine lifted one elegant arm, the silk of the robe sliding softly over the alabaster white skin. The others shifted nervously as the shadow of the arm stretched towards them, slowly sinking them in a pool of shadow as well. "Welcome once more to my humble house," said Doshaine, he swept his arm forward and bowed slightly. As he rose he pulled a thick piece of parchment out from the inner recesses of his robe. "I have already composed the contract, and I believe that you shall find it....satisfactory." Reginald nodded slowly, then seemed to regain his composure, "For your sake we had better, after all it is you the prince would destroy if he learned of what had transpired here." Reginald stood straighter now, his faith in his own power at this meeting once again apparent to him, despite Doshaine's theatrics. "Now you will allow me to peruse that document, then you shall sign it and we will give you the blood in our possession. "No," said Doshaine, "first you will let me see the blood, so that I may be certain of its authenticity." "Please," Reginald scoffed, "do you think me so foolish?" "Tread carefully Ventrue," whispered Doshaine as he seemed to glide across the floor towards Reginald. "I have met you in good faith, and I expect the same good faith to be shown to me," He now stood directly before Reginald, his shadow seeing to only have become darker as he neared. Reginald instinctively started to raise his shotgun, but quickly decided against doing so when Doshaine's ivory white eyes slowly drifted down to watch the gun. Reginald lowered it again. "A wise decision my friend, if you continue to make wise decisions I may allow you to continue to live." Reginald motioned to Trevor, who walked up and pulled out the blood, at the same moment Doshaine held out the paper and handed it to Reginald. Suddenly there was a booming crash as the outer doors of the mansion slammed open. All eyes turned towards a group of twelve men, all heavily armed and wearing the Sabbat "uniform" of trenchcoats and combat boots. "Hey!" bellowed their leader "this is for shoving your nose in Sabbat business!" so saying he raised his twin magnums towards Doshaine. The elder merely smiled and said, "Danae," The ghoul had quietly worked her way towards a back shelf, and now suddenly pulled out a Winchester rifle, in a blur she pumped the action and sent three shots slamming into the Sabbat. He howled as the bullets erupted, spraying white hot phosphorous over his chest. The other Sabbat immediately raised their weapons and began to spray bullets over the entire room. Derek quickly flipped the nearby table on to its side and ducked behind it, he was quickly joined by Reginald and Cheryl. Trevor Fitzroy dove for the cover of a small desk, he was hit in the leg by a burst from an Uzi but was able to roll across the floor to make it to cover. Alex was hit by a few dozen rounds and collapsed to the floor in a bloody mess. Danae fired her rifle again, then spun around behind the cabinet she had retrieved it from. Doshaine simply seemed to disappear from the battle zone. Derek cursed as a bullet took off part of his ear, with a roar he stood up and pulled out his magnum with his left hand, while holding the shotgun in the right. Bullets thumped into him, but he ignored them and leveled the shotgun at a leather covered swordsman who was charging the table, Derek squeezed the trigger and the swordsman was almost torn in half by the near point blank blast. Derek shot two magnum rounds into a mohawk sporting thug who was blazing away with two Uzi's. With a blur of super-human speed a feral looking Sabbat charged in, forsaking a gun in favor of the gleaming talons his hands sprouted. Derek emptied his magnum into the freak, but the feral warrior took no notice. Just as he leaped onto the edge of the table and raised one of his arms Derek shoved his shotgun into claw boy's chest and pulled the trigger. In a stream of gore the clawed Sabbat was hurled back, he slammed to the ground and slid a few more feet, leaving a bloody smear behind him. Derek grunted in pain as he ducked back behind the table, his body having received numerous wounds from the other gunmen. Danae meanwhile had used her last rifle shot, she again reached into the cabinet and drew out a gleaming longsword. She waited for one of her opponents to come closer and then sprung around towards him. The Sabbat was carrying a bat with barbed wire wrapped around it, he chuckled in overconfidence at the ghoul before him. Yet even as he raised his bat she seemed to blur, and was suddenly standing behind him! Using her enhanced speed Danae spun in a quick arc, the force of her momentum and swinging hips easily tripled the force of the sword blow. There was a sickening crack as she severed his spine, the Sabbat whimpered and dropped to the ground. Danae however was suddenly blown off her feet by a shotgun round that tore through her belly. Derek leaned around the side of the table and fired his re-loaded magnum and Cheryl's automatic at Uzi boy again, this time he managed to hit the head, and blew a sizable chunk off. Cheryl passed him his reloaded shotgun, he passed her back both guns for reloading. As he leaned around again the shotgun was torn from his grasp as his wrist exploded in pain! Derek looked up to see claw boy standing over him, the hole in his chest fully healed. "Fuck you!" he bellowed as a battle cry. He launched himself forward and rammed into claw's chest knocking them both out into the open. Derek was stronger, but claw had the weapons. Derek latched on to claw's wrists and the two struggled for control. Cheryl glanced back at Reginald, who had been firing around the other side of the table with his own shotgun. "Derek needs help!" "Then go help him, I have my own problems," shouted Reginald as he raised his shotgun towards the rising swordsman. Cheryl growled and grabbed the reloaded magnum, she raised it towards Derek and his opponent, only to see Trevor slowly getting to his feet, and turning towards the fight. He raised his hands, and made a motion like grasping something. Suddenly the clawed Sabbat was pulled off Derek, with his arms being pulled wide apart. Cheryl laughed and promptly began to empty the magnum into his