[DFM]

I've always had some kind of weird graphical glitches with the Dane level where the blood is always flickering and disappearing, so most of it doesn't actually appear on these screenshots.




I can't really say it's refreshing to breathe fresh air again, but I'll say it anyway because the Last Round smells and everyone there is some kind of stink golem.


It is refreshing to breathe fresh air again.



I don't know why they're trying to recruit me, or why Nines has such an interest in keeping me alive. Did they ever think that, maybe, telling a cape in an ivory tower that they need to come live in the dirt with everyone else is as hard a sell as telling everyone in the dirt they need to be ruled by the cape in the tower?

And let's say they do get rid of the Camarilla. Do they really think the Camarilla invented squabbling for power? Do they think they'll never have to worry about someone, god forbid, taking charge and getting something done?

And what about, say, the Sabbat? Without Camarilla protection are the Anarchs really going to be able to hold them off forever? Because they've done such a bang-up job fighting the Camarilla, surely they can handle something that gives the Camarilla elders a run for their money.


Narcissistic idiots.



"Santa Monica. Drop me off by the pier."

According to the prince, there's a boat waiting for me near the beach at the pier. I'm supposed to take it out to the Dane and carry out my investigation. He also said there should be someone waiting for me on the boat. Hopefully it's not the 'with-a-shotgun' kind.

"An explosion rocked the warehouse district earlier tonight, sending several fireballs into the sky and causing police to issue a lockdown of the entire district. Initial evidence suggests the warehouse in question was being used in an illegal arms smuggling operation. Investigators have speculated that the explosion may have been caused by the mishandling and accidental detonation of military grade explosives..."

The newsman on the radio drones on as the taxi drives past the coast, nearing the pier. He pulls to the gravel shoulder of the road and idles the car. I dig through my purse, hoping to find some money underneath the sea of ammunition. I'd left the sword with Tung, no sense trying to take it everywhere and I wouldn't need it with a ship full of cops, anyway.

"No charge." I can't place his accent exactly, but it's definitely eastern European. He smiles, fangs glistening in the moonlight.

"Oh. Thanks."

I get out of the cab and half walk, half fall down the muddy hill towards the beach. No sense trying to stay clean or dignified anymore and the shortest distance between two points...

When I get to the bottom, I hoof it forward without trying to brush myself off. Halfway to the dingy LaCroix promised me, I see someone I wasn't expecting.

"Hey!"



I almost don't recognize him not covered in blood. He seems happy to see me.

"You, hey, what can I say? You preserved my ass. I really appreciate you not sayin' anything and I want you to know, I take of guys who do me favors. I ain't gonna be able to match what you could get your hands on before, but from now on, you ever need equipment, info, anything, you come see me at my apartment. Don't hesitate."

"Hey, Mercurio. Good to see you back in one piece, that was pretty quick."

"Yeah, I tell you, that blood you guys got's an amazing thing. Helped close up most of the wounds and this back-alley patch fixed up the rest. I needed that beating. Good reminder not to overestimate my ability. Last time it's gonna happen."

"Glad I could help." I smile and suddenly decide trying to get the mud off my rags would be a good idea. "There anything else you need? I could head back to the beach house and bust some heads for you."

"Eh, yeah about that. I paid them a little visit earlier tonight. OD-ing's a painful way to go." There's a glimmer in his eye while he cracks his knuckles. "Especially when your kneecaps are on the floor next to you. What can I say, payback can be a bitch like that."

I can't help but laugh a little. "Say, you think you could grab me some shotgun rounds?"

"Like... regular old Wal*Mart buckshot? Why you need that?"

"To shoot things, I guess. I heard shotguns were good against vampires."

"Aw, hell, we can do better than that, can't we? Mercurio and the Merchant of Menace working together? I could hook you up with some Dragon's Breath or at least a whole SPAS 15."

Dragon's Breath. I've heard the name, but-

"Oh my god, I'd forgot that existed. I always thought it was stupid as hell, but it'd actually slaughter vampires, wouldn't it?"

"Damn straight. Throw 'em in a sawed-off and you're a regular Bruce Campbell."

