Celeste: Mhm was man in so einer Situation macht? Mit eigenen Waffen schlagen, jawoll! *hust* oder auch nicht. Und es war gut, dass Skinner nichts verstanden hat. Immer toll wenn zwei Leute in einer Sprache reden, sie sonst keiner versteht...mhm moment mal...
Thanks to sister-b, Maellowyn (poor little Sebastian, indeed), dropletsoflight, Dragonfly2003, rednightmare (oh well badass or insane, guess the line is slim like Chunk). Rozielle (he'll probably never touch her again but he likes to conquer I think) and Zaekka for the reviews!
Perhaps later the fact that she hadn't slammed that pompous wooden door into Cecilia's face would come to Katherine's mind, but as for now it was occupied by sheer panic. Panic she'd felt the last time she was cowering in a sewer tube, underneath her a bottomless pit. Or so it appeared in her eyes and mind. Searching for the Nosferatu hideout had been no fun at all. That was why she wasn't able to become a pilot: the human and the Kindred Katherine Falkner were utterly afraid of heights when there was no grip as security, like a rope to hold her, preventing a deadly deep fall into some awkward kind of abyss. Sadly the Kindred Katherine Falkner was also afraid of fire, courtesy of Grünfeld Bach, however to top it all her worst fear was a blond French multi-billionaire and Prince of Los Angeles, ruler of all Kindred in the metropolis. Not since she hauled her knee into his manly pride – that realisation came quite too late during the sprint out of his penthouse office and jump over the balustrade some metres below instead of wasting time running down the stairs, all while ignoring the yelling Nosferatu. Shortly the Ventrue cursed the slow-reacting button, punching it like a mad gamer would molest buttons on a gamepad. Gladly no one was apparently using the elevator, doors opening immediately but still too slowly for the taste of the fleeing vampire who every second shot a terrified glance over her shoulder, awaiting the cut of the Sheriff's sword into her neck at any given moment. Katherine only allowed herself to think a little bit again as the metal doors of the elevator closed, pressing her back into the wall, always staring at the glowing buttons which showed in which level it currently was. Too slow! 'Oh Gott, oh Gott, oh Gott!' So much for thinking straight as a hand slapped the panicked Ventrue a bit out of it.
"How can you ignore me?" Imalia glared at her, looking badly offended. Katherine simply stared at her dumbfounded, not realising until now that she was in the company of another Kindred. Then it struck her.
"Sewers!" Gasping, Imalia was grabbed by her collar. "I need to hide! Fastest way to the sewers!"
"Honey, what the hell is wrong with you?" She tried to get out of Katherine's clutches but the Ventrue just started to shake her, nearly snapping again.
"Sewers!" Somehow she tried to dominate Imalia but her mind, unable to concentrate, failed to find the right pronunciation and the word came out like a tormented squeal full of despair.
"All right all right! Sewers, got it. Hope the little snobby Ventrue kitty then tells me what the hell is up," Imalia spilled at her, putting her hands on her hips with a pouting face. Like Katherine would care now. 'Think lady, think!' she urged herself, running down in her mind which escape route was the most promising. From the penthouse she didn't have many options besides the elevator. When she reached the actual tower there would be stairs. It might be a cliché she was putting her hope into, but she was in the States. Stairs would only be used during emergencies, so would they probably expect her to use the elevator or not? Everything was whirling around in her head and there was no time! For sure LaCroix had already contacted the keepers of his Elysium, or would he speculate on his pride, trying to obfuscate this embarrassment?
"I wish I could obfuscate myself." Aching, Katherine put her hands to her face and rubbed them down. Suddenly she felt old.
"Oh you can." The snappy and pouting voice of the Nosferatu now had her attention.
"What?" However Imalia simply turned her head away as the elevator arrived, opening its gaping maw again. Cautiously Katherine stared out, noticing the first footsteps. "Imalia, please! This is urgent! Distract them and I'll tell you what happened, but if I'm dust I can't right? Listen, sorry for ignoring you but, damn, I'm about to get busted by the Prince!" The answer was a snort, accompanied by a small glance in her direction. Katherine really didn't have the nerves to deal with an offended diva right now but still her head was precious.
