Siege of Powtanville Chapter 3
AN: I own squat. This chapter is from Jessy the Nosferatu's POV. If it seems to be rambling or disorganized at times, its because in my experience that's how most people's thoughts work.
Reason number 203 that I love my Unlife: Tariq still doesn't know I can ride a motorcycle. As far as he and the rest of the pack know, I was a perfect little debutante as a mortal, living in a smal New England town. I had nothing more to worry about than men, and how best to spend daddy's money. All true. I never got around to telling him (or any of the rest of the pack), that during my teenage rebellion phase, I rode with a small biker gang. That only lasted about a month, before one of the bastards tried to rape me. Probably best I never tell Tarry that part. Knowing my Arabian Knight, he'd haul us down to New England to hunt the bastard down. Since that was twenty years ago, he'd most likely end up wasting a balding, fat suburbanite who'd thank him for ending his misery, but that ain't the point. Point is, it'd be a waste of time.
Why is it so good that Tarriq does not know I can ride, you ask? Because he now insists that I cling to him as though my unlife depends on it. Seriously, I once let go to wave to someone, and he freaked out. Lectured me for an hour about how he "Could not bear the thought of an eternity without you, my desert flower, so please be mindfu of your safety" or something like that. I was actually pissed about the lecture, but that nickname pretty much ended that. Let's just say that night I was espescially thankful to the Toreador who taaught me how Kindred can have sex. Basically it's a matter of redirecting blood to the appropriate parts, and in a kind of self-hypnosis. Its kinda like the wheel. If you don't understand it, its almost impossible to get it. But once you do, it seems so obvious, you can't understand why you didn't see it immediately. Sharing blood is great and all, but sometimes you get that special itch that just HAS to be scratched.
Anyway, I'm clinging to Tarry pretty tight as we rode into Powtanville. I know how things'll be, for a little while anyway. We may fool around a lot (me and Tarry espescially) but when we got a job, the Magnificent Seven're all business. So, no loving 'til things're set up. Once I'd establish my intelligence net (making contact with the rats, setting up my PC and hacking into the key places, finding snitches among the Anarchs) and Tarry'd found our Lair, though…I grin momentarily. He'd better not tire himself out too much looking for that Lair, 'cause he's gonna need his stamina! I think to myself, and squeeze him tighter.
As usual he seems to know what I'm thinking, or at least know that I'm getting horny, 'cause he says "Patience, my love. All things are sweeter for waiting".
Unfortunately, Simon somehow hears this. Most of the time the little nutjob is Ok, and he can be damn funny when he's picking on someone else. But right now he's chained in a sidecar (which always makes him extra pissy) and decides to pick on us, saying "Damn, girl! You're STILL horny! Tarriq, man, you better not get killed, or she's liable to go after the rest of us. YUCK!"
I hate it when others rag on my looks. I mean, yeah, I'm ugly as shit, but Tarriq doesn't care. There are times when its just the two of us, that I can forget how I look, which isn't common with Nosferatu. Even when other Kindred aren't around to gawk at us, we know what we are. Normally, though, the rest of our pack are pretty good about it, except for the LaSombra bitch. There're only two things Simon and me agree on: One, Jimmy Hendrix and the Beatles are the only good things to come outta the Sixties, musically. Two, Veronique DuMArs is a stuck up bitch who desperately needs a sunbathing session. But, she is part of the Seven, so we learn to live with her, and confine ourselves to mocking her as frequently as we can.
We get into Powtanville and Tarry stops the bike. "I too regret the need to part, my love, but we each have work to do. I…do not deal well in your field" True. Tarry can move so quietly he once snuck past a pac of Lupines, but he terrifies potential snitches. He hates betrayal, even when it benefits us, and it comes thorugh on his face. "and Bubba should be sufficient to protect you". Tarry learned English from some Brit, so he's got this high-class English accent. This makes it HILARIOUS to hear him say Bubba's name.
"Yeah, well, be careful" I reply "I'd hate to have to find myself another Arabian stallion this late in the game. God knows it was hard enough taming you!" We kiss goodbye. For about five minutes. Simon starts coughing, and the last one sounds like "forgodssakestopit", so we pull apart. Damn, I'm gonna miss that. He will too, iff what I feel between his legs is any indication. He starts shifting his eyes around, the way he does when he's embarassed. God, I love that. I love HIM.
