Chapter 3: Elegy of the Damned

1. Bloodlust in the Club

The throbbing music and flashing lights assaulted Vince's senses as he stepped into the packed nightclub. He moved with purpose against the press of heated bodies, his instincts primed to detect anything supernatural.

Earlier tonight, a contact had tipped Vince off to a major shipment of the new drug arriving at the nightclub. Fresh product meant users. And users meant potential leads to unravel this city-wide trade for that poison.

But these crowded environments posed risks. The heady cocktail of intoxicants and pulsing vitae could overwhelm even veteran kindred restraint. If Vince couldn't intercept the deal in time, he risked a devastating Masquerade breach.

Vince tasted the air - traces of sweet corruption lingered beneath the choking club scents. He was on the right trail. Now he needed to find the source.

He slid between swaying patrons towards the back lounge. The elite clientele gyrated and reveled heedlessly, lost in Dionysian excess. In shadowed alcoves along the walls, even rarest pleasures were shamelessly indulged in.

Among the swirling lights and figures, Vince's hyper-vigilance caught flashes of telltale signs - eyes that reflected light like an animal's, mouths stained red with vitae. Users were here already sampling the wares. Vince just had to identify the supplier before-

A blood-curdling shriek pierced the thunderous music. Activity faltered as patrons looked around uneasily. Vince was already moving, shoving through the crowed towards the source.

The crowd recoiled from a young woman staggering back, clutching her bloody throat. Before her, eyes wild with frenzy, was a lanky figure with elongated fangs bared. Vince reacted on instinct, grabbing the vampire just before he pounced on the next bystander.

"Get out! Everyone out, now!" Vince bellowed, hurling the maddened vampire away from the crowd. Panicked patrons ran for exits as the crazed kindred whipped toward Vince with savage speed. Vince barely deflected the raking claws inches from his face and drove a knee into the vampire's abdomen, buckling him. Before the junkie could rise Vince gripped his head in a chokehold, bending him back.

"Get control of yourself! Focus!" He poured the force of his own beast into the chokehold, trying to pierce the blood-rage clouding the junkie's mind. For a moment confusion flickered in the frenzied eyes.

Then the vampire convulsed, throwing himself wildly against Vince's hold. "Let me go! Need it... NEED IT!"

His snarls rose inhumanly as he twisted free. Self-preservation overcame mercy. Vince drew his Glock and put two rounds through the junkie's heart and one round in the head. The body jerked and went still, but didn't turn into dust. Thin-blood, was Vince's first thought.

Vince quickly dragged the corpse back from the doorway where witnesses were fleeing. Screams and shouts rang out as the Masquerade unraveled by the second. He couldn't contain this disaster, only flee it.

Vince melted into the scattering mob and slipped outside. His bike awaited nearby, its engine rumbling to life. He had to trust the Camarilla to handle the fallout now. Vince's sole focus had to be preventing more such outbreaks by destroying the source.

Sirens rushed past as Vince raced into darkness. The society of the kindred edged closer to chaos each night. And he was still out there stalking the night, and the suppliers still peddled their damnation unhindered. But he wouldn't stop till he found the source or died trying.

2. The Staked Heart

Only 2 hours later, Vince knelt in an alley beside an unconscious vampire. This junkie was young, probably had just been Embraced given the fresh marks on his neck. Still clad in the tatters of his nightclub finery, weak and vulnerable in torpor.

Vince checked the youth's eyes - clouded red with the frenzy that would drive him into murderous insanity tonight. But the sleep coming with the embrace seemed to have restored a measure of peace to his haunted features. For the day at least, he would not feel the thirst.

This was the sole survivor of another nightclub incident, now under guard until the drug burned out of his system. There would be consequences for the Masquerade violation, perhaps even Final Death. But Vince had stalled that judgment, for now, by hiding the freshly turned kindred. His knowledge could proof valuable. He silently cursed the minds behind this scourge that consumed so many younger kindred.

