[DFM]

Not much to do until tomorrow, then. I should probably buy some more ammunition, wash or change my shirt, maybe a few other errands before I head to bed for the night. Day. Whatever. I turn the corner around LaCroix's building and stare for a few moments.



What?



I cross the street towards my apartment when I see another pair of them. What the hell? The badges say they're from the Center for Disease Control, but I haven't heard about any viral outbreaks. Granted, I haven't exactly paid attention to the news the past couple days but I think something that warranted CDC coming into a major city would've caused some emergency alerts. I walk past them, hearing nothing but muffled radio chatter coming from inside their suits. I happen to look up and notice something I hadn't before, on top of one of the buildings.



That's odd. What's odder is that it reminds me of something... not quite sure what... a poem, I think?





I'm betting that's the mystic sun. It looks kind of like a sun and it's obviously supernatural, hopefully that's close enough.



The inside is remarkably unassuming, but there's... a presence in the building. Like Ocean House, but... there it felt like a dead thing, but here it's most definitely alive. I almost think I can see the walls moving.



I ignore the stairs and head deeper into the first floor. No rooms or decorations, just a red-walled hallway leading in either direction.



I take a right.



Then a left.



Then straight, past a few more rounding hallways.



Before I finally wind up in front of a small sitting room and two massive wooden doors.



A bald man decked in red is waiting for me at the far end of a quietly luxurious fire-side room. His accent is almost stereotypically Transylvanian.



"Greetings, neonate. Might I assume you received my invitation? I have been looking forward to meeting you for quite some time."

"I'm... quite flattered, Mr..."

"Strauss. Maxamillian Strauss. I am regent of this chantry. Welcome."

"Chantry?"



"A chantry is a local gathering place for those of the Tremere clan. I live here, as do apprentices from time to time."

"Tremere? Tung said you were... mages of some kind?"

"That is correct, neonate. I am confidant Mr. Bertram used a few choice, vulgar adjectives to describe us? Our power and history does not sit well with many members of the Camarilla."

"You're part of it though, right?"



"Of course. The Camarilla is merely a Kindred sect that exists to protect its members from the outside world. There are specific codes of behavior that we abide by in order to insure the continuance of our species. It is nothing more and nothing less."

I think for a moment, before I recognize his face. Or rather, his suit.

"You're one of the primogen! I saw you in the meeting with LaCroix. You... didn't sound like you thought very highly of him."



"LaCroix is a prince, neonate, and a Ventrue on top of that. Even if he weren't as young and indiscriminate as he's already proven himself to be, I..." He pauses for a moment, reconsidering his words. "...but I say too much. Let us just say that he and I have differing ideas on the use of power."

"You might as well tell me, it's not like I've got anything to gain by running to LaCroix and telling him not everyone agrees with his decisions."

"Hmm. Well, without saying too much..." He adjusts his glasses and his voice dips lower, becoming gravely serious. "I think Sebastian LaCroix lacks the usual discretion necessary to be a prince. I see in him a lust for power that overshadows his responsibility to the Camarilla."

"And you think you could do better, right?"

He laughs, covering his mouth for a few moments before it subsides.



"No, young one. I aspire not to such lowly heights. My only interests are those of my clan and the Camarilla."

"In that order."

He chuckles again.

"You will do well in this new life. That I can see already."

I think I'm starting to believe that sort of thing.

"I haven't had much of a chance to set up much in the way of contacts or informants yet, could you tell me a little about what's been going on in LA recently? Maybe about some guys in Bio-Hazard suits?"



"Let me give you some advice, young one. Your survival in Kindred society will often depend on your ability to find out for yourself what is going on around you. Remember that well." He changes his tone again, this time to something more upbeat. "As for what is going on downtown, the word on everyone's lips, Kindred or kine, seems to be 'epidemic.'"

"So that is why CDC moved in."

"Yes, neonate. It seems that disease has been spreading at an alarming rate throughout the downtown population. Considering our particular..."



"...appetites, the local Kindred are more than concerned about these developments."

"The plague's blood born?"

"Yes, indeed. My opinion is that the local anarchs are responsible for these outbreaks. Their precipitous indulgences of certain... passions often leads to such things. Ergo, their need for the watchful eye of the Camarilla."

"Not much of a free radical, Strauss?"