HE disappears, or seems to. No matter how many times I see it, that Quietus stuff gives me the Heebie-Jeebies. Unnatural. Bubba, me and Simon start looking for a manhole cover for me to use. We find it, and I pull it up, and use one hand to throw it aside (Vampiric strength, you gotta love it). Simon checks I've still got his cell phone number, and Bubba's as well. Simon hates enclosed spaces (we sometimes wonder if he might not be claustrophobic as well as paranoid) and so he aint coming. Bubba hates the smell, and besides, someone has to make sure that Simon doesn't start killing every thing he thinks is watching him (he once took out a stop light for that very reason, swear to God).
I send out a mental Call to the city's rat population. It doesn't translate well into any normal language, but basically I say "Two-Legs-Who-Talks is here, and needs help from Four-Legs-In-Dark". It'll be a while before they come, not because they're far way but because rats don't trust easy. They'll want to check me out, make sure this isn't some sort of trick, before they'll talk. As always when I wait, I think about my pack. They're closer to me then my family ever was. Daddy was always busy with The Company's Business, while Mummy was too worried The Eyes Of This Community and how they saw us to spend much Quality Time with me. That's never been a problem since I was recruited by the Magnificent Seven. I think about each one in turn.
Janus, the boss. Strong,smart, and funny, he's like our father. You got a problem? Take it to Janus; even if he can't fix it, he'll do what he can for you. Trouble is, he likes being boss a bit too much. You argue with him, he acts like you're questioning his authority, and not just his plan. Also, if Quietus is creepy, Viscitude is downright scary. Sometimes I have daymares about Janus getting pissed and using that shit on ME. Brrr…
Jeff, the #2 man. He's like our mother. He watches out for us, helps out when he can and takes zero shit from us. I once dissed his clothes, said only a Ventrue would pay as much for a leather jacket as he would for a suit. HE just punched me, and said that he didn't like it when people insulted him. That same night, though, he beat the bejeezus out of some Gangrel who was talking shit about me, so I guess he's OK. Still, ever since the Generation Jump a few nights back, he's been…weird. I once overheard him talking to himself, like an argument. I didn't stick around to here what about, though.
Simon, our priest. As I said, a funny guy if he isn't aimed at you. Since me and him are the packs non-combat specialists , we tend to spend a lot of time together. His official role, other than priest, is Disruption. He really mastered Dementation, and with a bit of work, can plunge a good part of a city into chaos inside of three nights. We talk a lot, about Kindred life, about philosophy (Simon's a Utilitarian, I'm more of a Mills Liberal- people should be allowed to do whatever the fuck they want so long as they don't bother anyone else), and just general chatting and gossip. Still, its hard to really let go around him. One time, soon after I'd joined the pack, he got it into his warped little brain that I wa s a Camarilla spy. Sent Tariq into a coma with Dementation, and came at me with a chainsaw. If Janus hadn't stepped in, he'd probably have killed me. As it was, it took me 3 nights to heal. Tariq beat him so bad, it was 6 nights before he could stand, so I guess its all even.
Can't mention Simon without Bubba. Strong and stupid, but the sweetest Kindred I ever met. I don't mean he's sunshine and flowers to the Kine. He'll kill any of 'em if he has to, its just that like the rest of us, he's got better thngs to do.
Veronique's a bitch. Convinced she's the only REAL Sabbat here, and she loves tormenting the mortals. Sick, really. Once, she made two brothers fight to the death, saying she'd let the winner live. She lied. If she were running this pack, my ass would be dead, again. She thinks no Nosferatu can be trusted in the Sabbat, just because we don't hate our parent Clan like poison. Nuff said. I don't think we need to go over my feelings about Tariq, so…
Two-Legs-Who-Talks, hear me. I am Eldest-In-Darkness. What do you need from us? The words echo in my brain, part of the Animalism discipline.Eldest-In-Darkness means the oldest rat in the sewer, and the one who speaks for the rest. Rats aren't group animals, but like Kindred there'll generally be one who speaks for the rest. They've got a kind of shared mind thing going, so in speaking to him I'm speaking to every rat in town.