"Fine! If you're down, go to the right. There's a door to the…back entrance for the Sewer Rats. I guess you stuck-up Ventrue don't know that and then, when you need the ugly Nosferatu, you're all sweet talk, humph!" And Imalia paraded out of the elevator, head high with pouting lips which brought Katherine back to her question of using the elevator or the stairs. Elevator and stairs combined. No time to waste. Running down nearly fifty levels was, even for a Kindred, pretty much a marathon so she decided to take some stairs, jumping again over the handrail as a shortcut and using the elevator. It worked out pretty well either because her changing between those two ways was working decently or Imalia was simply a genius at holding back whatever LaCroix had sent. She reached the lobby fairly fast, sprinting to the door Imalia mentioned and thankfully reached the manhole, sliding away the heavy lid and slipping in.
The smell of the sewers was once again unpleasant, but to her shame she was used to it. 'You're such an exemplary Ventrue. Kicking your Prince in his balls and skulking around in the sewers like a Nosferatu.' Katherine crawled out of the tube, stepping into the brown, foul-smelling water.
"Now what happened?" After several minutes Imalia came through the same tunnel. "Did the cat scratch the Prince, or what?"
"Kind of…" She paused. Imalia had spilled the thing with the nickname. Hell would break loose if this information were to leak out. Sure she'd probably be the Anarchs' new hero but that was a thought to relinquish, even if the image of mocking Damsel with it would be funny. 'Who's all talk now?' Katherine chuckled and Imalia raised an eyebrow.
"What kind of? Do I need to pull everything out of your nose, honey?" The Ventrue shook her head.
"As if I would give you details. You may have saved me but you spilled that thing with le phénix rusé. It pretty much cornered me in the Prince's office." They started to walk, shooing away some rats.
"What? No, I didn't! Did he…Oh shit, Gary backed me up!" Hissing, Imalia kicked a rusty tin can against a wall. "I should be angry now but I guess that was a new lesson to get rid of my…vanity…pah! Yeah, you got me there."
"You're not angry?" Katherine would've wanted to have justice or something similar, however her companion only shrugged.
"I've got my lesson. He's my sire after all." That made her wonder a bit, also vaguely thoughtful; but she did not want to think about it yet. There was still an angry Prince at her neck.
"Hey, can I find shelter in the Warrens for some time until things cool down?" If they ever would. She had attacked LaCroix's virility after all.
"You're kidding me, right? A Ventrue crawling around in our home? Did you slice the smug smile off of his face? I mean, the guys who were after you really made it clear they'd been sent to drag your bony ass back into the Prince's office." So she could expect to be chased after all. No hiding it out of pride it seemed and at least Imalia seemed to enjoy her predicament.
"Ventrue honour and stuff. As if I have any idea about it. What was that about obfuscate you mentioned?" That was not going out of her head.
"You can learn other disciplines foreign to your clan. At least Gary said that. It's only harder. I really didn't pay much attention." It was possible after all? That was great news, but that it was harder was some kind of enthusiasm killer.
"So you could teach me obfuscate right?" Screw those reading-in-the-dark abilities Simon had. Hiding her ass was way more important now.
"Yeah, I can." Imalia looked at her oddly. "But why should I?" Katherine shrugged.
"I can offer to teach you another discipline in exchange." However the Nosferatu seemed to like this suggestion.
"Teach me how you manage to impress people, you know? That walking into a room and having everyone's eyes on you. It would be like before this Texas Chainsaw Massacre thing." Oh great, a Nosferatu with presence? Oh well why not? After all she'd be a Ventrue with obfuscate.
