[DFM]

The inside of the bar is filled with smoke, bikers and eighties rock. Not my first choice of decor, but it beats the neon goth of the Asylum by a country mile.



I don't see any sign of Nines, so I start to head up the stairs when I'm stopped by a gray-skinned girl in a green beret who's most definitely a vampire.



"What's the matter? Sabbat chase you in here, Cammy?"

"Cammy?"

"Camarilla stooge, you Ventrue chucklefuck." Her accent's Californian, almost like something from the valley. She shoves me with one hand. It looks like a light tap, but it almost throws me into the wall.

"Hey, the fuck's your problem?"

"Oh Ho-Ho! You wanna know what my problem is? You are my god damn problem. Nines puts himself on the line twice saving your worthless life and you're still ready to lay it down for some cape in an ivory tower."

"A cape?"

"Cape, Cammy. Camarilla elders? The ones that've been around so long they think candlelight's a keen invention? You're doing their dirty work and you don't even know it."

"And why do you have such a plug in your butt about whose dirty work I do?"

"Ugh! Because you're so fucking stupid it pisses me off! You think LaCroix would have stopped counting his money long enough catch your back, Jack? He was ready to chop your fucking head off about five hours ago if Nines hadn't saved your ass. Shit. Looks like things worked out for LaCroix anyway. Got himself a new errand girl out of it."

"He got an associate."

I can't tell if she's going to laugh or vomit.



"Oh, that's real. Let me put it in perspective for you: the Camarilla claims every Kindred's part of the organization, regardless. You do something they don't like, even the tiniest, archaic infraction, well, you're Camarilla shitheel, so you get punished under their laws, like it or not."

"It's called basic order."

I think she's going to full on slug me this time.

"Basic order? Are you that fucking dense? You think vamps are going to suddenly start juggling cars in front of kine and setting fire to cities because there's no more Camarilla to chop their heads off when they miss curfew? Ugh! Get up there and talk to Nines before I pull your teeth out and stab you in the eyes with them."



Choosing a winning side:

Camarilla: 1

Anarchs: 0



I manage to reach the top of the stairs before I'm attacked again, voice full of mocking awe.



"Well, if it ain't the talk of the town; poster child for Camarilla benevolence. What does the prince have his little bitch doin' today?"

It might have been the redhead downstairs wearing my patience, but this shit is getting old.

"One more word comes out of that ugly face of yours and I'm tearing it off."

He laughs, still taunting. Fuck, it's like they're a bunch of frat boys.

"Oh, I see. Tryin' to start a brawl so the Camarilla sheriff has an excuse to come in and clean house. I don't think so. Ask the prince to show you the last punk who tried that trick. And while you're on the subject, tell him I want that ashtray back."

"Name."

He doesn't seem all that intimidated. Well, whatareyagonnado? I tried.

"Skelter. And before you get any ideas, you'd better keep in mind that I'll do whatever it takes to keep LA an anarch free state including putting down a know-nothing Camarilla mutt."

"Get fucked, Che. I'm here to see Nines."

He shrugs.

"So go on up and see him. You're free to do as you please, here."



Nines is leaning against the wall, tapping his hands to the beat of the rock music.



"You showed up. Good. Here's what I've got to tell you - and just so you know, I don't lecture, I don't rap, I'm no bureaucrat; I'm just a guy out of nowhere came to be involved in something five-hundred times bigger than you and me."

Another god damn speech.

"You've got a right to know the score. The Camarilla, this is the short of it - They operate a lot like a pyramid scheme. There's a bunch of these old timers at the top with God only knows what plots in mind. They lose their power, they die. They sired more to carry out their plans, and lookin' for a little power themselves, those Kindred sired for their own schemes and so on and on and on - it hurts my head just thinkin' about the mess. What it works out to is this: only a few people at the top have any real power."

"And the top starts with LaCroix."

"LaCroix? Shit... LaCroix's just the guy who backstabbed and wheeled-and-dealed his way into becoming king son of a bitch of all the local Camarilla. Him and any of the traitors who sided with the Cam, they'll get what's due."

I shake my head. Death to the Patriarchy. Viva La Revolution.

"Why do you care so much who's in charge?"

"Because I learned the way of this world during the depression. Bunch of old, rich bastards screwed the country, but did they suffer? No - the little people suffered. You can't trust the people at the top. The world'd be a better place without 'em."

"Better off without them? What exactly are you going to do?"



"Only thing you can do is get a group of people together who aren't assholes, find a place to put your feet up, and make some examples of the quote-unquote elite to keep the rest the hell out. Everyone's an equal here, the same thing this country used to be about. That's what LA has been, an Anarch Free State."