"Hmph. The anarchs feel that they don't need the structure and discipline of the Camarilla, despite their many failed attempts at becoming self-sustaining. I feel they pose a threat, both to those loyal to the Camarilla and to themselves. Most are mere children and need our guidance. LaCroix threw you out into the cold with barely a hint at what you were or how to survive. Do you truly wish that misfortune on all new Kindred, as the anarchs do?"

"Nines did more to help me than anyone in the Camarilla."



"Ah, yes. The infamous Mr. Rodriguez, a notable exception to the typical anarch inexperience and selfishness. I understand you owe him your life twice now. Had he not intervened, the prince would have surely had that hound of his separate your head from your shoulders."

I glance away, trying to look at anything besides another person.

"...yeah..." I manage to get out. Shit. Why the fuck couldn't he have just snuck out the back? Strauss senses my hesitation and decides that whatever's bothering me is a subject not wise to brood on.

"In any case, it's a shame that Rodriguez cannot see the wisdom of the Camarilla. He would make a powerful ally. As it is, he is a significant thorn in LaCroix's side, which will serve my purposes all the same."

"Which is getting LaCroix out of power?"



"Perhaps. Rodriguez and the anarchs represent a significant threat to both LaCroix and the Camarilla. Either LaCroix proves that he possess the capacity for leadership necessary to carry the Camarilla through such trials, or he will be destroyed. Either way, we will gain a prince worthy of the title."

Apparently LaCroix's less popular than I thought. If something happens and he's overthrown... well, it never hurts to have a back up plan.

"I've got some time to spare before my next job, how about I help you with this plague business?"



"Hmm. An interesting proposition. If you succeed in finding the cause of this epidemic and putting an end to it, I will compensate you appropriately for your efforts."

"I'll start as soon as I leave the room."

"Very well. Again, I recommend speaking with the anarchs. You can find most of them at the local watering hole, reveling in the vices of their former lives. I believe the place is called The Last Round."



The Last Round. That's great.



I can't wait to go there again.



I backtrack through the halls, looking for the exit. I pass a number of twists and turns that hadn't been there a few minutes ago. Maybe I really had seen the walls moving.



There's a reading room on my right, and I notice a rather large, leather bound book sitting alone on an end table.



Insights into the Creation, Care and Origins of Thaumaturgical Creatures.



I'm sure Strauss won't mind.



More of them just a little ways past the chantry. You'd think people might be a little turned off the night life by seeing government men in haz-mat suits standing around.



Yippie Ki Yay.

I barely have time to step through the door before I hear a woman yell.

"You!"

I'm a little gray about what happens next, but one moment I'm in the air and the next I'm smashing through a table and into the wall. I can't feel my face. People are yelling and I just start to pick myself up when I see the red headed shitheel from earlier crossing the bar towards me, bloody fist pulling back for a second blow. She steps over a scattered pile of my teeth. I lift a hand to my left temple and cringe as the spongy texture gives way beneath my fingers. I can hear pieces of my skull clinking together beneath my skin. Jesus Christ, I'm glad I don't feel anything.



"You cammy shit!"

I start to pull the Ingram from my shirt when a giant black hand grabs the girl's wrist.

"Easy, Damsel. You finish her off and the Sheriff's going to be here in half a heartbeat, we don't need that kind of shit right now."

She jerks her hand free.

"Fuck you, Skelter. She fucking fingered Nines! Said he killed a god damn primogen."

How the fuck did they know about that already?

"Araghlll!" The guttural, gurgling sound comes from somewhere in my throat and nothing I do makes it sound like any kind of word. I move my left hand further down and feel around my face.

Oh my god I don't have a jaw.


She ripped my fucking jaw off.

I try to say something again but the nerve endings must have repaired themselves enough to tell me someone's shoving steak knives into my face. I stagger back as the regrowing bones begin to seal together.

"I said he didn't kill one." I don't know how I manage a coherent sentence.

Skelter steps forward, putting himself between me and Damsel.



"You've got a lot of nerve coming here, you measly fuck. Everything anyone's saying is about how you saw Nines at that Malkavian fuckhole's palace."

I stretch my new jaw bone as it cracks fully into place. The pain's getting better, now it just feels like someone set my face on fire.

"I did see him. He came out and talked to me, I didn't see a vague outline in the fucking fog."

He pushes his finger up against my chest and practically head butts me.



"It's a goddamn setup by LaCroix. Nines was here with us every minute for the past week, no way he coulda been there. He was fucking framed and you're the one who fingered him."

"I didn't finger him, HE WAS FUCKING THERE!" By now the bartender's ushered everyone out, but I think they can hear me outside. Skelter eases back a little, surprised.