Fortunately at first the other Nosferatu, even Gary didn't care much about her at all. Well she was Ventrue but not an unusual guest in the Warrens so far, though of course after some nights questions arose as to why she was barricaded up even during the day in Imalia's room, but they fended them off with bitching about Tawni. Nice cover-up and no one was interested in that kind of stuff, so to please Imalia Katherine played along – besides during that course she began to understand her coterie member a bit. Wasn't it the same with her and Cecilia, in some sort of way? Simply because Cecilia had all that which she wanted. As Katherine began to realise this unpleasant little fact, she also began to ponder during the nights. Often sitting somewhere in the Warrens, brooding, thinking and ignoring snappy comments from the shadows. When she wasn't occupied with thinking, Katherine tried to utilise what Imalia had taught her about obfuscate and she was right: it was harder. Learning dominate, fortitude and presence somehow came naturally, at least leaving her feeling some type of reaction that indicated the proper functioning of the gift, but with obfuscate? There was nothing. Not even a tickle. Imalia described it as taking a blanket and covering yourself with it. Shadows. Blanket. What an equation. Apparently LaCroix wasn't making a bloated tantrum out of the situation like someone stole his sarcophagus, else she would've run out to the Anarchs to get a heroic parade before dying after all. Just imagine the amount of shame the dear Prince would have to face, but Katherine had no interest in dying and even less for those Anarch punks. So after another unsuccessful and frustrating try at covering herself in shadows, the Ventrue sought out a desolate, calm place without too many rats. Her favourite place was a couch near some piled up garbage and a single lamp.
Gladly she couldn't smell herself, despite the fact that everything else had overshadowed the smell of the dirty clothes she was wearing by now. But down here no one cared about that and for the first time Katherine analyzed why she'd gotten into this mess. After her illegal Embrace she got along quite well with the Prince. 'Why?' Surprisingly the answer was relatively easy to pin down: she was the obedient soldier. Period. After everything blew up, she'd had too much time to think about what other Kindred told her. LaCroix wanting her dead, because every time she showed up in front of him he was reminded of his inability to rule. Perhaps. Perhaps not. Fact was he made use of her, saw what she was able to do when no one else did. Well Isaac Abrams had too but the smug Toreador and Baron of Hollywood was an Anarch and simultaneously she had to waltz into his jewellery store, announcing her presence. Pretty Camarilla style for her taste. It's not like she didn't have any respect for LaCroix, however he always wanted her to behave like a proper Ventrue. How could she behave like a proper Ventrue if no one bothered to tell her how? Katherine swallowed a lump in her throat. He had. Not directly but the Prince had. More or less. Like his sentence about how deceiving kine was just as easy as killing them. That was indirect for, 'Use your head.' She did. It worked. He was happy and she was praised. "I messed it up." Burrowing her face into her hands, the Ventrue shook her head once again. She always looked at his flaws, not at her own, blaming every misfortune she met on him. Katherine felt like a stupid, stubborn teenager. Her first mistake was to believe what Caleb had said back in Germany, the next was simply to take an assignment from the Regent, hungry for information without knowing if it was really worth the trouble. She could have asked LaCroix but on the other hand it always appeared to her that she was just annoying him, reminding him of what Jack said about his inability to rule; she was a constant trigger of that, and wasn't it her own problem that he was able to manipulate her only by getting a little too close? Katherine should have made things clear from the beginning, instead she longed for his attention against her better judgment and work policy: No flings with those you work with. Mix it with her bad temper, Hargreaves' teachings and that's why she was here now. "Do not falter before using force! Those who don't listen to your words deserve punishment!" That was one of the first lessons and she had apparently adapted to it well. Too well, but Hargreaves always made his point clear. Katherine shuddered, refusing to remember any more details about it. At least for now.
After all it wouldn't be easy, perhaps impossible at all to get back on LaCroix's good side and she didn't want to run away anymore. Something she'd sworn to herself, though it'd be running away not to face the consequences now. On the other hand: what did she have to lose? Not a lot, except her life. The plan she'd come up with, to ghoul Tobias and clean up the mess she'd left behind was again a mere excuse to justify her anger towards the Prince. They were humans, and what purpose did humans serve anyway? Sure Mercurio had his uses and he was a ghoul so he wasn't cattle in her eyes, but Tobias? Why should she really want those feelings back? Also, having him as a ghoul would serve nothing, because he wasn't even suitable enough to be fed upon. Katherine stood and began to walk up and down. Indeed her behaviour was childish due to the overwhelming new world which had opened up to her all of a sudden. She wasn't like that. Of course her bad temper had always been there but still she used her head, planning strategies, figuring out cases during her time in the military police. That couldn't be gone now! Perhaps if she were to bring the fact to LaCroix, that his pretty little princess was endangering the Masquerade…yes. No one knew besides her. It'd be a major slap to his reputation if this were to become public, so she needed evidence. No, no, blackmailing the Prince would be idiotic. She wanted to prove herself useful and trustworthy. "Where's the connection?" Tobias said he was called by Cecilia, so that must have been recorded somehow but how could she get her hands on that? The Ventrue sighed and sat down again, grabbing a rusty slim metal pipe and drawing two circles into the dirt, between them a connection line. Tobias had said some strange things which were unsettling. Did he actually know about vampires? However even Cecilia couldn't be that dumb, besides she'd endanger her beloved Sebastian. There was more and Katherine needed to investigate this but she had no time. Nearly a whole week she'd dwelled down here, feeling with every night how the thirst became stronger, lurking up her throat as she thought always of her situation, of LaCroix.
