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.

[DFM]

It's never enough. It's never enough for this goddamn fruity masquerade bullshit. I march over to the first homeless bum I see.



"You. All the homeless people are getting sick. Tell my why."

She stares up at me, light from fire reflecting in murky, almost white eyes.



"What? Get away from me! Stay way from my aluminum cans! They're mine!"

I pull the glock from my waistband and smash the handle into her cheekbone. She falls backwards, half crying, half groaning. I stand over her and hold the gun up to her face.

"Where. Are you getting. Sick."

I can barely make out what she says over her squirming and terrified sobbing.

"T-T-Tin Can Bill! He's b-b-been jabberin' about some kind of monster.. says.. s-s-says it took him away somewhere and got him sick, that's... h-h-he's right across the alley by that bar! He's the guy you want!"

"Thank you. You have a nice day."



I slip the pistol back in my waistband and head through the alley. I really, really wish all the bullshit I go through could be solved as quickly as that.



"Are you Tin Can Bill?"



"Huh? Who's there? Old Bill can't see too good these days. I-is that you, Betty? I ain't got no booze tonight, sorry. You may as well just clear out of here." He coughs up what's got to be a lung, the same cough Hannah had back in her bed at the apartment building.

"I'm not Betty, I'm with CDC, I need you to tell me how you got sick."

"Oh... yeah, I might be able to, bt I'm awful thirsty tonight, miss. Could you spare five bucks for a man who's been down on his luck?"

I pull a wad of clipped together cash from my pocket and toss it at him.

"Here's five hundred up front. There's another five hundred as soon as you tell me how you got sick."

He stares at the money in his hands like he can't believe it's real.

"Oh... oh my god.. thank you! Thank you miss! Oh by god I always loved the government..."

"Mr. Bill, your story please."



"Alright, I know you ain't going to believe old Bill, because I been tellin' my friends and the cops and everyone since it happened and people just say that it's the hootch talkin' and nothing more, but it was a monster. A monster with his face all twisted and ugly, teeth longer'n your finger and eyes... piss yellow and full o' hate. I never seen eyes like that before... still... still can't sleep 'cause of them most nights."



"He grabbed me, threw me over his shoulder, t-t-took me to the bad place... the dark place... oh god the smell... worse than anything I've- and then he bit me, my neck... Oh god, i-it was horrible!"

He calms down somewhat, memory of the attack fading.

"...don't remember too much after that. Blacked out and woke up here in my alley. Haven't been feeling too well since then."

"And how did he find you?"

"Came up through the sewers, he did. Just... around the corner there." Another coughing fit. "Don't... go down there though... not without the army... maybe not even with the army, it's a bad... bad place, friend. You gotta promise me... you gotta promise you won't let that monster come back and take me there again..."

"You have my word, Mr. Bill, you will never see the monster again."

There's another coughing fit. I recognize this one. He collapses on the ground in a fit of wheezing, coughing and gagging. After a few moments of struggling, he lies still. I reach down and pick up the money clip.



I'll have to remember that trick, although I might need to supply a less natural means of death. I walk down the alley to where Tin Can Bill had indicated the monster emerged from.



That's real fucking swell, I haven't waded through enough shit lately.



At least I've got steady changes of clothes now.



The sewer's about what I expected, dark, nauseating, disgusting and it's all I can do to move through the sewage without retching.



If only the aqueducts of Rome were such a wonder as this. I hear heavy breathing coming from somewhere up ahead, and the splashing of footsteps getting farther into the distance.



We'll see about that.



It isn't long before I come to what's either a natural blockage or a makeshift barricade. Either way, it's easy enough scramble over.



On the other side is a vast cavern with row after row of support pillars running the entire length of it.



There's a light coming from what looks like a hallway off the left of the room.



I can't put my finger on it but it seems like I'm getting warm.



I wonder if that's the metro worker the news mentioned went missing? No, doesn't look like a maintenance uniform. Probably nobody, just a soon to be addition to the pile of bodies in the corner. I walk forward a few more steps when the air in front of me begins to displace and out of nothing walks a hulking, disfigured Nosferatu. He smiles at me, his voice harsh and rasping.



"Found your way down here, did you? Following the smell of entrails and rotting flesh? Looking for a free meal, little bloodsucker?" He stretches his arms upwards, his voice shouting. "THERE'S MEAT GALORE IN MY KINGDOM!"

I take a step back, left hand raised instinctively as some kind of laughable shield.

"Hold on, alright? First off who the fuck are you?"

He licks his lips, savoring the taste of something likely unhygienic.

"Brother Kanker, they call me... High Lord in the diseased halls of the dead. Look around you! The blood, the bloated bodies, the maggot-ridden mortal shells... These are the signs, the coming of a new age!"

"And what, god forbid, new age is that?"



"The darkest dawn is almost upon us! Come! Join the Brotherhood of the Ninth Circle in these last nights, spreading our disease upon the earth, sharing this unholy communion with our human herd!"

"Alright, doomsday cult wants to wipe out the world, fair enough. Why start with the homeless?"

"They are the weak, sick, hopeless. I bring them a new purpose. They are the vessels of darkness, carrying the diseased truth in their veins."

"Yeah, that's great and all but after all the plague bearers I've killed, by my count your the only one left."

