He smelled the blood before he heard any voices, the scent heavy on the air, full of power and vaguely familiar. Nines peered around the corner of the building, his eyes immediately drawn to the three.. no, four, figures around the single lamppost in the parking lot. He could clearly see that the three standing were sabbat grunts, their hunched over stance and elongated claws giving them away. On the ground was the fourth figure, not quite visible between their legs. Suddenly, one of them lifted his foot, smashing it down on the crumpled, white-clothed figure, eliciting a pained cry. A distinctly female pained cry.

The guttural voices drifted across the lot as Rodriguez crept out, drawing his gun as he moved. They were saying something about taking it's teeth, among other, less pleasant things. The one on the ground struggled weakly against the foot on her chest, snarling as she gripped the beasts ankle. As the middle figure bent down, his clawed hand trailing along her bare leg, Nines fired, causing the bent sabbat vampire to clutch its heavily bleeding head, swearing as the three turned to see who dared interrupt their little game.

It was an easy task spooking the two lesser vampires, though Nines had to make an example of the third when it rushed back at him, blood still oozing from it's head. As he turned away from the quickly crumbling skeleton, he saw the female dragging herself to her feet, her white dress covered with mud and not a small amount of blood, long dark hair falling loose around her bare shoulders and down her back. As she turned, Nines realized it was the fledgling from LaCroix's little show a few weeks ago. She straightened, her green and gold eyes on him, and the Anarch was surprised to see her wounds already healing. She had strengthened considerably since her sire was killed.

Suddenly, she tilted her head to one side, her eyelids dropping halfway down her two-toned eyes, and she began to sway in place, her right hand hovering next to her temple. The fledgeling was murmuring, and as he approached, he caught the words, "A walk in the park is not so pleasant. It's not Smokey, but only you can stop forest fires. Watch out for it's claws."

Nines raised an eyebrow and she immediately stopped, her full blood-colored lips pressing shut as she clasped her hands in front of her, her delicate features coached into a strangely attentive expression.

"Trouble sure seems to like you... Name's Nines."

She smiled a little oddly, then asked, "What happened to one through eight?" Nines suppressed a flinch, suddenly realizing why she seemed so very strange.

"Same thing that happens to a lot of Anarchs, Malk. But you already know that somehow, don't ya? Should've been more careful, newbie. This ain't the burbs."

Her eyes drifted slightly to the left, focusing on something that was probably not even there, and said, "Whadda ya know... I will let everyone in shouting distance hear."

Nines shook his head, smothering an amused smirk, and said, "You do what you want. Me, I got things to deal with. Why don't you pay me a visit at the Last Round tonight. I don't know what you've heard so far, but it's time you heard the real story."

The malkavian's odd eyes snapped back to him, a surprisingly warm smile on her pale face. "I like stories."

The Anarch shook his head again, turning to leave while saying, "This is a mean existence. Stay out of trouble, kid."

He heard a faint giggle behind him, and glanced back in time to see her moving with an eerie sort of grace in the opposite direction, her face lifted to the sky.