Footsteps crunched on broken glass. Jeanette Voerman emerged from the club's wrecked entrance. She appraised the scene with an inscrutable eye.

"Cleaning up loose ends, I see," she noted coolly. She sounded more like her twin Therese.

Vince stood to meet her gaze. "His life was not mine to take. I've given him a chance to break the hold of the beast. And hopefully provide some useful information."

Jeanette smiled without warmth. "How very chivalrous of you, my white knight. But we both know only ashes await him tonight." Her heels clicked as she circled the unconscious vampire. "Some must be sacrificed for the greater good."

She knelt, twisting a lock of the youth's hair idly. "He is scarcely cold, and clearly turned against his will. We all know the penalty for creating progeny without permission."

Her gaze turned razor-sharp on Vince. "I should report this embarrassing breach to the territory Sheriff. Were the choice solely mine..." She trailed off leadingly.

Vince's jaw clenched. The law was clear - unauthorized siring warranted Final Death. Even for the newly spawned. But the thought of executing this helpless victim churned Vince's stomach after having been a witness to all the bloody chaos over the last few days.

"There's been enough murder," he said firmly. "I won't kill him in cold blood."

Jeanette smiled with too many teeth. "Are you going soft on me, wolfie? Pragmatism must rule the night, or chaos will take us all."

In a flash of movement she tore the boy's shirt aside and produced an oak stake from her jacket, angling it precisely over his heart.

Vince seized her wrist in an iron grip. "Don't do this. He is already asleep, what good will a stake do? Unless you plan to cut off his head too."

Jeanette hesitated, something unreadable passing behind her eyes. Their gazes warred for a few long seconds, the stake poised motionless.

Finally Jeanette sighed theatrically. "Very well, have it your way. How you sway me from principle, I shall never know. You might end up turning me into a bleeding heart too."

She released the stake. Vince retrieved it warily as she straightened with catlike grace.

"He's your responsibility now, Vince. Any further outbursts will fall on your head." She blew a kiss as she walked away. "Do take care, my little wolf."

Vince watched her depart, troubled. He looked down at the boy's resting face. In the distance, the sky lightened towards dawn.

"Tonight we both survive," he murmured. "Tomorrow, we might have to fight."

Vince faded into the shadows, leaving the broken pieces of tonight behind. This battle was far from over. When the sun set again, he would most likely have to face a different kind of danger.

3. A Glimpse of the Abyss

After a good days rest, Vince slowly opened his eyes as consciousness returned. He lay on the bare mattress in his haven's basement, dark and silent as the grave. Vince absently checked the locks on the heavy door and boarded window, more ritual than necessity. This sanctuary had preserved him through many days.

But not untouched. That familiar void gnawed within, the eternal craving that drove kindred to damnation. The Beast's thirst, never sated for long. Tonight it clawed especially desperate, goaded by recent brushes with the red drug. Vince focused inward, caging his darkest impulses behind sheer will. He would remain their master.

Rising, Vince performed his usual rites - draining vitae from a reserve bag, oiling his gear, mentally preparing for the hunt ahead. But his thoughts kept drifting to the youngling vampire now captive and awaiting judgment, thanks to Vince's intervention.

The boy was likely panicking alone right now, terrified of his new unnatural existence. Unsure if he would live to see the next night. Vince knew that abyssal dread like an old friend. He had emerged from its depths. It had left him scarred. Perhaps this wayward childe could too, given the chance. It wasn't a pretty start to his unlife, but better than Final Death.

But it was not Vince's choice to make. The Prince ruled this domain, judge and jury over all kindred fates. And the law on unsanctioned siring was clear, no matter the circumstances. The Prince surely knew of last night's ugly spectacle already. Even with Vince's attempts to hide the newly sired.

