[DFM]

His face is illuminated by the towering blaze.



"The warehouse..." He glances over at the pillar of smoke and fire before looking back at me. His voice is droll, almost academic. "Your handiwork, I presume?"

"Now I meet a fucking werewolf? Does everybody have to go through this much on their first night of this horrible shit?"

He laughs, or rather, he chuckles. Droll and academic, same as his voice.

"Not experienced much in the creatures of the night, are you? For future reference, you might keep in mind that werewolves...aren't in the habit of introducing themselves."

"Oh." I'm not exactly ready to let my guard down. "So you're not going to try to kill me, then?"

He scratches his chin and I can't tell if he's just being an ass or if he's actually thinking.

"Well, I hadn't planned on it."

"That's good enough for me. Who are you?"

He smiles. Droll and academic.

"I see that my reputation, for once, does not precede me. My name is Beckett. And just to ease your potential paranoia, I'm not watching you. We've just coincidentally arrived at the same place at the same time. For different reasons, I imagine. So sorry if I unnerved you."

"As long as you're not trying to kill me or happen to be a girl hitting on me, I've got no real problem with being unnerved anymore."

"If you could tell me, have you seen or felt anything... strange, since your embrace?"


Hah.







Heehee.






HahahahahahahaahHAHAHAHAHAHA

HAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHA



"Yes, actually."



"Like what, for instance?"

"There was a vampire in Santa Monica who was insane, and I mean scary insane. She had this schizophrenia thing, where she thought she was two people and both of them were horrible somehow and her father... Jesus, she's fucking messed up."

"She's undoubtedly Malkavian. Or should I say, they are undoubtedly Malkavian."

"No, 'she's' correct at the moment."

"I see. Has there been anything else?"

"Alright, there's a... well, there was, this fucking demon hotel by the beach. It's like the fucking Shining in there, like some portal to hell with this angry fucking ghost."

"A ghost?" He stifles what sounds like a small laugh. "Quite ordinary. I generally pay wraiths no mind. All but a few are willing to give up their secrets."

"Um..." I think for a moment. "There's these vampires called thin bloods. I don't know how common that is..."

"Thinbloods." I can almost see his eyes light up. "They're a fascination of mine. They are considered a weaker, more human-like Kindred, hence the name 'thin-blood', but they are sired same as any of us. I've heard a large collection of them live in this city. They're one of the reasons I'm in Los Angeles."

"Oh, is that what you were looking for then, when you asked?"



"Most of my contacts here report sensing something unusual in the night air, like a sense of dread or pressure... but I'm not a native to these parts, so I can't tell if it's irregular. And since you're still fresh, perhaps you're not attuned to it."

"I'm not a native either, so I wouldn't be much help even if I wasn't."

"Ah, well. Pleasure making your acquaintance, but there are rumblings for me to discredit. We shall, I'm certain, meet again. Or never again. Goodnight, young one... and do be careful. If word gets out about the warehouse... well... the Sabbat can be... antagonistic."


It's a quick enough walk back to Tung's empty tanker to deliver the news. Seems like he already heard.



"Nice work, cupcake. I felt that explosion a mile away. It's all over the news, too. Man, there's gonna be some pissed off Sabbat just howlin' for blood tonight, hehehe."

"Hey, you know someone named Beckett?"

"Beckett? I know of him. Why?"

"I ran into him after I took care of the warehouse."

"Really? Something big must be happening if he's in town."

"What's he do?"

"Beckett is... a historian of sorts. He's unearthed more vampire lore than anyone. That's all Beckett does; seek the truth behind our... condition."

"Um... speaking of the truth..."



"What is it, cupcake?"

"Um... earlier you mentioned 'my kind' and I was just wondering what it was... you meant by that."

"Just talking about your clan, that's all."

"...I didn't join any clan."

"No, it's- Jesus you really just fell off the boat. Clans are just bloodlines. Traits passed down from Sire to Childe since the third generation."

"So... what am I?"

"You're a Ventrue, cupcake."

"What... are Ventrue like?"

"Leaders. They get a bad rap if you ask me. Everyone likes to take shots at the man in charge, but when it comes to getting the job done, the Ventrue know how to step up. They can take the heat."

"...You're not just saying that because I'm one, right?"

He laughs. "I'm talking about powerful Ventrue. You're just a pup."

"Um... I actually had some other questions..."

I ask him about vampires, about feeding, about the current state of vampire politics that everyone seems to be so worked up over. Apparently there's three main groups of vampires, the Camarilla, the Anarchs, and the Sabbat. The Camarilla are basically all the organized vampires, the bulk of their population. They're like a governmental body that helps keep law and order among the various vampire clans. They also enforce the Masquerade, which is basically a bunch of rules about not letting humans wise up to what you are. The Anarchs are... revolutionaries. They oppose Camarilla rule because of its hierarchal nature and believe that everyone should be treated equally. A respectable but unrealistic goal, according to Tung. The Sabbat are bad horror movie monsters. They want to round up Kine to use as cattle and are in an unending war with the Camarilla, who they see as 'pawns of the elders'.

It's also apparently okay for me to feed on living people, since they don't turn into vampires unless you follow some complicated process. They'll just pass out and wake up a little while later, dizzy and not sure how they got there.

I thank Tung and grab a cab to LA, hoping to find LaCroix and tell him about my success. Hopefully he'll let me run around free like a good little undead girl.













"Let's drain it."

"Let's stake it and leave it out for the sunrise."



"Before you do anything... I want its teeth."



"Wake up, you stupid shit. We know it was you, and you're going to be an example to all the other dickless clowns who think they can cross the Sabbat and live. Camarilla fuck."

He kicks me in the side of the head. Like it didn't already hurt enough.



"Those of you in the first few rows, will get wet."

He doesn't get a chance to turn around from addressing his imaginary audience when a gunshot blows off the side of his head.



"Son of a bitch."



"Leave. Now."



"You can't take us all, Rodriguez. What are you gonna do, shoot us?"

He taps something on his hip.



The Sabbat shovel head turns back to me.



"I'm going to make it that much worse for you when I find you again."



I remember him from the courtroom. I guess that's twice I owe him. There's a flash of movement, and the shovel head's back from wherever he ran off too. In the blink of an eye, he's on top of Rodriguez.

"Good effort."







"Execution could use a little work."



"Should've been more careful, newbie. This ain't the burbs."

I pull myself back onto my feet. Head still aches.

"Thanks. For the courtroom, too."

"Kid, 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."



"Watch yourself out there. This is a mean existence."

Whelp we're done with Santa Monica for awhile, moving onto Downtown LA and the next area of the game. I am really tired as per usual so I don't know what the last part of the update was about and it probably really is awful like amazingly so. My eyes hurt so I'm going to go do something about that now next update will be done when not I am doing bad sleep.