chest. Derek lay on his back in shock as claws was pumped full of big holes right above him, the gore rained down on Derek. With a growl he reached behind him and grabbed the handle of his special shovel. "Hurry!" called Trevor who was straining to continue to hold the now frenzing Sabbat. Derek spit in the Sabbat's face, "Fuck you claw boy," with a grunt he swung the shovel at claws, the jagged blade tore into the Sabbat's neck and thanks to Derek's strength severed the head from the shoulders. Derek shoved the body off and kicked the head back towards the other Sabbat. He then quickly scurried along the floor back behind the table, as the Sabbat now gleefully attempted to give him lead poisoning. Puck/Leech watched as Frankie prepared to charge into the fight with his new toy, a home made flame-thrower. She had decided this would be the best way to finish her plot. She peeked into the main hall and once again kept an eye on the piece of floor where the contract and blood clot had fallen. "Siemper Fi, do or die!!!" howled Frankie as he charged into the fight. Puck smiled as she watched him go, then she reached a hand into her robes. Derek grabbed his shotgun again and stood up, he raised it towards the Sabbat, and then paused in shock. One of those sick freaks seemed to be charging with a flame-thrower! Even as he tried to issue a warning the Sabbat seemed to trip on something, he spun and fell heavily backwards. The poorly made gas canister on his back split open when he fell on it, in horror Derek watched the small fire on the end of the sprayer also drop to the ground. "Get down!" he yelled as he dropped behind the table. With a dull whoosh and a blast of heat a massive fire erupted in the hall. "We had best get out," shouted Trevor as he used the distraction to dash over to his comrades. "Derek grab Alex, we can get out through the garden," he said pointing towards the far wall. "Wait!" screeched Reginald, "where's the contract?" Derek glanced around as he leaned down to grab Alex, "I think that's it," he said, motioning with a nod towards the center of the conflagration. "Nooooo," Reginald cried, Cheryl grabbed him to prevent him from trying to retrieve the smoldering papers. "Forget that shit Reggie," she cursed, "let's get the hell outta here!" So saying she dragged Reginald out into the garden, Derek followed with Alex over one shoulder and firing his shotgun blindly at the Sabbat as he went. Trevor dashed out last, thankful to be free of the burning room. Doshaine pushed a small button that released the Halox system into the hall. He then, in a black blur, swept down on Danae and pulled her clear of the fumes. He watched as the Sabbat grabbed their wounded and also fled his home. He looked down at Danae and the massive hole in her from a shotgun blast. His eyes narrowed, none of the Sabbat had been armed with shotguns. He turned towards a window as he watched the small band of conspirators flee into the night. He saw the shotgun clutched in Reginald's hand, and recalled his position during the fight. Doshaine growled. "Well at least we came out O.K.," said Alex as the group sat around a table the following night. "How can you say that," Reginald complained, "We lost a large amount of time and effort, as well as almost all dying." "Not really," said Derek, "I was worried, but that fire never really came very close to us." Reginald sputtered, "then why did we bother to flee? Think of how we could have argued a favor out of him for protecting him from the Sabbat!" "But he did thank us," pointed out Trevor, "his ghoul Apollo said he would forgive us the attempted blackmail due to our heroic efforts in protecting his home." "I'm not sure I'd trust that crazy old poet," sniffed Cheryl. Derek shook his head, "Why shouldn't we, he has nothing to gain by killing any of us, and he's hardly interested in politics. He probably didn't even really care that we tried to blackmail him, at least that's the reading I got." "Then your radar must be broken," hissed Reginald, "that pale faced loon is as dangerous as any other elder. I for one am going to make sure to keep an eye out for any of his plots. I suggest you do the same." Alex just laughed, "Yeah, who wants to be manipulated anyway?" "Master," Danae said as she quietly entered the art gallery, "the cleaning crews have finished, by tomorrow you won't even be able to tell any damage was done to the hall." Doshaine nodded quietly, not taking his eyes off the Dali painting he was studying. "Also it appears that both their evidence, and the contract were destroyed in the fire." Another pause, another nod. "However, I thought I should mention, apparently the workers discovered some marbles near where the fire started." "Marbles?" asked Doshaine in surprise. "Marbles." Danae replied. She held forth her hand towards Doshaine, cupped within it were a dozen or so brightly colored neon marbles. Doshaine picked one up and held it curiously before his pale eyes. Puck was standing on her head watching some vampires on a street corner discuss their secret little plans. She glanced over at the Boggin and the other students who had opted to listen to her as opposed to Arienkel. "So you see my little pack of pests, that it serves us well to study and understand how the other supernaturals act and behave." The children nodded, "because if you are aware of how they work, you can learn to slightly manipulate them with magicks and tricks, in order to get them to do what you want them to," She flipped back onto her feet and pulled out a few gleaming neon marbles from her pocket, "of course sometimes you have to take a more active hand in affairs, to make them turn out perfectly." The children nodded again, giggling, Puck smiled at them, now her song like voice seemed to turn serious, "but always remember, these are dangerous creatures, you must only get involved with them when absolutely necessary. Avoid them unless you have to. Only become enmeshed in their plots to save a child, or protect your friends, or perhaps to teach a lesson" The students took in this grim warning with quiet nods. Puck smiled at them. "Now to scape the serpents tongue, We will make amends ere long; Else the Puck a liar call: So, good night unto you all"
Fin.