I outline what we need them to look for. The Lupines (which for some reason translates as Bonegnawer-Kin) are priority #1, followed by the Camarilla (Two-Legs-Who-Smell-Of-Blood). I can't really translate Caine, so I flash an image. Its from a painting done by the Toreador anti-tribu Primogen Santino, about 300 years ago. The rats agree to keep an eye out. When you consider Powtanville has 10,209 rats, that's more than enough for me. In exchange, I promise them food. Basically, we'll dump the bodies here, for the rats to eat. 4 Lupines, a bunch of Camarilla ghouls, and probably more than a few Powtanvillers who we need for blood…yeah, it's a good deal all around
The rats go their way and I go mine. Now I just gotta find a nice, quiet grotto to set up my computer and shit. Can't use the Lair, Janus having a thing about eggs and baskets. So, the sewer it is. Needs to have a power outlet, and be near a wireless Net area. I find one pretty quick, but not alone. There's another Nosferatu approaching. There's no question about possession; I was here first, and there're plenty of other places in the sewer. Its just a question of which side he's on, and even then it ain't gonna get violent, or even confrontational. Sewer Rat or Creep, we're all Nosferatu, and we got enough problems without killing one another. So, when faced with another Nossie of the opposite Sect, we generally just ignore one another, although we will share info if its nothing important.
He's ugly, like all of us. His skin is a jaundiced yellow with lotsa boils and warts, and his arms are way to long. His posture is like a gorillas. His eyes are completely black, except for the red irises, and his mouth is full of fangs. He's got a ratty little pony tail, and his ears are like an elfs in one of those fantasy games (don't ask me why but Tariq likes 'em; one reason he's happy to carry my computer), except that one of 'ems piereced a dozen times. That gives me hope.
"You an Anarch?" I ask, hoping, but not expecting. Nosferatu generally stay with others of the Clan, so its rare to find one who isn't part of one Sect or the other.
"Sorry, Camarilla. Name's Wheeze, if you care. And by the way your face fell, I'm guessing you're Sabbat?"
"Yup. Jessy Quinn, Magnificent Seven, just out of Dallas. You gonna tell that Ventrue, whatzisname, Swift I'm here?"
He hawks and spits. It clears twenty feet. "Hunh! Not unless that stuckup pissant asks. If he does, I gotta tell; Prince Carmen's orders. But if not…well Clan comes first, and we uglies gotta stick together"
"Thanks, I'll do the same. Hey, don't suppose I could interest you in defecting? Sabbat life's pretty good. I don't have to live in the sewers, and I even got me a hot lover"
He whistles, impressed "Hot lover, eh? Nice going. But I'll pass on the Sabbat, you guys are asking for trouble being so open with the Kine. Take care of yourself sweet thing, and, if things go your way, try to let me go if you can? Do what you want with Swift, fucker treats me like shit, but I kinda like living. I'll do the same, and even extend it to your lover boy."
I smile. Sweet thing, yet! "Deal. Hey…" I ask. Probably nothing, but with this, its always best to be sure, so I ask this question every time I hit a new city "you hear any thing about Nikutu around? "
"Naw. Some rumors of Caine, that's what I'm here to check out, but nonea them thank God. Don't fret, Jess, you'll spoil your looks! And don't worry, any info on Caine I'll share with you. Don't matter who finds Him, so long as He gets found."
We're both glad of that. Nikutu are Nosferat's FAVORITE childer. See, we Nosferatu are all descended from one Childe of his who betrayed him, which caused Caine to curse him and us with ugliness. Crazy fuck decided if he could kill us all he'd get his good looks back. So he sent his other Childer out to get us. They're uglier'n we are, 4th or 5th Generation (they Embraced some new ones on their own), and completely fixated on killing us. I've heard stories of whole Nosferatu UnderCities vanishing overnight, no survivors. Some say that ONE of them wiped out 90 of the Kindred in Russia. So if one was around, me and Wheeze'd do our best to get both sides together to hunt it down. Sabbat wouldn't have to much problem with killing an Ancient that dangerous, and the Camarilla'd be worried about their precious Masquerade being broken by a berzerk monster.
