Chapter Four: Bittersweet
Disclaimer: All the characters and places belong to their respective creators and owners. I only own my OC and make no money whatsoever out of this.
"Erm… hi, crumb cake… Nothing personal, you know, but Mr LaCroix has told me I can't buzz you up… Actually… it's embarrassing, but the orders are that I should detain you if you showed up…" Chunk babbled, clearly nervous and mortified, his chubby hands flailing around.
I didn't have time to try and persuade him, but I really didn't want to have to hurt him. True, his attempts at flirting and his delusion that I was his girlfriend had caused me quite some awkward moments. The peak had been reached when LaCroix, after an assignment, had snidely commented about letting me off the hook at an earlier time, so that I could enjoy breakfast with my – and on those words his disgusted tone and expression will stay etched in my mind forever – "security stud muffin". I had laughed it off and we had actually cracked some sarcastic jokes on the poor oblivious security guard, but inside I was wondering if Chunk had had the insane idea of asking LaCroix for such a thing (and considering how much he feared the boss, that was a terribly bad sign), or if the Prince had been overhearing some of our conversations, maybe via intercom.
Still, I liked Chunk: he was like an overgrown child, even his face spoke of an innocence so rare in the world that surrounded me. And although I knew things would never be the same again, no matter how the night ended, I at least wanted to preserve him from this madness.
"Run out and go home," I ordered slowly, easily Dominating him. He put his hands over his head and, with a clumsy sprint, disappeared out of the door.
I got behind his desk and pushed the button to call the elevator. Then I crouched and slowly took the few steps to the higher platform. I spotted three guards in full assault gear waiting for me. As soon as the elevator clanged, I crouched inside as fast as I could, and pushed the button before they had the time to notice me.
Abruptly my ride came to an halt, and I forced the door open, to find myself stuck between two floors. I should have known it wouldn't be that easy, surely LaCroix knew I was in the building from the moment I stepped in. Luckily, there was enough space for me to crawl out, and I landed on an unknown floor.
From there I started my climb, encountering many human guards which I mostly avoided or dealt with in my customary way. I reached a cafeteria of some sort and, as I crouched under an enormous skylight, I could spot the silhouettes of a team in SWAT gear waiting for me on top. Luckily they seemed oblivious to my presence. I climbed the stairs to the roof and sneaked behind them, while they were still busy inspecting the room downstairs. I found a duct of some sort, probably left by the renovation team, and climbed up.
I made my way through rooms filled with wood and plastic barriers. I was just thinking that I was having an easier time than at the temple, when LaCroix's voice made me jump out of my skin.
"I anticipated you'd make it this far… I had no doubts about your capability. But I am not so easily betrayed. Did you ever think about what it takes to live as long as I have? To come this far? Consider that lack of judgement in your last few seconds."
I followed the voice and realized that it was not actually the Prince (as if he would soil his tailor-made suit), but a poor soldier he had possessed. To think that he could do that through dozens of floors, while I had to practically make eye contact with my target for it to work, reminded me that, indeed, he possessed powers I could only dream about. But I had never forgotten about it, ironically he had, losing himself in chasing down a Chimera.
"No last words? No charming mottos or promises of revenge?" he sneered, surprised by my silence.
"Sorry to disappoint you, but timed bombs tend to detract from my eloquence," I replied, eyeing the kamikaze belt strapped around the waist of "LaCroix" and readying myself for the fight.
"Very well, then… à bientôt!" He mockingly saluted me with a flourished half-bow.
"Help!" the strangled voice of the soldier reached my ears, and I pitied him even as rounds flew in my direction. I dived behind a wooden scaffolding and knew I had to think and act fast. I couldn't interfere with LaCroix's Domination, I couldn't risk hitting the bomb, so swordplay was out of question. I suddenly cursed my bad aim.