'Prince LaCroix…' He never left her mind. Why? Must be the blood bond and ever since she kissed him at the airport her longing had become quite stronger. Why had he kissed back anyway? After that he'd begun to exploit it, behaving strangely when she was around. Absolutely nothing like he'd behaved during the sarcophagus course. It started…wait! "Not possible…" Slowly realisation came with the whispered words, the evidence gradually forming a theory. He had played along too well in the charade, and after discovering that damn envelope with Gary's little gift…after that it became even more confusing. Little by little she began to analyze all her meetings with LaCroix since then. Of course everything appeared to her like he wanted to bind her further but the way he did it was quite odd. Why didn't he simply dominate her? Could he be affected after all? Katherine had always thought that the Prince was too old, his blood less diluted and therefore easily too powerful to be bound by her blood. Or could he? "I'll be damned…" Everything just lay out in front of her! All of this could be completely wrong but there was one risky way to find out. Again: what did she have to lose, as with each night her urge to see him was growing bigger like a compulsion, and she once more thought about the words the Prince had spoken last time, his hand at her back, the expression in his grey eyes. Was she that hopelessly in 'love'? Katherine's eyes narrowed upon remembering the kind of kiss he gave her. "I owe you," it said, however he'd smiled as she touched him, apparently to play along like he'd…conquered her.
It wasn't like she didn't have any experience. Hands down, she had been a normal woman in her mortal days and Tobias hadn't been the first man in her life. It was like he wanted to make her angry. All those words he said fuelled the steam. Could it be that he used her anger against her? After his little showing off of manliness with that sabre thing he'd engaged her in a little competition of who had the lead, and she'd been angry during that particular moment. "Fuck, no way!" she hissed as the totally insane idea popped up in her mind that LaCroix enjoyed this! However it was to kill two birds with one stone – no, four. Preventing her from leaving Los Angeles, making her angry and seizing the opportunity to bind her with his blood if she were to lose her self-control in the process. On top of that enjoying the competition. No, cancel the last thing. Someone like LaCroix would not enjoy that with someone like her, an illegally-sired fledgling with no noble blood whatsoever. There was still the bond of course. If he was affected. Ugh…headache. 'Let's find out.' It wasn't a decision made on impulse but she had to either prove this all was wrong or that it was not and apologise, even with her life at stake; besides she had no options other than hiding forever in the Warrens or fleeing from L.A., which were all against her own set-up rule. 'Damn my pride.' But it was all she had left. Along with the urge to go to LaCroix, but first she should have a shower and change of clothes. The pride again and Mercurio wouldn't call the Prince like a squealing girl if she were to pop up. After all Katherine wanted to deliver herself up, only not looking like the scrapped, smelling Kindred she was at the moment.
The one week of time spent in the sewers gave her a better knowledge of the several ways to travel to certain parts of L.A. while plotting with Imalia. Said Nosferatu was also a bit bitchy again now that Katherine wanted to get out of the Warrens. "But we wanted to send some stuff I have about that hag to the press!" She promised her she'd read it when it was published, but still the Nosferatu was pouting and not talking to her anymore. Oh well, she'd cool down. Sliding up the lid of the manhole Katherine crawled out, walking to the Santa Monica apartments and making it past the door to Mercurio's who organised some of his goods.
"Man, sweetie! Where have ya' been? Got a pissed call from LaCroix that ya' would show up, and your friend also asked where ya' been." Looking up, the ghoul stared at her with big eyes.
