Chapter 1: Bloody Nights
1. Junkie Frenzy
The night was humid and thick with the scent of blood. Vince stalked the dark alleys of downtown LA, his senses primed for the hunt. As a private eye of the night, he'd been tracking a vicious new drug that was hitting the streets and driving the Kindred of LA into a frenzy. Junkies high on the glowing red pills were violating the Masquerade left and right, their hunger unchecked for no apparent reason. The Camarilla had charged Vince with finding the source and stopping it fast, before the humans learned more.
Vince adjusted his leather jacket, feeling the weight of his Glock in its shoulder-holster. His footsteps were silent as he scanned the area. Most humans had the good sense to avoid this part of town after dark. But the Kindred stalked these streets, their domains poisoning the city from within.
A scream pierced the darkness. Vince sprang into motion, a shadow detaching from deeper shadows. He rounded the corner to see a thin and neglected looking girl pinned against a brick wall by a massive figure. The attacker's face was twisted in the grip of the Beast, his fangs elongating as he went for the girl's tender neck.
Vince didn't hesitate. He grabbed the vampire and threw him off the girl with enough force to send him crashing through a pile of wooden pallets. Vince placed himself between the girl and her assailant.
"Get out of here," he growled. She stared at him for a moment, eyes wide, before fleeing into the night.
The frenzied vampire regained his feet, blood dripping from his mouth. His claws flexed as he sized up his new prey. Vince slowly removed his sunglasses, revealing his own icy blue eyes and the beast that lurked within. He slipped into a fighter's crouch, ready to act.
"Back off if you want to see another night," Vince rumbled.
The junkie vampire hissed, undeterred. He feinted left then pounced with preternatural speed, a blur of fangs and claws. But Vince was faster. He stepped into the attack and smashed his elbow into the vampire's temple. Stunned, the frenzied Kindred stumbled back. Vince pressed the advantage, landing punishing body blows followed by an uppercut that snapped his opponent's head back violently.
The vampire collapsed to his knees, whimpering piteously. Vince's fangs itched to descend but he kept tight control. He forcibly calmed the Beast within before it could take hold.
"Who's supplying you?" Vince demanded, hauling the junkie up. When he got no reply beyond whimpers, Vince slammed him against the brick wall.
"Give me a name!"
The vampire shuddered. "I don't know... a guy... he finds me... gives me the red stuff..."
Vince scowled. It wasn't much to go on. He debated his next move - this junkie was a risk to the Masquerade but Vince followed his own code, not the Camarilla's. As the inner debate raged, the vampire made Vince's mind up for him. With a guttural cry, he surged against Vince's grip, snapping and clawing wildly. Vince responded with a brutal knee to the stomach, doubling his opponent over. A vicious elbow strike to the back of the neck severed the spine from the skull with a sick crack. The frenzied vampire crumpled into torpor. Vince cleaned his jacket, mind racing. This attack was just one of many lately. Someone was trying to spark an all-out war between the factions. The night was young but time was running out. It wouldn't be too long till the kine would catch on.
2. Masquerade Meltdown
Vince stalked through the shadows, lost in his thoughts. The junkie's attack was precisely what the Camarilla feared - reckless violence that risked breaching the Masquerade. Whoever was behind this new drug seemed intent on igniting open war between the factions and exposing the kindred to the kine.
Ahead, the nightclub pulsed with light and music. Vince eyed the line of giddy college kids and restless predators waiting to get inside. He grimaced. Too many witnesses. But the club also offered temptation and prey to any hungry vampires. It was a likely a hunting ground. Vince mingled with the crowd, senses alert for any signs of the supernatural. He hoped to intercept any junkies before they could feed and frenzy publicly.
The bouncer waved Vince inside, not daring to stop the imposing trenchcoat-clad figure. Once within, Vince's hearing was assaulted by pounding music, raucous laughter and drunken shouts creating an audio bedlam.
He scanned the sea of bodies gyrating on the dance floor. So much warm pulsating blood ripe for the taking. Vince felt the Beast stir in response. He crushed the instinct down. He was here to hunt the hunter, not prey on kine. Still, he had to be cautious. Even veteran vampires could be overwhelmed by temptation in an environment like this.
Vince stalked the perimeter, probing shadowy corners for concealed threats. Finding none, he bellied up to the bar and ordered a whiskey to blend in. He kept one eye on the dance floor while scanning the club patrons around him. His investigation thus far indicated the supplier targeted those already close to the edge, gradually reeling them in. Junkies were often oblivious to how far they'd fallen until it was too late.