Vince would have to pay a personal visit to the Court tonight, explain his actions. It was the only hope to stay the child's execution. Vince's throat tightened, anger and unease roiling beneath his focus. The politics of this cursed society too often muddied what should be simple questions of right and wrong.

Leaving his basement sanctuary, Vince mentally sorted through arguments that might possibly sway the Prince's logic if not her heart. But the instinctive ruthlessness of Elders was often impervious to reason. Attempting to pull back this young one from the brink of true death may prove Vince's most difficult trial yet.

But the attempt had to be made. The Prince's Labyrinth awaited, intricate and merciless, filled with dangers physical and political. Venturing into the viper's nest left Vince at his most vulnerable. But some burdens cannot be refused or delayed.

The solitude of his ride into downtown LA gave space for final reflection upon past cases, relationships, regrets. All that had shaped Vince's principles over the decades.

As the tower's lights gleamed ahead through the night, Vince steeled himself. His battles through the decades had changed much, but never the conviction to fight for his ideals and code of honor, no matter the opposition. Come what may in the court of elders, Vince would not bend before anyone but those that deserved it. Even if it would lead to a bad standing with some of the elders.

Equality was a pipe dream in their society. A society were your age and generation mattered more than just doing the right thing. Unless you went overboard and threatened the Masquerade, then even your age or vampiric generation couldn't safe you.

4. Public Nightmare

Before Vince would meet the Prince, he returned to the first nightclub that was now cordoned off with police tape flapping loosely across the marquee. Vince stood across the street, hidden by shadows, grimly surveying the aftermath of last night's chaos.

Word had spread through kindred circles all day of the ugly Masquerade-breaking incident. Sensationalist news had already labeled it a nightmarish cult attack. Once humanity caught a visceral glimpse of the true darkness walking beside them, controlling the narrative would become nearly impossible.

Cleaning up this public relations mess would fall to the Camarilla now. Their responses tended towards two extremes - hide the truth with bribes, violence and political pressure, or exploit the situation to tighten control, eliminating rivals and problematic elements.

Vince wanted neither. This was a symptom of a larger sickness. But every effort he made towards unraveling the mystery only led deeper into darkness. He felt like Alice in Wonderland going down the rabbit hole.

Vince tensed as a sleek black car rolled up and parked outside the club. Its tinted window rolled down, revealing the distinctive face of Seneschal Larissa, the Prince's high representative. Vince hesitated. He was not eager for another round of her pointed inquiries so soon after the last fiasco a few month back. But avoiding her notice might seem suspicious. Vince steeled himself and approached the car.

"Seneschal. I expected the Sheriff here, not you."

Larissa eyed him coolly. "Clean-up is handled. I'm here ensuring it stays that way." She gestured at the club. "Can't have human authorities blundering into our affairs."

Her gaze turned razor-sharp, seeming to cut right through Vince. "Rumors are circulating you were present during this... unfortunate incident. I hope for your sake they're exaggerated."

"I intervened to prevent further exposure," Vince replied neutrally.

Larissa's expression was unmoved. "So the rumors have some truth. Reckless. And now we have to absorb the fallout of your disastrous heroics too."

She withdrew a folder from her valise, scribbling a quick note before passing it to Vince. "You will present yourself at the Prince's Elysium tonight to provide a full account to the Prince. Do not be late."

The car pulled away before Vince could argue, that he already had been 'invited'. He watched the car disappear into the night, fist tightening on the folder. His presence at Court tonight boded ill, but the die was cast. All he could do was present the truth with his passion and conviction, and hope to steer them towards his point of view.

A faint sound drew his attention upwards. Far overhead, a silhouette crouched atop the club's roof, cape fluttering behind it. Piercing eyes regarded Vince beneath the figure's broad hat. A scar curved across his pallid visage. Vince had heard whispers of this mysterious kindred who came and went like a ghost - the Prince's aloof Scourge, hunter of lawbreakers.

Their gaze held for a tense moment. Then the imposing figure dissolved into the shadows, leaving no trace or clue to his purpose. Nosferatu, always so dramatic.

