Let's Play: Vampire: Bloodlines

[DFM]

What am I at now? One for four? I don't know how long LaCroix's going to tolerate this string of monumental failures, but I know I would have booted my ass to the curb a long time ago. I approach the massive building and the fetish hits me with a crescendo that ends in a silent wail that for some reason I half expect to shatter the glass on the door before I cross the threshold and the empty screaming stops.


God, I can't wait to get rid of this fucking thing.



And it's my favorite tub of lard. I bet he doesn't have to deal with any of this shit, he just sits there getting fatter. Worthless. Maybe I don't have to worry about LaCroix expecting results.



Oh for the love of god, he's sleeping. That sack of shit.



"Ah, 'scuse me, uh, startin' ta doze off there. Whew, I need to get a guard animal of some sort to alert me when folks come in. Maybe one of them chimps like on that show Ape Detective. Ha... hehe he, that monkey always-"

I slam my hands on the desk and practically head butt him.

"OPEN. THE FUCKING. DOOR."

He rolls backwards in his chair until he hits the sign behind him.

"Uh, right away, uh, ma'am. LaCroix's expecting you-"

"OPEN IT."

He doesn't say another word, just some garbled stuttering and his hand shakes when he hits the button to open the security gates.



I think I feel better now.



Game face time. At least losing an ancient box with and older corpse isn't as bad as losing Grout.



When the elevator reaches the penthouse office, LaCroix isn't in his usual seat. He's standing beside the window, gazing out at the city skyline. A king overlooking a crumbling domain.



At first I think he doesn't notice me. It isn't until I'm standing right behind him that he speaks, and even then he doesn't turn away from the window.

"Those who try to lead the people can only do so by following the mob."

"I'm sorry?"

"I am saying that as difficult as it is choose between the least terrible of consequences, it is far worse to learn that you have no choice at all."

I know where this is going. He pauses for a moment before sighing, his shoulders drooping slightly.

"Nines Rodriguez has been sentenced to death for the murder of Alisair Grout."



"The primogen have demanded his head and between potential war with the Anarchs and violent insurrection within my own ranks, I've placed my faith on Anarch levelheadedness. Hopefully not the most foolish decision I've made."

"None of them are going to let you march in and arrest Nines, he's like General Lee or Patton, he's a god to them and he's practically the only reason they've done as well as they have here."



"I know, and hopefully that can play in our favor. Instead of the more... traditional methods of execution, I have opted to call a Blood Hunt on Mr. Rodriguez."

"A blood hunt?"

"A bounty, of sorts. He is no longer under the protection of Camarilla law and a price, in either power or money, will be paid upon proof of his death. He'll become the target of assassins, bounty hunters, and no doubt every young upstart trying to make a name for themselves. It appeases the primogen, keeps out involvement at a minimum and allows Mr. Rodriguez to survive long enough for us to prove his innocence and end this mess."

"Won't you lose face calling off a blood hunt and saying he was innocent the whole time?"

"Most likely. However, I've made sure my reluctance to sentence Nines was noted by the primogen, which should ease the apparent... about face."

"What if he's killed?"

He chuckles.



"That's hardly likely. The only danger someone like Nines Rodriguez faces from a blood hunt will come after weeks, months, maybe years of constant attack, after he's too tired to keep from getting sloppy."

"And what if the Anarchs go to war?"

"Then the Anarchs go to war." He raises an eyebrow, like that alone was reaction and conclusion all in one. "I'm gambling that they will not."



"At least with the sarcophagus buried beneath two hundred thousand tons of cement and steel, life in this city should become a good deal more predictable outside of the usual political turmoil."

I glance away towards his desk, trying to hide a grimace.

"The sarcophagus was stolen."

"...Stolen?"



"Who would steal the bloody thing? It makes no sense, even if they thought there was an Antediluvian inside, why would they want it unless they're some Gehenna cult? And more than that how did they even find out where it-"



"Oh, Gary. Gary, you treasonous maggot I should have known you'd double deal."