On Vince's left, two college boys clumsily tried to chat up a pair of girls who responded with eye-rolls. On his right, a lanky youth in ratty jeans argued with the bartender, demanding more booze despite clear signs of being drunk already. The kid's eyes were wild and desperate, pupils dilated unnaturally.
Vince tasted the air - over the excessive club scents lingered a telltale metallic tang. His muscles tensed. The kid was a user alright, and he was close to the edge. This was a catastrophe waiting to happen. Vince had to get him out of here fast.
He grabbed the kid's shoulder. "Time to call it a night, kid."
The kid whipped around with a snarl, fangs bared and claws erupting from his fingers as he shook off his human disguise. The Beast was riding him hard now. "Back off! I'll tear your throat out!"
Patrons nearby screamed as the kid's transformation shattered the Masquerade. Vince grimly assessed the situation - too late to avoid a scene, have to limit the damage. He dragged the snarling vampire towards the fire exit. Bouncers converged to stop Vince but he tossed them aside like rag dolls.
Chaos erupted. The kid broke free and pounced on the nearest human. Screams and gunshots rang out as Vince tackled the junkie vampire. They crashed through the fire exit and tumbled into an alley behind the club. Vince pinned the kid's arms but the kid still managed to rake a claw across his face.
"Get it together, kid! You need to stop. Now!"
The wild-eyed youth continued to struggle. "You don't understand, man. I NEED this!"
Vince slammed the junkie against the alley wall. "You'll destroy us all if you keep this up." Vince hesitated, then extended his fangs. "Stand down or join torpor. Your choice."
The kid's eyes widened in fear and he went limp. Vince held him a moment longer to be sure he was cowed. Then he clubbed the kid's temple and watched the vampire slump down.
Vince checked the alley entrance. The club patrons were focused on the mayhem inside. No witnesses to this violation. He glanced down at the unconscious vampire.
"Damn kid. What have you gotten yourself into?"
He needed to get this junkie off the streets. But more importantly, Vince had to cut this outbreak off at the source. Tonight made it clear - these random attacks were just the beginning. Things were about to get a whole lot worse for the kindred of LA.
3. Enter Jeanette
Vince prowled the streets, wiping the last of the junkie's blood from his knuckles. He had dropped the unconscious vampire at a Camarilla safehouse to be watched until the drugs cleared his system. But containing the fallout was just a stopgap. This outbreak had to be shut down at its root before the Masquerade fully collapsed.
Vince's footsteps echoed down the empty boulevard lined with shuttered shops and offices. Dawn was still hours away and the kine had wisely deserted these streets to the creatures of the night. Vince preferred it this way - it was easier in the darkness without kine around.
He paused at a storefront. The windows of the ground floor clinic were barred and blacked out, but warm light glowed from the second story windows above. A painted sign read "Voerman Therapy Services" next to an open eye with a spiral pupils. Vince pressed the buzzer.
Vince couldn't help but chuckle. Therese Voerman had given her twin a mental health clinic to manage, while Therese kept managing the night club. And the vampires of LA said that Therese didn't have a sense of humor. Unbelievable.
After a moment, the door clicked open. Vince entered a reception area decorated with occult curios and disturbing paintings. The chemical scent of pharmaceuticals masked a trace of blood in the air. A speaker crackled to life.
"I've been expecting you, Mister...?" purred a female voice with the hint of an accent.
"Stone," Vince replied gruffly. "I'm here about the red plague."
"Come upstairs, darling. I believe we have much to... discuss."
Vince followed the spiraling steps up to the lit waiting room. Behind the desk sat a striking platinum blonde in a tight black dress that hugged every curve. Her smile was playful but her two-toned eyes were cold and assessing. Vince tasted her scent - Malkavian blood, and something else familiar he couldn't place. Probably her rumored twin sister.
"Leave your weapons with Bertram, they make me nervous," the blonde said with a smile, inclining her head towards an imposing nosferatu by the inner door. Her voice was honey and smoke.
Vince hesitated, reluctant to disarm. But if this woman had intel, he needed it. He removed his Glock and combat knife, leaving them with the nosferatu.
The blonde walked ahead through the doors, hips swaying enticingly. Vince followed to a sitting room with a crackling fireplace and shelves of strange curios. He gazed out the window at the LA skyline, restless as always indoors.
"Drink?"
He turned to see his hostess holding two wine glasses filled with a crimson liquid. Vince accepted one but did not drink.