"Long story. It's better you don't know it, else LaCroix would want your head too." Naturally she'd told Imalia not to tell Simon anything for the Caitiff's own safety, and after the shower she finally felt less like a hiding rat again. "I'm going straight to the Prince. We'll see how he reacts."
"You're kidding, right? I know how LaCroix is when he's upset and he was. It's better not to go until he's calmed down, believe me." It wasn't without reason that Grout had feared LaCroix, however this was a step which needed to be made.
"I can't hide forever, besides I want to prove a theory. I won't barge in and beg for forgiveness." Not that she expected mercy anyway but she had to find out, surrendering to the feeling which beckoned her to the Venture Tower. Mercurio only sighed.
"Be careful okay?" Sure, if she were to die he would lose a good customer. So Katherine simply shrugged and went to the blood bank to spend the last of her money on a blood pack. The urge to go Downtown was too strong to resist any longer. Vandal's mocking tone was silenced by bared fangs. Lowly ghoul. Mercurio was, regarding this, more refreshing and less insulting and even the ride to the tower stressed her nerves. It was strange that she wanted to go there as fast as possible, however she'd think about it later. If there would be a 'later' that is, and upon opening the lavish doors to the Prince's office it crawled slowly into Katherine's mind that this was all a bad idea. It was stomped down fast and arose the same way as her sight lay on LaCroix who sat behind his desk, arms resting on the armrest, shooting daggers out of his cold, narrowed grey eyes. Of course he awaited Katherine, her presence having been announced by either Chunk or his secretary. It came as no surprise that, as soon as she reached his desk, the Sheriff set himself in motion, grabbing her hair and forcing her down as he kicked into the hollow of one of her knees. It was the Prince who spoke first.
"So you finally crawled out of whatever hole you were hiding in," he scoffed, as her head was ripped backwards by the Sheriff, exposing her throat and she was now able to look at LaCroix. She could see how the bones stood out white on his knuckles, clawing around the armrest. "Do you expect clemency now, after this…humiliation?" The last word was hissed in a low tone. "With whom do you think you're dealing, maggot?" His fist hurled down on the table, fangs exposed as he jumped out of his chair. "I should kill you! I should kill you right now!"
"You're free to deal with me in whatever way you see fit my Prince." In an instant – Katherine didn't even know what happened – LaCroix stood in front of her, the strangely shaped paper cutter he always had on his desk pinpointing at her throat, squeezing against it but not injuring her. Not yet. Only a bit more pressure and it would pierce through.
"Don't dare to address me when I have not allowed you to speak!" The Beast could be spotted in his eyes, regardless of that Katherine dared to. She needed to.
"Please, hear me-" A hard slap against her face interrupted the sentence, the Sheriff's tight grip preventing her from falling to the side.
"Silence! Spare me your begging!" Her lips thinned. She didn't want to beg, she wanted to apologise first, admitting how blind and foolish she was. "You are a shame for our blood! A shame for me! Your behaviour is suitable only for those barbaric Brujah Anarchs! Were you hiding there? Did you tell Nines Rodriguez about your heinous acrions? I should have seen it coming, Judas!" Okay, that was quite off the track. If she'd set it out into L.A., how she embarrassed the Prince, it would have already spread like a fire. Katherine had sat in the Warrens! She'd been the first to know it too! It was only news that Cecilia was in Hollywood, guarding Ash Rivers. What a fucking joke. Maybe that's also why she wanted to go to the Prince. His hand with the paper cutter at her throat trembled in anger.
"No my Prince. I'm here to apologise, not to beg. The Anarchs don't know anything." No interruption, so Katherine continued. It was an opportunity she didn't want to miss, perhaps the only opportunity she'd ever have to speak. Letting it pass would be foolish. "I had time to…think." And to pick her words carefully. "I was blind to your clemency, to the chances you gave me. I threw them away, that is why I expect no mercy now but I'm too tired to run away." It was odd, but now things bubbled to the surface she'd never shared with anyone before. Why she quit the military had not been because of post-traumatic stress. It was something else. "This time I'll face the consequences even it means my Final Death." Not crumbling beneath the burning stare of the Prince, she faced him with the courage she'd built up during the past days in the Warrens. Yes he was an asshole, a merciless manipulator but at least he was a monster she knew. A monster who had found a use for her, giving some meaning to the mess she'd slid into after running from the consequences of her mistake in Kunduz, consequences she would've had to bear if one of her comrades had decided to talk. It all came down to her running away. It was time to stop it. "May it be suitable for a Ventrue or not, my sire wasn't a good one himself –" Another hard slap on the other side of her face stopped the words which poured out of her mouth like a waterfall.