"You really think that, don't you?" He thinks for a moment before speaking again. "Alright, I'm willing to believe you might just be a patsy in all this, but I'll be watching you. Why'd you even come down here?"

I crack my neck, glancing at the scattered bits of teeth and blood littering the floor.

"That Tremere head, Strauss, he said there was a problem with a plague that he needed help with and it was probably your fault."

Damsel pushes Skelter out of the way like he was a balloon.



"What? That goddamn blood-witch told you what? He thinks we're responsible for the plague bearer? UGH! If I hadn't promised Nines I'd stay out of this I'd tear him a new wizard chute, magic missile casting mother FUCKER."

I almost flinch backwards before I catch myself.

"What? What's a plague bearer."

"A plague bearer's a fool that doesn't care who they feed from." She waves off the comment she must imagine is coming. "Yeah, yeah I know what you're thinking, we can't get sick, but the kine can, and kindred that feed on them start spreading disease. Enough get sick, it's an epidemic, CDC's in town as we speak."

"So how do we stop it?"



"Seen Old Yeller? It may sound cruel, but it's necessary. If someone puts together two and two as to the real cause of the outbreak of blood born diseases, guess what happens? So the plague bearer's gotta be found and put down. If the Camarilla really gives a damn, you'll help us out."

"Yeah, alright. Where do I start?"

"One of our boy's ghouls, name's Paul, lives nearby in the Skyline Apartments. Looked like death last time he was here. Said he didn't get bit, but... maybe you can get more info out of him."

"Ghoul?"



"Oh holy Christ." She'd started to calm down, of course that wouldn't have lasted long. "You're still a Cammy after they keep pulling this shit with you? Are you retarded?" In an apparently rare moment of foresight, she seems to sense the next two words out of my mouth and eases off. "Alright, alright. A ghoul's a mortal who gets fed vampire blood. They're stronger, faster than a normal human, all that junk. They're also addicted to the blood and completely subservient to their donor. Vamp says 'jump' and they don't even ask how high, they just jump as high and as fast as they can and don't stop until the vamp tells them to or they flop over dead." She stops for a moment, sizing me up. "Of course, if you're a Ventrue they'll probably keep jumping even after they're dead."

Well, that's great.

"...So, talk to this Paul?"

"Yeah. Wait hold up, if he's not talking, you might want to question the local homeless pop. They're getting hit the hardest, so bad it takes the city a couple of days to clean up the bodies. If you manage to fix this, hopefully I wont have to punch you in the face again. Oh, and don't expect to see Nines until this bullshit is cleared up."

She and Skelter leave for the upstairs section of the bar and I sit down next to Jack. I don't know how long he'd been there, but apparently he'd seen enough.

"So how much harder than her do you punch?"



"Hey, relax kid. You did what you had to do, just the messenger, right?"

"Anarch fuckers could give a god damn."

"Ah, don't worry about them. Damsel goes off on anything that walks into her line o' sight and Skelter's just like all these big barkin' pups nowadays, doesn't bite unless he gets cornered."

I feel around my face again, just to make sure it's all there.

"So what do you think's going on?"

"Pfft. It's a ruse by LaCroix so he can call a blood hunt on Nines; standard smear job, textbook Cammy bullshit."

"LaCroix's not going to gain anything from a war."

"He's not getting a war. With rumors flying around about Nines being some blood thirsty monster, he's sown enough doubt to hold the Anarchs back from taking action and if Nines is out of the picture... well, whether the others'll admit it or not, let's just say there's a reason LA is the only free state that hasn't folded."

"What? A blood hunt is like a bounty, right? If Nines is as good as they say, who's going to try to take him out, let alone manage it?"



"Don't kid yourself, bucko. There's whole packs o' youngsters out there who'd love to make a name for themselves by bringin' in the head o' Nines Rodriguez. He may be good, but he's not invincible. Sooner or later it's going to wear him down and someone's going to get a lucky shot in."

"And... you don't blame me for any of this?"

"Ah, you do what you have to to survive when you're young, anybody who blames you for that is forgetting the shit they did when they were fresh out of their graves." He leans towards me, tone turning more serious.

"Of course, there comes a time when you're old enough to know better, and that excuse don't fly so well anymore. And with the shit you fell into, kiddo, you're gonna have to grow up quicker than most."

"Yeah, I..." I look at him awhile longer, god knows why he's still trying to help me. "Uh... thanks, Jack."



She punched me in the fucking face, is she ten years old?