Vince watched the spot a moment longer, feeling uneasy. Then he too departed into the night. Many forces now circled these events. Vince could not afford to lose focus, or miss a single step.

5. The Price of Secrecy

Vince's motorcycle rumbled through the streets towards the tower looming ahead in downtown LA. The Prince's citadel posed an architectural boast - her power and prestige rising above the common rabble. Within glittered the jewel of the Camarilla Prince's lavish Elysium, where Vince had been summoned tonight. He wasn't a fan of politics and went only reluctantly, even when summoned by the Prince herself.

He mentally prepared himself for the ordeal as he parked his bike and ascended the stairs towards the carved doors guarded by imposing kindred. Vince left his weapons with the coat check, as required for any Elysium. But he felt naked without them in this den of sharks.

The opulent chamber within teemed with immaculately dressed vampires arranged in knots of tense conversation. New outrages had a way of exposing grudges and rivalries simmering beneath the society's facade. The blood on the streets was already emboldening factions to jockey for advantage. Instead of focusing on ending the danger to all of their kind.

Through the crowd Vince caught sight of Jeanette holding court in a provocative red dress, laughing brightly but eyes ever-watching. They had not spoken since the disastrous club raid. Vince still was uncertain of her allegiances in this shadow conflict. Even more surprising was that her twin wasn't attending. At least, Vince hadn't spotted her yet.

Before he could approach, a chilling hush fell over the room. The assembled kindred parted for the entrance of three imposing figures - Seneschal Larissa, cloaked Scourge Damien, and finally the Prince herself.

The Prince radiated power and pride, exquisitely attired with a golden circlet, commanding all eyes. A typical kindred of clan Ventrue in Vince's eyes. Her gaze settled on Vince, beckoning him forward. Knees bent in bows around him as Vince approached the elders and knelt himself to keep the appearance of acknowledging her rule over LA.

"Prince Vanessa. I come at your summons."

The Prince settled onto her finely decorated throne while Vince rose. "Mr. Stone. I hoped to meet under more fortunate circumstances. You've been busy since arriving in my city."

Vince chose his next words carefully. "I aim only to see justice done."

Vince hated that he had to mince his words and play along with this charade. He had been in LA for the last 3 years and met her on several occasions, and it was always the same dance.

The Prince's ageless features observed him impassively. "Justice can be complex. Often there are... complications. Unintended outcomes." She flicked an imperious hand. "Tell us of the recent incident."

Vince recounted the night's events with measured honesty, framing his intervention as preventing further tragedy. The Prince listened, her thoughts and mood well hidden, until Vince finished.

"You make a compelling case, Mr. Stone," she said coolly. "But this public infraction cannot be ignored. The code that binds our society must be respected."

She leaned forward, ancient gaze boring into Vince's. "The penalty is clear for such transgressions. Are you prepared to accept the consequences?"

Vince met her eyes unflinchingly. Around him a deadly anticipation bristled through the crowd. His next words might condemn him irrevocably before this ultimate judgment seat.

"I accept just punishment for my actions that night," Vince replied solemnly. "But I fully believe intervening was right, whatever the cost."

Hushed whispers skirled around the chamber. Vince silently prayed his stand here might move their cold hearts, if not their minds. The Prince observed him a moment more. Then she leaned back, lips hinting at a smile.

"Since you came to my city, you showed courage and principles rare in these nights, Mr. Stone. I can respect that, if not officially condone them." She tilted her head thoughtfully. "For now, a formal reprimand will suffice. But do not test our patience again. Are we clear?"

Relief broke across Vince like a sunrise. "Very, your grace."

He bowed in earnest before the Prince, gratitude mixing with lingering unease at her veiled warning. But tonight's trial had ended well, against all odds. The Prince had even recognized the code he lived by. Hope remained, just like the life for the newly embraced he had saved.