There was only one way, although it would not be pleasant. I took out my gun, used Fortitude and blood-buffed my stamina for good measure and, as soon as he started reloading his rifle, I ran to him. As he saw me he stopped reloading, backed away and fired some rounds straight at my stomach, but thanks to my bodysuit and disciplines I was able to endure and get close enough to trap him in a corner. I'll never forget that man's pleading eyes, and the contrast with LaCroix's devilish grin, as I shot him in the head, putting an end to his misery.
I quickly grabbed the corpse, not wanting it to fall to the ground, lest it set the explosive off, and, eyeing the elevator, I had an idea. I could hear the bomb ticking, and I knew I didn't have much time. I reactivated Bloodbuff to enhance my strength and dragged the soldier's corpse to the elevator, sending it up.
I ran back to a previous room and covered my eardrums as I waited for the inevitable explosion. It came, accompanied by terrible screams. I collapsed on the ground in relief and drank some blood to speed up the healing process and replenish my pool.
When I felt ready, I called the elevator back down and rode it up, walking between the corpses of the soldiers who had been waiting to ambush me. I found another elevator and, as soon as the doors opened, from the opulent style of the room, I knew I was close to LaCroix. The lights were too bright for my tastes, so I found a switch and dimmed them a bit. I crouched up some stairs, and I could see a fellow Ventrue looking out from the window of a nearby office. I kept down and flush to the full marble balustrade, that created a blind-spot that protected me from the Kindred's field of vision.
I opened the door and entered the office to the right, which was a control room of some sort. I accessed the computer menu and with relief saw that there was an option to turn down the lights. I wasn't a great hacker, but thanks to Naoko, my roommate at the MIT, who was a real pro and talked about her passion endlessly, I had learnt the ABCs. Then, mostly with Mitnick's guidance, I had really improved a lot. I hoped it would be enough.
But of course it wasn't: this was Venture Tower after all! I groaned and counted the letters that formed the password, trying to find some fitting word. Maybe something Napoleon-related? It was too long, maybe more than one word? I was getting desperate when something briefly vibrated against my skin: my cell phone, I had forgotten about it! I took it out and there was a SMS from Mitnick himself. It read: don't forget to hitthelights! I almost laughed, typed in hitthelights and I was enshrouded in darkness. I hadn't time to ponder over how Mitnick knew where I was, but I guessed that even Venture tower was not immune from the Nosferatu's webcam network. I knew I would have to repay him somehow at a later time, but right now my only goal was to survive the night.
I had to move before someone came to check the room. I exited and heard heeled steps: a female Ventrue. She asked if someone was there (as if anyone would reply) and I tried to stay perfectly still. Finally, she moved on her patrol and I quietly sneaked behind her. I could have stealth-killed her, but I didn't think that eliminating most of my local Clan would be a smart move. True, some of them in my position would have probably tried to get rid of as many potential "rivals" as possible, while they had a good excuse for it, but now I was more worried with keeping most of the Primogen on my side, and since I didn't know the complex web of alliances and rivalries between the Clans (some I could guess, yes, but still…) I thought it wiser to keep the status quo. The emergency red lights helped in giving me some sense of my bearings and I moved forward, avoiding the few Ventrue patrollers and reaching some double door. I slowly opened them and I could see a meeting room, with an overlong glass table stretching in the middle. Here the lights were still on, although they were not very bright. Two male Ventrues were standing next to an open elevator, and started calling out, one of them moving towards the door. I moved along the opposite side of the table and approached the standing guard, using Fortitude. I knew he was bound to see me soon, but I was almost there.
As he spotted me and raised his rifle, I literally dived into the elevator, and mashed the button. He tried to turn around and grab at me, but was too slow due to the big weapon in his hands and the door closed as I could hear several rounds being fired at it. Fortunately the elevator moved up and opened on a familiar French style room: I was in the Penthouse. I readied myself for the fight to come. Using the flamethrower here would be madness: we were in a terribly flammable environment and I didn't want to be trapped in a blazing fire at the top floor of the tallest skyscraper in LA. Therefore I took out my Blade.
