Three
Hmm. She perhaps didn't think this through properly, but taking a cab seemed like a safe option. To be fair, it was the getting out of the cab that had been the dangerous part. And the baseball bat over the back of her head, that had been pretty dangerous too. Miriam frowned, dirt covering her clothes from where she'd been shoved into the ground by her sabbat attackers. All things considered she wasn't entirely sure how she'd get out of this situation. Perhaps that was what provoked the mad burst of giggles that took over her, then again why her mind did anything it did these days tended to elude her.
"What's so funny?" one of the sabbat growled, his foot pressing down onto her chest, muddying her white clothes.
"Won't be laughing when you're dead!" another added.
"You're in for it now!" she cackled, her yellow and blue eyes bright and luminous under the street lights and the words poured forth from her instinctively, little did she truly realise the predications she was spouting. "He's coming, he'll go 'BANG! BANG! You filthy sabbat vermin' and you'll be like 'POW! POW! Ooooh, you wascaly wampire! You got me!' EXPLOSION."
They stared at her for a long moment, mouths agape before one of them muttered, "Ugh, Malkavians... someone pass me my gun, ought to put this nutcase out of her misery."
Cold metal pressed to her skull, it would have scared her if her mind were wired differently but she simply grinned up at them, one word forming on her red lips: Boom.
The shot tore threw the air but it wasn't from the gun pressed to her temple, the bullet clipping the side of one of the sabbat and they cursed, all three of them spinning around to stare at the newcomer with his gun still cocked towards her attackers.
"Leave," he commanded, and she recognised him from the theatre, the one with the blue eyes who'd saved her before. She liked those blue eyes, the colours were lovely – one of her voices wanted to wear them around her neck like a pendant. Another voice wanted to waste away the hours of undead eternity staring into those blue orbs.
"There's three of us, Rodriguez," one of the sabbat growled, "What are you going to do? Shoot us?"
A hand patted the grenade strapped to his belt, the threat clear as Miriam cackled on the ground and filled in the silence with, "Boom!"
The sabbat hissed in frustration, fingers flexing and teeth baring as they weighed up risk and consequences before making the decision to leave. They scampered, one of them muttering an angry, "This isn't over," his sentence directed at neither and both of them at the same time.
"The name's Nines. Trouble sure seems to follow you, kid," Nines mused as he lowered his gun and stepped closer.
Pulling herself up off the ground she met his eyes, such pretty eyes, they would make a lovely necklace - shut up! Why did his blood smell so familiar to her? She gazed at him for a long moment, took in every feature, every crease and line of his face and curve of muscle. She liked the way his body knitted it's flesh together, one of her wanted to feel it under her fingers but she wasn't completely certain why, she didn't feel this way about other vampires.
"We had the situation controlled under," she replied after several moments.
A dark eyebrow rose on his features, his amusement evident as he humoured her with a soft, "Really? Because you look like shit to me."
"We have the boom-stick!" She grabbed her gun, pointing it no where in particular but rather to emphasise the point. "Bullets to make the brains splatter. The grey matter is very squishy."
"Easy, kid, calm down." Nines chuckled and placed a hand on her weapon, gently urging her to sheath it and the distraction was momentary but one of the sabbat used it as an opportunity to run and lunge at the Brujah. His own gun was waiting, though, and shot a clean bullet through the sabbat's chest, turning him into ash. "Good effort," he drawled. "Execution needs a little work though."
Sheathing his gun at his belt he looked her up and down, his lips pulling into a thin line before he added, "If you're still alive in a few nights time come by the Last Round. Someone ought to teach you how to fight if you want any chance at surviving in this shithole."
"Our many voices will consider it."
He blinked at her. "...Right. Try not to get yourself killed, kid."
"We appreciate your sight orbs," she added quickly as he moved to leave and then turned back to her, the blue objects of her desire widening in surprise. "We would like to make a necklace out of them. If you were to no longer require them."