"Gary?"



"The Nosferatu primogen. He was responsible for finding out where the sarcophagus was taken after the Dane, and for getting keys to the museum. He's the only other one who knew besides you and you've already proven yourself better than that a thousand fold. Gary. I doubt he'd care if the threat the casket presented was genuine, he'd sell us all to the Kuei-Jin if he could."

LaCroix is quiet for a moment, gears turning in his head.



"I'm making a change of stratagem. I'm assigning the Sheriff to the investigation of Grout's murder and I'm placing you on the sarcophagus."

"But everyone's scared shitless of him, how-"

"Again, this is not a matter I have much choice in. The Nosferatu, and by extension, Gary, lurk in the filth beneath the streets of Hollywood and Hollywood is the closest thing in this city the Anarchs have to a seat of power."

I nod, comprehension dawning.

"-And ordering the Sheriff or any soldiers there under the best circumstances would send heads rolling and with the bounty on Nines-"

"There could be no more official a declaration of war."



"You, however, have had fruitful encounters with them in the past and I hear you're helping them with this plague that's been running through the kine. If they allow any of my personnel to set foot on Hollywood, it would be you."

"What should I do when I get there?"

"Talk to their leader. Hollywood's Baron is a Ventrue named Isaac. Isaac's more civil than the anarchs downtown, but... nonetheless, he wears his mistrust of me on his sleeve. You'll need his approval to mount any investigation and he may have information on where, exactly, Gary is hiding. Once you have Gary, find out who he sold the Sarcophagus to."



"You will be representing the Camarilla and this is a very delicate period of time. I am sure you will remember that."



After a heartwarming send off I make my way out of the building, Chunk cowering and looking at the floor as I pass by. At least someone is.



First thing's first, seeing Pisha and unloading this haunted fucker.



Hospital's as abandoned as ever. At least letting Simon live didn't end with news vans and police choppers everywhere.



Because honestly I think she'd probably eat all of them.



Jeeze. If I was a cannibal monster I'd at least put a little effort into cleaning up my evil lair.

"Hi, Pisha. I got the... ah..." I pull the fetish from my pocket and try to tilt it away to get rid of the holes I know its eyes are burning into me. "Monster, thing."

She takes it an examines it, running her fingers over its surface and mumbling something I can't make out before setting it down.



"This is genuine and of use to me. You can feel the power resonating from it, yes? As per our bargain, I will give you an artifact of similar power in exchange." She pulls from under her table an ornamented black and gray stone cup, encrusted with rubies all along the lip. "This is known as the Odious Chalice, it swells with blood recently spilled and offers its bloat to its owner.

"So... whenever I kill someone, this thing drains their blood? And then I can just drink it?"

"It also never spills."

I don't even know it's a joke until she manages a blood-stained half smile.



I thank her as quickly as I can and turn to leave. A joke from her is just a little too much.



Alright, I should probably tell the red headed stepchild I solved the plague case, I can use all the brownie pounds with the Anarchs I can get my hands on.



I know I'm going to physically cringe as soon as I set foot in there. I think I'll be doing alright as long as I can keep from throwing my arms up and ducking.



Heavy smoke and shitty rock music. Better than Jeanette's place, anyway.



"Hey look, it's the cape in training. How's the plague coming, cammy?"

"The plague's over, I killed the plague bearer in the Empire Suite's hotel. Messily, too, which should make you happy."

"Yeah that's great and all cammy, except I dusted two more by the convention center not long ago. One of them said something about some kind of doomsday cult before I shoved his head through a light post."

"...How many are there?"

"No telling, but it's open season on all the sick sons of bitches. You've got to find the source of this bullshit plague and put it down. If you run out of leads, I'd look at the homeless pop, they're the ones who are getting hit the worst."

"Yeah, alright. I'll see what I can do."



God damn it.


God damn it God damn it Goddamnit.