"Wait, the Camarilla's new here?"

"Yeah, the Camarilla was kicked out on their ass a long time ago. We didn't want to play their politics any more. Now LaCroix and crew pop in like they never left? Uh-uh. No goddamn way. Their bullshit doesn't apply to us."

"Not a fan of the guy in charge either, huh?"

"LaCroix represents everything I hate. The Camarilla, stuck up aristocrats, rich businessmen, crooked politicians... the only place LaCroix belongs is in an urn."

I suppose he isn't completely unjustified. I'd rather be a nobody with a bunch of other nobody's than someone else's bootlick.

Of course, I'm already past 'bootlick' and probably verging on 'special agent'.

"But you're prince of the anarchs. A little hypocritical, isn't it?"

"No such thing as 'prince of the anarchs' and again, newbie, don't throw those kinds of words around lightly, you're risking a beat down. I've fought to keep LA free since I was embraced. Long time later, I'm one of the only ones left that hasn't bit it or switched sides. Most veteran soldier on the battlefield."



"Look, the Camarilla threw you out on your ass, so here's what you need to know if you want to survive in this life: One, you get careless, that blood'll make you into a monster. And if you rampage around here you get put down. Two, don't kill when you feed - no reason to. In this city, there's lots of ways to slake the Beast without leaving a trail of dead. Three, the Camarilla's full of shit. Four, watch your back, always. And lastly, learn how to fight, kid. A speech ain't gonna save your ass when you're staring down the barrel of a shotgun."

It only takes a moment, but I think I might be able to get something out of this.

"Could you... help me with that? Learning to fight, I mean. You've got know a lot more about than I do..."

"After pickin' your ass up off the pavement back there, yeah. I can tell you don't even know the basics." He moves me slightly away, allowing me space to pantomime his movements. "Hold your hands up like this, and keep your body at an angle - makes you harder to hit. No, no, keep your thumbs outta your fists. Put your weight into your punches. There, like that. Better, newbie."



"Alright, look, you've got things to do. But remember, once you square things with LaCroix don't give that son of a bitch the time of day. He's been looking for ways to turn you to ash since he walked you off that stage."

I turn away from Nines. He seems like a stand up guy. A little vehement but... I'm hesitant to call him misguided. Law and Order and Hierarchies really doesn't seem to fit him at all. And the bit about the pyramid scheme was probably true... of course, I don't care if I'm at the absolute top. Queen of LA would be fine for awhile.

I see jack sitting at one of the corner tables, smoking what might as well have been the same cigar he had earlier that night.

I never miss a chance to reunite with old friends.



"Well well well, looky who made it back in one piece. How was Santa Monica, kiddo?"

"Wonderful, I'm taking the kids next summer."

"I know, real stroll on the beach, right? So, d'ya score a lotta skeeball tickets down on the pier there?"

"Yeah, but I barely had time to spend them between all the cotton candy and yummy bubble gum tarts."

"Hehe. Can't imagine you did. Not to mention being pushed around by every vampire with a week of seniority over you, am I right?"

"Pretty much, yeah."

"That's usually the way the story goes. Same old bullshit politics from when you were alive, huh? Don't it make you just wanna rip somebody's spine out? What? You sayin' that's just me?"

"You and all the other Anarchs, probably."

I relax a little more in my chair. Jack wasn't on the seer's list of trust-able people but it damn well feels like he should be. Rebel without a cause or no, I can't imagine him being anything less than straight.

"Hey, Jack? Have you heard anything on the Elizabeth Dane?"

He leans his head back, looks like he's sizing me up for something.



"Why, plannin' on visiting?"

"...Yeah, actually. LaCroix wants me to snoop around."

"Oh really? Did he tell you about the Ankaran Sarcophagus?"

"He said it was onboard, yeah."

"Yeah, well, maybe I should fill you in on the details. That sarcophagus is bad news. Kindred around the globe have been goin' batshit since it was discovered."

LaCroix did seem awfully worried it was something more than a box with a mummy in it.

"Why? What's the big deal?"



"Word is, there's an ancient asleep in there. One of the fathers; one of the vampires that, if you traced your lineage way back, there's a chance it'd end with him at the very root."

"So he's an old fogy taking a nap."

"Ancients don't just nap, kiddo. They sleep whole ages away. And when they wake up, they're hungry."

"...How hungry?"

"End of the world hungry."

"Oh."

"The Kindred call it Gehenna, our own version of the biblical apocalypse. The way the elders tell it, it starts when the ancients rise to devour their children."

"...That's not really what's happening, is it?"

"Guess you're gonna be the one to find out!" He laughs and leans in. "Hey, good luck! Try not wake ole' Grandpa Munster and kill the world."