"I'll include them to you in my will." A soft chuckled rumbled in his throat, and when he left she distinctively heard him mutter, "Malkavians."
o0o
She found the Round of Last easily enough, stepping through the doors and into the bar and finding the oddly familiar sound of deafening music filling her ears. There weren't many people inside, she had expected more, but after a chat with Jack and Helter Skelter she found her way up the stairs to stand before the numbered man. Nines leant against the wall, his hand tapping on the plaster but he faced her when she approached, an eyebrow arched in mild interest.
"I see you've managed to stay alive long enough to find us here," he mused and one of her was offended that he didn't think she would make it this far. "LaCroix still got you running around like a dog on a leash?"
"Regretfully we are still bound to the jester prince," she paused and placed her hands on her hips, grinning at the thoughts running crazed circles in her head, "But we killed all the fleshy ones in the warehouse and amongst the Elizabetheans. He is still unhappy with us."
"Pissing off LaCroix already, huh?" Something like a twinkle flashed in his eyes to match the smirk that tugged at his lips. "Maybe that Brujah blood hasn't completely worked it's way out your system yet after all."
A frown stole over her features. "We don't understand. We only have the desire to create delicious chaos and count the bottles in the bar downstairs. Yesterday we wasted an entire night cycle counting the bottles in Janus' home."
"I'm not even going to pretend that I understand what you just said," he muttered but she found no derision or mocking in his voice, not like some other of the kindred did when they heard the words that fell from her lips – calling her names, saying she was crazy. It was offensive to her voices, she was just as sane as anyone else in her mind, perhaps more-so because she saw the things that others missed.
Nines shifted, casting an appraising look over her flesh with his blue eyes. She would have put something nicer on if she knew he was going to look at her like that. Then she realised she didn't have anything nicer, she should buy some more clothes, she couldn't remember where her apartment used to be.
"You want some tips on how to survive in LA, kid?"
"We would relish any tips that come from your lips," one of her voices replied. The one that wanted to wile away the hours with the numbers, damn that voice, she would need to keep it in check, it was much too fond of the Nines.
"Hold your hands like this," he instructed, and his fingers, cold and hard slipped around her wrists, pulling her arms into position. "Most vamps like to come in close and personal, try and dodge the first attack and then come in around from behind. And try not to get on the wrong side of a shotgun."
"And the other tips we see brimming in your grey matter?" she prompted as he released her, a small feeling of disappointment from the lost contact sputtering weakly inside her for a moment.
"The Camarilla's full of shit, once your done with LaCroix don't give him the time of night." Teeth bared for a moment, a snarl escaping his throat that she knew wasn't directed at her. "LA's the school of hard knocks, kid, keep your friends close and your enemies in a fire-pit."
"We will attempt to roast the juicy flesh of our enemies at every opportunity we get," she replied with a nod, she wanted him to know she understood his advice. "And keep our companions at our side and out of the barbecue. And our lovers-"
"No such thing as love in this world, you can dump that idea back where you left your sanity, Malk," he interrupted, and his words annoyed her, how did he know that to be true? "Start acting like you're out of some trashy airport paperback and you'll find Final Death quicker than one of those sabbat idiots. The only people who have time for crap like that are ghouls and Toreador's, and even then it's just bullshit from blood bonding most of the time."
His features softened for a moment, perhaps she looked hurt or disappointed. "Keep your head on as straight as you can, kid, only way you'll stand a chance in this world."
"Our mind may be on wonky but we think clearly somewhere inside of us."
"I'm sure." It came as a disinterested drawl, as if he were simply humouring her the same way the other kindred did when they knew what blood ran through her. It annoyed her, she thought he was meant to be different. "Time's up, kid, I've got things to do. Come around again in a few nights if you're still alive."
"We will consider it," she muttered and turned away, frustrated by their conversation and too choked up in her thoughts to catch the brief look of curiosity that flashed over Nines' features when he knew she wasn't looking.
o0o
Jack was right, she was completely crazy, Nines felt like he needed a translator to understand half the things that spewed from her lips. But the kid had a remarkably strong Anarch tendency, she really must still be under the influence of the small bit of Brujah blood he'd given her. The mixture of Brujah and Malkavian was causing some hilarious rumours to float his way about the things she was doing to piss off LaCroix though. It seemed that she got away with it because of her madness and the prince simply thought she screwed up all his missions because she didn't have the sanity to do it properly, far less did he suspect it was because the heart of an Anarch burnt bright in her dead chest.