The blonde sat gracefully, arranging herself decoratively on the velvet couch. "We haven't been properly introduced. I'm Jeanette Voerman, queen of this clubhouse for the sanity-challenged."
Vince gave a small nod. "Charmed. I'm-"
"Vincent Stone, yes I know darling. Your reputation precedes you, Mr. Night Eyes." Jeanette leaned forward. "I have a business proposal for you."
Vince raised an eyebrow. "I'm listening."
"This nasty drug causing kindred to go beastly is bad for my city. I want it stopped." She swirled her wine. "You and I share a similar goal it seems. I'm prepared to offer aid with your investigation, Mr. Stone."
"What's your angle?" Vince asked pointedly. He wasn't in the mood for Malkavian games.
Jeanette gave an exaggerated pout. "Must I have an 'angle'? Perhaps I just want peace in our city."
Vince crossed his arms. "Few in this city do anything without an angle."
Jeanette moved closer and traced a red nail down his chest. "You're hurting my feelings, Vince. But you're right, I admit. Let's just say I have a vested interest in maintaining order around here."
She leaned in, voice lowering conspiratorially. "I can provide information on distributors in this part of the city. Access to product samples we've...collected." She nuzzled his ear. "Such hard-to-find assets, yes?"
Vince didn't pull away, intrigued despite his suspicions. "And what would you want in return?"
Jeanette ran her tongue over her fangs. "Just keep me informed of progress darling. Call it professional courtesy."
Vince considered it. Having another inside ear in the volatile LA kindred community could prove useful.
"Alright Jeanette, you have a deal."
She grinned. "Excellent! We'll make a delightful team." She handed him a slip of paper. "My number. Call day or night if you need me."
Vince pocketed the note and stood. "I'll be in touch."
Jeanette smiled like a content cat. "Do come again soon. I so look forward to...collaborating."
Vince donned his weapons and left, his mind turning over this new partnership. Dealing with Malkavians always meant navigating their mad games. But if it brought down his prey, so be it. The hunt was on.
4. The Proposition
Vince parked his bike outside the nightclub, the engine rumbling to silence. Jeanette had called with an urgent tip - a major new shipment of the tainted drug was hitting the streets tonight. If he could track where it was headed, it might lead him right back to the source.
Vince stalked past the line of inked and pierced vampires waiting to get inside the club. The bouncer took one look at the imposing trenchcoat wearing figure and unhooked the velvet rope. Inside, the dark club was a wash of shadow and neon, packed with bodies and thrumming with primal music. Vince tasted the air, sorting through the competing smells of smoke, alcohol, sweat and perfume. He made his way through the crowd, his honed instincts overlaying the scene with the electric trails of supernatural creatures. Upstairs in the VIP lounge sat a concentration of kindred, their auras flickering like cold flames. Vince headed up, senses alert.
The occupy lounge was richly furnished, with plush leather couches and low tables. Scantily clad human pets lounged lazily beside vampires flashing money and bravado. In the back, five dangerous figures sat in tense negotiation. Vince recognized the local El Hermandad gang leader Lorenzo, accompanied by his ghoul enforcers. Across from them, a pale woman in red - Salvadora, a high level Sabbat priestess. Why wasn't he surprised that the Sabbat was somehow involved. And beside her, flicking a gold lighter, the massive horned figure of the Nosferatu Solomon.
Vince moved along the fringes towards them. As he approached, Salvadora's bodyguards moved to intercept him. Vince flashed his fangs.
"I'm expected," he rumbled.
The guards backed off warily. Vince turned his attention to the nervous figures at the table. "Evening all. I think you have something for me."
Lorenzo sneered. "We ain't selling to you, Cabron. This deal is spoken for."
"Not the drugs," Vince replied. "I want information. A sample, if you'll oblige."
Salvadora sized Vince up with black eyes. "If it isn't the lapdog of the tower himself. Why should we help you?"
Vince leaned on the table, ice blue eyes glinting. "Because I'm going to put a stop to these drugs one way or another. And when I learn who the supplier is, they and everyone involved will regret it."
Solomon exhaled a cloud of smoke. "You drive a hard bargain, Night Eyes. What do you offer in return for our...cooperation?"
"I won't kill you. Any of you." Vince waited a beat, watching nerves ripple around the table. "Leave this trade tonight and we all walk away clean, you have my word."
Lorenzo bristled. "We walk away with nothing while you take the prize? No deal."