I opened the next door and my hand tightened around the hilt as I saw the Sheriff on the gallery. He stared at me impassively, as usual, and came charging down the stairs. I activated Fortitude, Presence and Bloodbuff, and managed to block his first swing, his giant sword clashing against mine. Then, he vanished in thin air and I panicked and started looking around. I saw him coming at the last moment, just in time to avoid being skewered. Still, he grazed my side and I could feel the burning and the blood sweeping out, but thanks to my disciplines, I could soak the damage. I managed to stab him and noticed that he too wasn't really into swordplay, he just slashed around with that enormous sword, although the mere fact that he could lift it as if it were paper was a feat in itself.
Again he disappeared, and I turned around immediately, spotting him as he reappeared. This time I avoided him easily and was able to deal a couple of blows. When he tried the same disappearing move again I sighed with relief: fortunately he was all brute force and no brains, how could he hope for the same move to work all the time? The fight was a matter of patience and of rinse and repeat, besides the fact that sometimes I retreated a bit to drink some blood or reactivate my disciplines.
After what felt like an eternity, he seemed to falter, but my joy was cut short as, with a piercing shriek, he turned into a giant bat creature. I watched in horror as his clawed feet grabbed at me, and together we crashed out of the huge window. For a moment I expected him to drop me, from this height the fall would have most certainly killed me. I desperately tried to hold on to his legs, but to no avail and finally he let me go. I screamed but I landed on the rooftop, a bit worse for the wear, but nonetheless alive. I could feel the Sheriff flying on top of me, and, as I stood up, I saw he was spawning a few minions. I quickly reactivated my disciplines and took out my flamethrower: here there was no risk in using it and besides, my sword was still in the Penthouse antechamber.
The only problem was that the blasted bat was out of reach, or so I thought, since he dived at me, clawing my arm before getting up again. Now blood was really flowing profusely out of my torn coat: claws were bad news, even with Fortitude I could only soak aggravated damage to some extent. I couldn't hope to fight him like this: he moved too fast and I cursed my bad aim for the umpteenth time in two nights. If I didn't think of something, and fast, I was doomed.
In my panic I almost bumped into a giant spotlight, and, as images from Batman ran through my mind (when your life is threatened you really make the craziest mental associations), I remembered that bats were very sensitive to the light and I wondered if the Sheriff was an exception. I hurriedly turned it on and a flash of light pierced the night sky. I nearly burst into a nervous laughter, because as it hit the Sheriff, a very nice replica of the "Bat-signal" could be seen. The giant mammal screeched and, blinded, plummeted only a few feet away from me. Without further ado, I unloaded my flamethrower upon him, and as the nauseating smell of burnt flesh filled my nostrils, his shrieks grew deafening, as he desperately tried to fly up in the air, only to come tumbling down again after raising only for a few feet. I ignored the other minions trying to hit me and concentrated on him: I could see he was getting weaker and weaker, his struggle progressively becoming more futile, his laments dying down until, with a last shuddering cry, he was no more.
His spawns too turned to ashes, soon to be dispersed by the warm wind. My legs gave out and I sat on the concrete floor, unable to believe I was still "alive". I healed myself as I admired the starry sky, trying to inhale some air: right now I wouldn't be able to talk. Still I knew it was far from over: there was the Prince to deal with, and that prospective was far more frightening than all the Xiaos and the Sheriffs of this world.
Before I could change my mind, I got up and dragged myself down the emergency staircase and back into the Penthouse, where my sword still laid, forgotten. I picked it up, sheathed it and, steadying myself with a few pointless but nonetheless calming breaths, I opened the massive doors to his "throne room".
I do not know what I had expected, but certainly not to find him staring out from his window, turning to look at me with the same calm expression he had when I reported back from a successful mission. His hands, though, betrayed him and I could see they were slightly twitching. For some reason, hands are the most revealing part of our body: even the best at concealing body language have a hard time controlling them, whereas with some training, it is not very difficult to put on an impassable face.
I carefully approached him, and he finally moved from the window, but still remained upon the platform that raised the desk area up about a step. Some internal part of me smirked: even at a moment like this his subconscious couldn't accept that I was as tall, if not taller than him.