"Never…never mention in my presence such rubbish again! Actually, never mention it even in your thoughts!" Now this was kind of irritating, however it could be as Jack mentioned: she was reminding him of his inability to rule. Nonsense. Katherine listened to those words again, instead relying on her own conclusions.
"I accept what I am, I don't deny it. I'm neither rich nor noble, but I accept my role as a Cainite." LaCroix raised his hand and the Sheriff pulled her head further back, making the last words more of a rattle.
"You sound like an antitribu…" He was really, really angry, causing a cold shiver of fear to run down her spine. "…the teachings of those Sabbat animals!" The jaw of the Prince's tightened as he gritted his teeth, fury in his eyes. Why was he so upset about it? He was the Prince! He shouldn't give a damn about what she sounded like and dispose of her like the pawn she was. "Sheriff. Proceed as I instructed you." The sudden change in his voice made her twitch. There was no anger anymore, only cold monotony. So it was time now for the said punishment. "Do you have any last words before facing your desired consequences?" Katherine tried more or less to shake her head, and the Sheriff dragged her out by the hair, causing the young Ventrue to squeal in surprise. More odds were added as the Prince followed them into a small but comfortable room which, like all rooms in the penthouse, was very lavishly furnished. 'A cabinet?' Despite her looming Final Death Katherine began to scrutinize the room, spotting a wall above the lightened fireplace full of portraits, arranged in a particular manner. From the top downward, the highest person was dressed in an old fashion, the next one too but slowly they became more…modern. Sometimes there were more portraits beneath another but it only seemed to track down a certain line and the last portrait confirmed what she was thinking: It was some sort of ancestor gallery, and LaCroix's portrait was at the end. No, wait! Shouldn't there also be Cecilia? However, the Prince's voice jolted her out of this puzzle.
"I demand retribution for your insults. One finger for every one you have dared to spill." He sat down into a huge easy chair, never leaving the still-kneeling Ventrue in front of him out of his eyes. What did he mean by it? "You are free to leave when none of your fingers are left, however…" Taking the bottle which stood on a small table cooled by a bucket of ice together with two goblets, he poured some blood into one of them. "…if you leave before that, the Sheriff will hunt you down. This is a punishment common in our clan and I do expect you to bear it in accordance with your words." Dumbfounded, Katherine nodded. Hell, she seemed to be getting a last chance! Whatever punishment it was and why her fingers played a role in it didn't concern her at the moment. "Good. Place your hands on the floor." She did as he commanded and LaCroix raised a hand again. The Sheriff turned around, then suddenly she felt a kick against the back of her head, heaviness pressing her down to the ground as she felt something brazenly cold on her thumb. "Repeat: I will never insult my Prince again." Rustling of paper could be heard and the pressure against her thumb tightened, squeezing the flesh and then the bones. Katherine let out a pained gasp.
"I will never insult my Prince again." Feeling the pain burning, biting on her lower lip and letting out a tormented scream as she could feel how the finger was cut from her hand. Instinctively Katherine started to breathe frantically; the pressure of the Sheriff's boot on her head was fortified and the second placed on her hand so she wouldn't drag it away.
"A Ventrue does not show signs of weakness! Repeat!" Another rustle as a page of the newspaper was turned.
"A Ventrue does not show signs of weakness…" Was the pain on her cheek or the pain in her hand worse? Katherine couldn't tell as the cold object closed around her forefinger, tightening again until it was cut. To swallow the scream, Katherine bit on her lower lip again and letting out a stifled gasp, then gritting teeth again. Eight fingers to go, and LaCroix hinted that there were more insults than fingers for one night.
AN: Well, Katherine won't be able to tell anything for some time so we'll shift the next chapter into someone else again. It will be a total change of perspective, however I think it'll be a lot of fun to L.A.'s nightlife through the eyes of a human who has no idea what's going on but smells something fishy.