As far as Nines was concerned, his split decision to save the girl's life all those weeks ago had happily turned into a benefit to him and his cause. Miriam popped into the Last Round every few days, chatted with Damsel a lot and occasionally traded words with Nines himself.
That evening he'd left his usual haunt and was wandering through the streets Downtown, looking for a feed when he found her in the middle of the road, not all that far from where they'd both been hit by the car so long ago. She had her hands on her hips, her brow furrowed beneath her dark fringe and yellow and blue eyes staring intently at what looked like a stop sign.
Nines stepped closer and parted his lips to catch her attention, but silenced himself when he heard her speak first. But not to him.
"No," she started, very defiantly towards the sign. "YOU stop!"
A pause for a moment and Nines could only gape at her – really he shouldn't be that surprised at the situation.
"NO, YOU STOP!" she repeated, evidently becoming more and more flustered.
One split second of hesitation as she glanced away, closed her eyes tightly shut and then looked back at the sign, perhaps expecting it to have changed. It didn't, so she yelled, "AHHH, STOP!"
Fangs bared, a hiss tearing from her throat and fingers with sharp nails flexing at her sides. Then, a hand reached forward, pointing accusingly at the sign as she stared it down. "You've made a powerful enemy today, sign."
And just like that, she composed herself once more as if nothing had happened, dusted herself off and turned to continue down the street. She was clearly too wrapped up in her own head because she bumped, quite literally, into Nines who caught her gently by the shoulders and pushed her away. Blinking up at him she cocked her head, eyes bright and wide under her dark fringe. He swallowed as he took in the sight of her, the skirt and tight fitting top that didn't leave much to the imagine – and then wondered why the hell he was thinking along those lines. He hadn't felt that way about someone since he was human, clearly her crazy was rubbing off on him, he reasoned, and he found that fairly concerning as he squashed the unwanted thoughts filtering through his mind.
"We didn't expect to see the Numbered One here, are you complete in your business with the Primogen?"
"The Primogen? Which Primogen?" Nines murmured, a frown pulling at his brow to mirror his confusion at her words.
"We saw you leaving the mansion with the badly plastered Grout." Cocking her head at him, she considered for a moment something far beyond Nines' comprehension. "We did not think it seemed the same as the Numbered One, though. The eyes were not the alike, not as shiny. But we found the stabby in the Grout's chest."
"Grout's... dead," Nines put together after a few moments.
"Even more dead than we are!" Suddenly, a look of concern took over her and her eyes filled with something that remarkably seemed to resemble fear. "The Jester Prince thinks it was your stabby in the Grout's chest because we told him we saw you leaving the mansion."
He gaped at her. "You told him what?" It was hard to keep the disbelief out of his voice, did she do it on purpose or was she too mad to realise the consequences of her actions?
Her features became crestfallen. "We did the wrong thing?"
"I'd say so," he growled, his mind racing to try and piece together what the hell he was meant to do if the Camarilla thought he'd killed a Primogen. "What else did LaCroix say?"
"We remember the words blood hunt being mentioned."
"Fuck."
"We didn't mean-"
He snapped, hissing at her with fury brimming in his eyes as he growled, "Shut it, kid, you've done enough damage."
"We take back our comments!" she retorted, a familiar fury in her eyes so similar to the one that ran so passionately through own his cold blood. "Your eyes would make an ugly necklace."
"Just get out of here," he murmured, waving his hand as if it would make her leave as his other dragged through his hair, tangling in dark locks as a curse fell from his lips and he tried to find the right course of action. How long before they'd be hot on his heels, how long before every vampire in LA wanted his dead heart?
He left her on the street, rushing back to the Last Round while he tried to piece together a plan through his angry thoughts, tinged with Brujah passion and desperately trying to think straight when all his mind would focus on was that he wanted to kill that idiot prince.