The best kind of person is one who can find the good in tragedy. That’s what my mother always said, anyway. I’d like to say that makes me the best kind of person, but I don’t think she meant other people’s tragedies.
I started with guns. My first sale was an MP7 A1 to a Coyote named Juan Zavala. It’s just like any other start up business, you knock on doors, make calls, make connections and meet suppliers. There’s a lot of travel and a lot of haggling, but if you’re good you can turn even the most coup-happy people’s republic into a steady, repeat customer. Even when I had enough money rolling in to hire an army of assistants and salespeople, I always met clients face to face, and almost always walked away with a sale.
When profits ballooned big enough, I started branching out into other weapons systems. Armored transports, battle tanks, combat helicopters, surface to surface missiles, all sold to the highest bidder without bias and without prejudice. My clients started calling me the Merchant of Menace, a one stop shop of death and destruction with a corporate army that could rival most third world nations.
I was in Los Angeles to meet a buyer from some up and coming liberation army in Venezuela set to overthrow the
last liberation army who managed to make it big. It wasn't’t until after I got there that they called and said they’d be running late. They were having trouble getting their man out of the country since the next up and coming coup thought it’d cut out the middle man and just skip to blowing away the liberation army. Rather than fly back to Mogadishu early, I decided to stay in LA for a few days and wait for news from Venezuela, unofficially taking some R&R.
His name was David Arundel. I met him at a political good will party the first night I was there. We chatted at first, then went from idle banter to actual conversation. We talked about the world, about politics, about the plight of we Nouveau Riche. I didn’t know what it was about him, but he seemed so… right. He was handsome, he was charming, he was intelligent and he already had a fortune so I knew he wasn’t after mine.
Of course,
now I know what it was about him.
We went to his hotel room, he said he was only here on business. Same as me. It isn't as upscale as I'd expected but for some reason, I don't really notice. He's a charmer, I'll give him that. He looked like he was born to wear that suit, but he looks even better with it off. We fool around, have some drinks. His skin's too cold. He says he wants to show me something special. Something I haven't seen. I tell him to try me. I feel something sharp on my neck, I can't tell what. For a second I think he's trying something from the S&M manuel but then... then I don't remember anything.
All I remember is snapping awake in a cold sweat. Except I wasn't sweating.
I'm not groggy, and I don't know why. If anything I feel more awake than I ever have. I can hear, see and smell things with a clarity that almost knocks me off my feet. Did he drug me? What the fuck am I on? I'm still in the hotel... so is he.
He's sitting in a chair and watching me, says he's been there all night. It's almost morning now. He looks kind of nervous. He says he's sorry, and that he hopes I can forgive him if things go wrong.
"If things go wro-"
I barely have time to get the question out before the doors kicked open. A monster bursts through the doorway and hurls something towards David like a major league pitcher.
It's a wedge, something shaped like a steak. It pierces straight through his heart and he's almost knocked off the chair from the force of the throw. Panic. I don't know what's happening and I don't care, I'm get-
Everything goes dark.
I can feel something being ripped from my chest and my eyes blink open. I'm on a stage. I'm on my knees. Hands are tied behind my back. Great. Executed on camera by some no budget terrorist cell. So ends the merchant of menace. I can hear a voice from somewhere else on the stage.
"...apologies for interrupting your business, or other prior engagements may have had this evening. It’s unfortunate that the affair that draws us here tonight is a troubling one. "
That doesn't sound anything like a terrorist cell. Not even a high budget one.
A man in suit strolls past me, talking to the assembled crowd. There's some kind of gorilla behind him. I can't make the crowd out clearly, but none of them scream normal. I don't even want to think about who they are or what they're going to do to me.
"We are here because the laws that govern our society, the laws that form the very fabric of our existence, have been broken."
"As Prince, I am within my rights to grant or deny the Kindred of this city the privlage of siring. Many of you have come seeking permission, and I have endorsed some of these requests."
"But the accused that stands before you was not denied permission. Indeed, my permission was never sought at all. They were caught shortly after the embrace of this... Childe."
"It pains me to announce the sentence, as until now I had considered the accused a valuable member of the community, and a personal friend. I cannot, however, allow my personal feelings to interfere with my duty to you, and the accused must be dealt with before he endangers us all."
"Know that I am no more a judicator than I am a servant of the laws that govern us all."
"Let tonight's proceedings act as a reminder to us all, that we must adhere to the laws that bind our society, or risk endangering all of our blood."
He kneels down and looks David in the eye, whispers something I can't quite make out. David looks angry. The man in the suit stands up and walks away.
"Let the penalty commence."
I turn away. Someone in the crowd does, too. I heard a rush of air, the cleaving of flesh and bone, and I hear the heavy thud of the sword hitting wood. I turn back, expecting to see David's head rolling down the stage.
"Which brings us to the fate of the ill-begotten progeny."
It's all a bad dream. A B-Rated bad dream.
"As you know, without a sire, most Childer are doomed to walk the Earth never knowing their place, their responsibilities, and most importantly, the laws they must obey. Therefore, I have decided that-"
"
THIS IS BULLSHIT!"
A man from the crowd stands up, yelling. Two of his friends hold him back.
Murmurs. Snarls of dissent. Another section begins to stand, all of them looking like they're ready to tear through an army with their bare hands.
The man in the suit watches them quietly.
"If Mr. Rodriguez would let me finish."
"I have
decided to let this Kindred live. They shall be instructed in the ways of our kind and granted the same rights and privileges we all share. Let no one say I am unsympathetic to the plights and causes of this community."
I don't pay attention to anything for the next while. Everyone starts to file out. Someone undoes the bindings on my wrist. I sit there on the stage and look at the pile of ash where David was. I tell myself I should get some medication, maybe see a shrink. I don't think dreams like this are normal. Everyone's gone. The man in the suit is talking at me. He takes my hand and helps me up.
"Your Sire, tragic, my apologies. You see, there is a strict code of conduct all of us must... must... adhere to if we wish to survive. When someone, anyone, breaks these laws, they undermine the well worn fabric of our centuries old society and place every last one of our blood in danger."
"You understand my... predicament. Allowing you to live makes me directly responsible for your subsequent behavior. So what I offer is not generosity, but an opportunity to transcend the fate woven for you by your Sire. This is your trial. You will be brought to Santa Monica. There, you will meet an agent by the name of Mercurio, and he will detail your labors. I have shown you great clemency, fledgling, prove that it was more than a wasted gesture.
Don't come back, until you do."
What the
fuck?