"Like Sire, like Childe: I should have killed you that night." He struck a theatrical pose, pinching the bridge of his nose. His mentioning of Lawrence, although it may have been a part of the act, once again caused a tidal wave of unanswered questions to rise up in my chest: but I couldn't let it engulf me, not now.
"How could someone as low as you injure me? You think you've taken everything away, but I still have my Sarcophagus!" he proudly declared, raising his arms.
"Your Sarcophagus? You really still cannot see that it is your obsession with that artefact that brought us to this point? That it clouded your judgement and weakened you so much that even an infant like me was able to get so close to harming you?" I asked, and I didn't even know why I bothered: it was his problem, after all, not mine. But I knew this was the end, one way or the other, probably our last conversation and it felt strangely cathartic for once being able to tell him what I thought, without having to hide everything behind a deep coating of flattering.
"How dare you! How dare you speak up in my presence! You… you worthless maggot!" he spat out, clearly furious, balling his fists so hard to drive out the knuckles.
"Maybe so, but if I am, then what does that say about your Sheriff and your security guards?" I asked, and I could see that I had struck a chord. "Once, you told me you had had enough of sycophants and needed adjutants you could trust. But that's impossible: you don't want to hear the truth, only blind adoration! A hundred times I wanted to warn you that you were on a downward spiral, losing allies and making new enemies everyday, but I couldn't, since I valued my neck. The one time I was open with you, you planned my murder and, when it failed, tried to use me as a scapegoat… What did you expect? That I'd come waltzing back here like a good puppy dog as if nothing had ever happened? You… you have brought this upon yourself, my liege: you are no Caesar and I am not Brutus. I take no pleasure in having to play this role, but you didn't leave me a choice."
I felt spent, strangely empty, as if a very heavy weight had been lifted from my chest. I knew it was pointless, but I needed closure. LaCroix stopped abusing his fists and, for a split second, he seemed stunned and looked at me in a different way, as if he were seeing me for the first time, or I had just grown two heads. But it was a fleeting moment, so I might have imagined it all. Then, he was again unreadable.
Suddenly, there was a ripping sound and my overloaded bag split open, the heavy key protruding and threatening to fall. I caught it just in time, but LaCroix's eyes turned predatory and I knew I was in deep trouble: he had probably spent so much time studying the slot of that bloody Sarcophagus, that he would have recognised its key between a hundred of specimen.
"You have the key? You have brought me the key?" The hysteric undertone of his voice sent my internal alarms off on full red emergency and I recoiled, almost hugging the cylinder by reflex.
"You've done all the work for me, once again! So much to learn… I thought I had lost it all, but no, here you've sailed on a Gehenna wind, bearing my salvation – the key to my future."
His glazed eyes and twisted smile reminded me of the Joker, and, even in my panic, I started to wonder why for the second time in less than an hour, a Batman parallel had sprung to my mind.
"Give me the key!" he spelled out slowly, and I bit my tongue, seeing what he was trying to do, but relief flooded me once I felt no magnetic pull.
"I am sorry, but I won't," I replied, and I could see he was startled. Truth to be told, I was too. He had never tried to Dominate me before, but I hadn't expected to be able to resist it.
"I said: GIVE ME THE KEY!" he repeated, his tone getting desperate.
"Don't waste your time trying to Dominate me," I deadpanned, feigning a confidence I didn't feel.
I expected him to fight for it, or to at least try to tear the key from my grasp and make a run for the Sarcophagus, but I watched in horror as the very embodiment of haughtiness and egotism sank down at my feet, kneeling and begging like a small child just denied of a toy.
"The key! I need the key! Don't you understand? This city needs a leader! The Kuei-Jin will kill us all. With the power that's inside that Sarcophagus I can protect this city! GIVE IT TO ME!"
I couldn't believe my eyes: it felt like when, growing up, you realize that your parents are not the invincible figures you thought them to be. That they are fragile and will eventually perish, like everything in this world. The king was naked, and, for the second time in my existence, it was time for me to grow up. It was a bittersweet feeling.