With blurring speed, Vince grabbed the gang leader and slammed him onto the table, arm twisted behind his back. The bodyguards jumped to their feet but Vince was faster, leveling a pistol seized from Lorenzo's jacket.
"I tried asking nice." Vince tightened his grip, causing Lorenzo to groan. "Final offer."
Salvadora raised a hand and her guards settled uneasily. She turned to the pale female at her side. "Darling, be a dear and get Mr. Stone a taste. I believe his persuasive methods have convinced these gentlemen to see reason."
The pale woman opened her purse and withdrew a plastic bag with four red pills. She placed one reverently on the table.
Vince released Lorenzo and snatched up the sample. He tucked it safely away and stepped back, gun still trained on the group. "A pleasure doing business."
The gangsters scowled, the Sabbat members muttered darkly, but they let Vince withdraw without conflict. He kept the gun ready until he was outside. The sample in his pocket seemed to burn with forbidden promise, but he resisted its siren call of the sweet scent. Finally, he had a solid lead. Tonight's gamble had paid off - the Red Death was in his grasp. Now to find the source.
Vince peeled out, heading downtown to meet his recently acquired 'partner'. She had the intel networks that might help trace the drugs' path back to the rotten heart of this threat to the kindred. The night was young, and the real hunt was just beginning.
5. The Game Begins
Vince pulled up outside the Gothic nightclub, music pulsing from within. He slid the bike into an alley and approached the back entrance where two bruiser kindred stood guard. Vince didn't slow, meeting their challenge head-on.
"Private party tonight," one growled, fang glinting.
"I'm on the list," Vince replied.
The guard looked him over. "Nice try. Move along."
With sudden force, Vince seized the guard's throat and lifted him off his feet. "I don't ask twice."
The second guard moved to intervene but froze as Vince pressed a wrist-stake to his partner's jugular. They exchanged a tense look, then the guards reluctantly stood aside. Vince dropped the guard and entered the club.
He followed the hallway to private rooms reserved for elite clients. The guard at the final door took one look at Vince's icy gaze and wisely unlocked the entrance. Inside, Vince stepped into an opulent den of velvet, rich wood, and sensual art.
On a divan lounged a stunning platinum-blonde in a tight black dress split high on her thigh. Her heels tapped to the music as she sipped a glass of red vitae. She smiled up at Vince, strange eyes flashing.
"Mister Stone, you are late."
"Am I now, Jeanette? I came straight from an... acquisition." He pulled the drug sample from his coat and placed it on the table before her. "One dose."
Jeanette lifted the plastic bag, studying it closely. "Well done, my wolf. We have the scent."
She tucked the bag away and rose, circling Vince with a predatory gaze. "With my whispers in this city's dark places, and your talents for investigation, we will lay bare whatever cretin dares threaten this domain."
She trailed a nail along his shoulders as she circled. "Together, nothing is hidden from us. We see all."
Vince tracked her carefully. "Have your contacts given any leads on the drug's source?"
"Patience, darling." She gave him a coy look over her shoulder. "Business later. First, a drink to celebrate our partnership."
She moved to the bar and poured two glasses of blood-red wine. Vince accepted his warily.
Jeanette lifted her glass in toast. "To our joint success, Vince. And a memorable hunt."
They drank. The vitae was expertly aged, robust and complex on the tongue. Jeanette savored hers before setting the glass down.
"My girls at the clinic mentioned increased cases among the Dockside vagrants. An influx of product in that area may be likely."
Vince nodded thoughtfully. "Dockside's gangs provide easy distribution channels throughout the city."
"And discretion, for the right price." Jeanette smiled. "Shall we go fishing?"
"After you." Vince gestured towards the door.
Jeanette laughed softly. "Such chivalry! But dawn is near, and the docks unsafe by day." She moved closer, tracing a finger down his chest suggestively. "Stay with me. We can begin our hunt tomorrow eve."
Vince caught her hand firmly. "I prefer to work alone."
Jeanette pouted prettily. "You wound me, Vince." She leaned up and whispered in his ear. "I could make it worth your while..."
He ignored the effect of her body pressed against him. "Another time. I have much to prepare before nightfall."
Vince stepped back and bowed politely. "We'll speak tomorrow."
Jeanette grinned and teased some more, unable to hide her amusement. "Until then, Mister Stone."
For a moment, Vince saw the true Jeanette beneath the role she was playing for now. In a way, it was creepy to see Jeanette act more like her twin Therese.
Vince donned his hat andexited into approaching dawn. The game was on, the hunt his only mistress.