"Could you do that for me? I've got to get going, LaCroix wants... well, you know. LaCroix stuff."

"Yeah, tell me about it. I'll be at my place, stop by if you need anything."

I smile and wave before wading out to my rubber raft.



The Elizabeth Dane is anchored a little ways off of the shore, not far from where it was first spotted. I follow LaCroix's directions and pull up alongside of the starboard stern.



I climb the ladder and as I near the top, I hear someone whisper my name. I look to my left and see a policeman waving me closer, glancing around nervously.



I sneak over towards him, trying to keep my head down. He takes one look at me and almost does a spit take.



"What the hell happened to you? For Christ's sake, tell LaCroix that if he wants me to keep helping him out, he's gotta start working with me. I can't keep doing this if he's gonna send high school dropouts who don't know enough to wear something that would blend in. Jeez, what kind of Einstein doesn't think to at least show up dressed like an investigator... a coast guard guy... something."

"I had some trouble, alright? You can maybe tell? It was come like this or not come at all."

"Alright, look, I got you a copy of the initial report, and I can get you in to the cabin, but you gotta make yourself real scarce after that. Anybody catches you, I don't know you. And no goddamn flash photography, brainchild."

"Alright, where do I go?"



"Head down the stairs behind you and stay low. When you get down there, wait for me to call off the guy guarding Gangway A. As soon as he leaves, get your ass moving and DON'T let him see you. I'll give you a couple minutes but don't dilly-dally. In and out, k?"

"K."

"Take the stairs up to the security room, there'll be a computer in there. The password is Lighthouse. Lighthouse. All one word. You gettin' this?"

"Got it. Thanks for the help."



I start making my way cautiously down the stairs, when I see the blood staining the room. Gallons and gallons of it, sticking on the wall, pooling on the floor, even dripping from the ceiling.

No report on the fate of said crew.



I hug the wall until I get close to the gangway, grabbing the grating with my toes to keep from slipping on the blood. I'd worry about leaving footprints, but it's everywhere. There's a voice shouting from the side of the ship.

"Johnson! Check this out I just saw a baleen whale!"



The officer leaves, and I scramble as quietly as I can to the door, slipping on the red only once. I pass through the gangway and rest for a moment under the door by the stairs.



The ship rocks gently back and forth, the blood coating the hallway in massive splatters, like the people just exploded. There's gashes in the steel walls, all parallel in groups of four. I can hear blood dripping onto the floor, even over the moans of the ship and the noise of the ocean.

It shouldn't be that loud.



I head up the stairs towards the security room, entire ship groaning around me. I leave a trail of bare prints on the bloodless floor behind me.






That's going to scare the shit out of somebody.



I make my way to the computer station by the window.















There. Now to find... actually... I think I have an idea.







I grab the mouse of the second computer and steer the on deck camera towards the scene that seems to be getting the most police attention. Yellow police tape and armed officers surrounding the ruins of a shipping crate. The metal crate's been ripped into two pieces, like something exploded from the middle of it. Sitting in the between both twisted ends is a solid, elaborate stone coffin. Immaculate except for four streaks of blood near the lid.




Okay.










Alright.



Think.


Not the end of the world. Not the end of the world. This has gotta be a hoax. It's too perfect. Right? Why would it get back in the coffin? Why didn't it drink the blood of the crew instead of just killing them?

And if it was really what Jack said, Grandpa Munster would be flying around sucking out people's souls and casting fireballs at the shoreline.



Right?



Right.


So. No apocalypse. No Gehenna. Right. Probably just a hoax. No need to worry. If we were going to die, we'd already be dead. There. Myth busted. Hoax debunked. Give me a medal.



I sneak down to the records room to pick up the ship manifest LaCroix wanted. He'll be glad to hear that the entire thing is a ruse.







It probably says something about transporting some kind of rabid polar bear in a tin cage.


Humans, right?



I sneak back into the hallway, manifest in hand. Shit, the cops back to his post. I edge steadily closer, hoping to see a way past.



No way I'm going to get around him. Unless I can... maybe...

The words hiss out through my teeth, unnaturally distinct despite their volume and tone.

"Sleep."