"Don't make me lose the last ounce of respect I have for you," I hissed, although that wasn't really true. A part of me knew that Ventrues weren't romantic heroes, who relished in a honourable death: our first concern was saving our hides, and if there was a good possibility of doing so, we took it. I wondered if this wasn't a last desperate attempt to fool me, to exploit my still-strong humanity, and if he would have acted the same in front of Xiao, or Strauss.
I had my answer as the Regent appeared, seated in LaCroix's chair, and maybe it was a symbol of things to come. The Prince immediately stopped the hysterics and tried to stand up: I could see he would rather have died than given the Regent the satisfaction of seeing him pleading.
Of course, he knew it was pointless with Strauss, au contraire he evidently still thought of me as naïve and goodhearted.
"Well done, Irene… Your powers are considerable for one so young. You will be a great asset in the years to come, and the Sarcophagus will reside safely in the hands of the Camarilla. I told you before that there are some powers in the world best left undisturbed. I don't know what lies in the Sarcophagus, and I believe that it may be in our best interests not to find out. If these be the final nights of our existence, I do not rush to bring about Gehenna any sooner than it need come. Let the shadows of time cover this dark treasure, so that it eventually fades even from our memories. Some things are best forgotten, Irene. Some things are best forgotten."
"I couldn't agree more, Max… And I thank you for the vote of confidence."
And it wasn't an attempt at flattering, for once I truly meant it: the Regent was a wise man, who could think about the long-term consequences of his choices. Maybe it was his age, maybe his natural disposition, but he was the natural counterbalance to LaCroix and the one man who could get LA's Camarilla out of the mess his rule had created. Although I had a feeling that he was the kind of person who preferred giving guidelines from the shadow, instead of having the spotlight (and the consequent burdens) on himself. I couldn't say I fully trusted him, but I was once again reassured that I had made the best choice possible.
I was taken out of my reverie as two Kindred, armed with crossbows, approached LaCroix, and taking him by the arms, started bringing him out. Looking at the fallen Prince, head bowed and spirit broken, I felt no glee, no fulfilment at having avenged myself. I didn't regret what I had done: the Prince had to be removed, and not only for my sake. Still, I simply did not wish for him to die, and, more importantly, I didn't want to be responsible for it. Maybe it was because I had been raised in an environment where the death penalty was a foreign concept: my parents had taught me that "Nobody should touch Caine", and that we hadn't the right to take a life for a life. Considering my current lifestyle it sounded cruelly ironic, but still I felt there was a big difference between killing someone in self-defence, during combat, and actually planning and executing someone's death as a ceremony, inviting all the people to come and see to set an example.
I guessed I couldn't have it all, could I? This was the way it went in Kindred Society, I would just have to get used to it, and in time this irrational feeling of guilt would fade away. Still, even in my short life, I had learned that most things just didn't seem to want to be forgotten. As icy grey eyes met mine, I had the uncanny sensation that this wasn't going to be an exception.
A/N: And so finally we are at the end of the events of the game, and we can move past them. LaCroix in this chapter is not exactly in top condition, but, never fear, it won't be forever.
As always thank you to my reviewers, old and new, for all the encouragement and the motivation.
Olivia – I haven't given a description of her yet because I think that the great advantage about reading a story, compared to other media, is the possibility of imagining certain things instead of them being imposed. Still, of course I have a definite image of Irene in my mind, and later on I will have to give out certain details, for plot necessity. What I can say is that on some things you are quite close, if not correct… About the clothing: I don't know how you would define a sharp dresser, but Irene in my mind is the kind of person of a classical, "elegant" taste, due also to her upbringing, who chooses clothes that emphasize her strong points and conceal her imperfections, instead than just following the latest trends. Moreover she dresses accordingly to what she has to do, so you won't find her fighting in high heels and a skirt if she can help it, and she generally isn't terribly preoccupied about clothing or shopping, although she knows and follows the dress code if a situation requires it. I hope this makes sense.
And yes, there will most definitely be minor characters from the game, and also new ones created by myself, when the plot will require it.