"Whew, load offa my mind lemme tell you. Later nights, bro. Lets hope we see each other again some other night, in peace"
And he leaves, walking through the Stew (Nosferatu term for the rivers of God-Knows-What that flow in the sewer- not just shit, but biowaste, dead things, toxic runoff...) like it's a field of roses. I'll tell Janus about this, of course, but I know he understands. Its happened before, and never hurt much. He knows its just how we Nosferatu are, and that this way, if Wheeze hears anything about Caine, there's a good chance he'll share. And he'll let me let Wheeze go; we usually let one Camarilla go to tell the others what happened. Makes us scarier. Tariq knows too, but that's it. Veronique'd pitch aa fit, try to get me killed as a Camarilla agent. Simon might freak on me agai. Bubba'd listen to Janus, but that'd be the end of our friendship. Jeff's a little harder to predict, espescially now.
Anyway, I've found what I wanted, and so I signal Tariq to bring my Rig (my computer) to the manhole. He won't want to come down, and I'm pretty pleased with him today so I won't make him. I do, sometimes, when he's pissing me off with his whole 'more-centered- than-thou' thing. Or when his…performance has been lacking. Just a subtle reminder that if Jessy ain't happy, Tariq ain't happy. He does the same to me. I've noticed that when I piss him off, suddenly our training sessions get a lot more intense and painful. Ah, Love. Seeing who can vent their anger in the subtlest and most unpleasant way. Somehow, I don't think poets have quite gotten around to that aspect of love just yet.
When I go topside to pick up my rig, I'm surprised and a little worried to be greeted by Simon instead of Tarry.
"Where's Tarry?" I ask. Blunt is best some situations.
"What? You mean I ain't good enough? Jessy I'm hurt. Why pursue that Assassin when you could have all of this?" Simon gyrates his hips.
"Uh-huh. Why don't I just tell Tariq about that offer, that is if you ever tell me where he is" I answer, deadpan now. I know Simon wouldn't make jokes like that if something was wrong. He's crazy, not a prick.
"Go right ahead. He knows who the better man is" I snort "OK fine, your loss baby. Anyway, Tariq's cross town looking for a Lair, and delegated the task of crawling around in Shit Central to me. Lets get this over with, huh?"
Simon takes the monitor and mouse, while I take the computer itself, the keyboard and the wires. Its not that he's being rude, but with vampire strength either one of us could have carried the whole business. If we had about four arms. Besides, Simon being Simon, I'm more comfortable carrying the important things. If he freaks out, all I lose is a monitor and a mouse, which can be ripped off any store. The data in my hard drive is irreplaceable.
As we go Simon and I talk. Finally, he brings up the subject (well one of 'em) that I know the pack's been curious about. "Jessy, I gotta ask how did a prissy little WASP like you were end up Embraced by a Nosferatu? And how'd you get into the Magnificent Seven"
"So, finally got the guts to ask, eh? Well, OK, but first I know you're also dying to know the story behind me and Tarry, so I'm gonna say this: That's private. Cool?"
"Yeah, cool. Now spill, dammit. This place is nasty, and I want something else to think about"
"All right. Prepare your soul for the epic tale of Jessica Quinn. I was your average New England society girl. Rich, well-bred, spoiled, selfish. Oh, I gave money to all the right charities, but it was more a social thing than an altruistic one. Anyway, one day I'm hanging on a city street corner. It was Mount Pellier, and I was there visiting a friend. MY car'd broke down so I was waiting on a bus. Only other person there's this old homeless guy, real filthy and all. He start's clutchin' his chest, and falls over. I don't do anything, because I didn't want to touch him, and besides, not my problem. Someone else could take care of it, I figured. But no one did, and he died. Now, ninety-nine times out of a hundred, this would be just a bad memory, only the old bum was a friend of a Camarilla Nosferatu living in the sewer. One of her ghouls saw the whole thing, but couldn't get there in time. She yelled at me but because she looked homeless, I just told her to fuck off before I got a cop. I figured I was rich enough that nothing could hurt me. WRONG-O!