His head drops down, he starts to sway a little and I can hear him snoring. I don't believe it.



I must use this power wisely.



I creep past the sleeping statue and back towards my powered raft.





I take the boat back to the pier, then cut through Santa Monica towards my favorite haunt, the Asylum, where LaCroix had said the taxi would be waiting.



Excellent.



I can't wait to give him the good news.



The drive back to LA doesn't take long. The stories on the news aren't anything too excited. A bus in some country somewhere turned up minus passengers. Large gelatinous creature washed up on the beach. Probably would've held my interested a day ago but ever since this ridiculous bullshit... well, it'll take more than that.



LaCroix's A-Team is waiting to great me.



"Evenin' missy. You back to see Mr. LaCroix again?"

"Nothing less."

"Yeah, he told me to send you up as soon as you came in. Lotsa people here to see Mr. LaCroix. Nice guy. He seems a little... different though. I wonder if he's a... ah, that's his business."

I don't know why, but something about so remarkably sad a man makes me want to talk to him. Probably the same thing that makes people keep watching Homer Simpson or Reality TV.

"How's it been going, Chunk?" I'm a little proud of myself for not giggling like an idiot at his name.

"Ah, you know. I'm keeping the undesirables out and the innocent safe and secure. I'm the thin blue line that separates the crazies from the hardworking decent folk." He clears his throat and rubs his nose. "Yup, long as I'm around, Mr. LaCroix's got nothing to worry about."

"I'm sure he's grateful that you're here to protect him, Chunk."



I walk up and around to the elevator landing, and it opens for me a second time. It seems more polite now than anything.







"I've said all I need to, for now. You will be the first to hear anything, let me assure you."



Most of the vampires only acknowledge my presence with two second glances that combine confusion and disgust. As soon as they're gone, LaCroix jumps right to business.



"I don't have time for a monologue. Give me the... bullet points of what you saw."

"Crew was slaughtered, probably to the last man."

"And the Ankaran Sarcophagus, what did you see?"

"A..." I decide not to taint my report with personal bias. "The crate it was being stored in was torn apart. It... looks like the coffin was opened and then closed again from the inside. "

He grows noticeably more concerned.

"Opened? Let's not jump to conclusions." A man of rationality. I believe I quite like the Prince. "Give me the manifest and your notes, I'll sort this mess later. You may have noticed when you came in, the parade of malingering mollycoddles filing out."

"Hard to miss, yes.."



"Those were the primogen, this city's clan elders. A... worrisome bunch devoted first and foremost to the security of their own skin. Which, of course, is why they were here. It seems Alistair Grout, the Malkavian primogen, has either forgotten HOW to answer his phone again... or is missing."

"I wouldn't think an elder could just... go missing."

"Which is what has put the other primogen on edge. Grout's mansion is in the Hollywood Hills. I need you to pry Grout out of whatever crack he's crawled into and have him contact us."

"Of course. Is that all, sir?"

"Yes, for the moment. You know, with your ability and demeanor you will skyrocket to the top of this organization if you maintain your course, especially given your lineage"

It is kind of weird to be... 'born' into wealth and privilege, so to speak. I suppose I should be thankful David was a Ventrue and not a... Gangrel or some such awfulness.

"Thank you, sir. Is there anything else I should know before I start?"

"Yes, about Grout: as I said, Grout is the Malkavian primogen. His behavior and home are... eccentric, to say the least." LaCroix flicks his hand dismissively, his voice slightly lowering. "He's developed a paranoid bent lately, so you'll probably have to check under every bed in the place for him."

"Understood, I'll be on my way."

I turn to make my way out of the office.

"Oh yes, one more thing."



"I've established a Haven for you here in Los Angeles. The Skyline Apartments, Unit 4. Consider it a reward for your valued service and patronage. While I can't speak for the Camarilla at large, I take care of my people."

I take the elevator down to the lobby and step through the blast doors into the night air. Since the... incident with David, when I'm in the tower is the only time I've felt... right. Like I belonged. I owe Nines my life, and if he ever needs anything, I'll get it for him, but...

While I'm standing outside the doorway, someone comes up to me.

"Hey! Hey, uh, you!"