See, that Nosferatu found out where I lived. One night she busts in to my house, kills my parents and is about to kill me, but when I offered her money to spare me, she gets a better idea. She says, "You think money and looks are gonna save you? After what you let happen to my pal, Joey? Maybe you'f like to see what its like with neither!" and she Embraced me, then dragged me to the sewers.
Next few nights are horrible, 'cause part of the Nossie Embrace is that your body starts to warp and change, as Nosferat's curse comes into effect. By the end, I looked like this, and was living in a sewer. I ran off, hoping to find someone who could help me. My Sire didn't care, she'd done it as an object lesson, and had planned to kill me later on, once she got bored. I found some Kindred who heard my story and promised me revenge. We hunted the bitch who did this to me down and killed her. They were a Sabbat pack, Maggie's Madboyz, six Malks and a Brujah Leader. They taught me what I needed to know, but when it came to Disciplines, they needed help. Maggie only knew Potence, Fortitude, and Presence. I learned Fortitude, but didn't have enough combat skill to make Potence worthwhile. So they found a Nossie anti-tribu to teach me our Disciplines Obfuscate and Animalism. I got so good, guy calling himself Skye heard tell of my abilities. Gave me a test, find out his REAL name, which he had kept secret for the purpose of the test.
None of the city's Kindred knew, but the rats did. They'd heard him talking to the city's Arch-Bishop, introducing himself. So, when he came back I said "Hello Janus Zapolski!". He offered me a place in the Seven, where I've been for the last nine years."
Simon stays silent, thinking this over. I decide I need something else to think about, to keep my mind off Tarry running around a city filled with Lupines, Camarilla, and who knows what all else. "So, what about you? How'd you wind up Embraced by a Malk?"
He laughs. "You are never gonna believe this, but once upon a time Simon the Malkvian Priest was Simon the Psychology Intern. See, I always was interested in madness, since my dad went crazy when I was five. He wasn't psychotic, but one day he just flipped, started screaming about how 'they' were watching him. SO, many years of schooling later, I'm interning in Bellevue mental hospital. I saw it all. Pyromaniacs, manic depressives, paranoiacs, Multiple personalities, and about six guys claiming to be Jesus even when we put 'em all in the same room. One night, I pull graveyard shift. So, I'm running an errand for one of the docs, when this weird looking dude pops up outta nowhere. He's got this long filthy hair down to his knees, a bit like Cousin Itt but grimier. Stank like crazy, too. Anyway, he says 'You seek to understand Madness, but you are on the wrong path. The path of Reason will never lead you to your goal.'.. Now, its well after lights out, so I know this guy shouldn't be out. He looked dangerous, so I decide to humor him and ask what I should do. He gives me this weird look, like he's just decided I desrve an answer, and says 'Why, embrace madness. And be Embraced by the madness'. HE cackles, and jumps me. Next thing I know, I'm in the ground. I dig my way out, and someone tells me I'm part of the Sabbat.
I ran with a buncha packs, as a grunt and later as a priest. Just before I joined the Seven, I was part of a siege in New Mexico. I won it by using Lunatic Eruption to send the whole city nuts with rage. Camarilla don't deal well with chaos, and we were able to kill 'em all. Two nights later, Janus' sire, Bolislav, approaches me. I been in this pack since then, thirty five years."
"wow" I say "YOU went to med school? As a student?"
"Shut up."
"I mean, I figured you'd been in an asylum, but I always figured as a patient"
"I said shut up"
"Hey, doc" I grin, enjoying the rare oppurtunity to tease Simon "I get these headaches, anything you can do?"
"Yeah, I can take your mind off your head by kicking your ass. Now shut up"
A deep, English-accented voice says "I suggest you both shut up. Unless, of course, you WANT everyone within five blocks to hear you bickering"
"TARRY!" I rush to him, tackling him in my haste to hug him. He flies backwards, I hit that hard, and we land in the Stew.
"BLECH! Jessy! I appreciate your eagerness to see me but I just bought these clothes!" That's my Tarry. He loves to cover his feelingsby pretending I just piss him off.
We've been in Powtanville for less than a night, and already we're ahead of schedule. I only hope the others are doing as well in L.A.
End chapter 3
AN: Does anyone have info relating to the Kindred of the East? If so, send it to my e-mail (In my profile) apparently doesn't allow websites in reviews.