He glares at me through the almost palpable stench.

"You did not kill Bishop Vick."

"No, but now I have a name."



I pull down on the trigger and it takes him a few moments to realize what's happening. He rushes towards me through the gunfire, claws growing out of his fingers until they become macabre bone talons. My skin reflexively hardens around me like an extra thick layer of leather. I almost don't want to see what I look like.



I run backwards, dodging and diving and he catches up, always keeping the Ingram trained on him, always keeping it firing.



He lands a few hits on the supporting columns, leaving deep gouges in their cement. He lands a few hits on me that barely feel.



There's a puff of ash as he vaporizes. A few days ago Gimble almost killed me, and now High Lords of Diseased Halls can't even hurt me despite trying their damnedest. Was I just that bad? Am I just that good now? What the hell's going on?



Out of the corner of my eye, I notice something Kanker must have dropped in his first charge.



Looks like a flier with some kind of flaming skull on it. A little bit disappointed as an apocalyptic symbol, maybe I'm no better than I was, it's just that these guys are really that bad?



What was it Kanker'd said they called themselves?





The Brotherhood of the Ninth Circle.

[Mirai Gen]

Very awesome chapter. Still hooked on your storytelling.

[ReaperRain]

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.

I love you. Seriously. In a non-stalkerish way. I can find something to quote in every single entry.
LaCroix was a lot...calmer than I expected, given that he just about explodes when he hears the sarcophagus was stolen. Then again, he just seems to want the sarcophagus gone instead of having it for himself. He seems a lot more collected in this story...still in-character, especially his eloquent speech, but generally more level-headed than he showed himself to be in the game.
Not that that's a bad thing, mind you...'cause LaCroix is my favourite character. It's good that you've shown the more likable and...mm, how to put it? Almost softer side to him. But then, he is a little kinder to the Ventrue than any other clan - and since pretty much all Ventrue follow the same belief system, I suppose he gets on quite well with Helen.
Ahem, anyway...that comment was longer than usual...I'll be waiting for the next update! *throws DFM confetti*

[Mirai Gen]

That's one thing I think was entirely too out of character for LaCroix when you tell him it's stolen in-game; he flips out. Like, seriously, I know he'd be pissed, but he seems surprisingly easy to frazzle for the Prince Camarilla leader of the region. Same thing with when you tell him Grout is dead.

But yeah Helen's sarcastic outlook is pretty hilarious.

I have to say that pistol-whipping the homeless seemed like equal parts in-game dialog option, DFM getting tired of sub-quest writing, and Helen getting tired of sub-quests. I'm not sure if that's a good thing or not.

[Telephalsion]

Nicely written! I'm looking forward to the next chapter.

[Melfice]

I have to say that pistol-whipping the homeless seemed like equal parts in-game dialog option, DFM getting tired of sub-quest writing, and Helen getting tired of sub-quests. I'm not sure if that's a good thing or not.

Look at it this way: You just thought you stopped this horrible plague and saved human- and vampire-kind.
Then you get told that there's more plaguebearers around the city, and you should get off your lazy ass and kill them too.

You find your lead and it turns out she's halfway to Crazy-town. Your options are:
a) Try to deal with the insane person, knowing you might not get any answers
b) Give up and find another lead
c) Force your answer, one way or another. Incidentally, this allows you to release your pent up anger over just been told you suck and need to get a move on.

[DFM]

I trek back through the sewers and crawl out of the manhole near the dumpster that serves as Tin Can Bill's final grave.



It's been a few days since I've smelled this god-awful. At least I've got a good shower and a change of close waiting at my haven.

Apartment.

I meant to say apartment, I'm not starting this fruity language bullshit.



It looks like that abandoned warehouse runs the full length of the block. If I could cut through there I could save a lot of time walking to the apartment.



Hopefully Heather isn't there, but that's kind of like hoping the sun isn't going to rise.



It's quiet inside the warehouse, muffled, like the whole place is holding its breath until I go away.



Something's watching me. Not the thousand eyes of Ocean House or the devil's black hole of Pisha's fetish but something real, something tangible. I see a large shadow just through darkness as it scurries across the rafters.



"Just stay up there, let me through, and we can all be on our way without any blood or ectoplasm or whatever getting splattered all over the walls, alright?"

There isn't an answer, just a stifled silence and the penetrating stare of unseen eyes.



I suppose that might actually be an answer.

I open the unlocked door on the far side of the warehouse and step out onto the street.



I don't know if dying gets you some special all-expenses-paid ticket to freaksville but for having seen nothing like this my entire life, I'm bumping into unnatural monstrosities at an alarming rate.



Home sweet home. Nothing like coming back to a hot shower, clean clothes, and a pet dyke.



I still don't know what I'm going to do about her. It might be useful to have someone like her around, even just as a gopher. And I can probably throw more resources at her career and education than she could ever get on her own, so it's sort of a humanitarian gesture, too.



Her brain's pretty frazzled by the whole thing and she's spent more energy trying to get through my clothes than most gold-digging guys I've met, but apparently being a saint's too much to ask.



She looks nervous. She's fidgeting. Dear god, what's she done now?



"Helen! You're back! Um..." Her enthusiasm falters.

"Heather?"

"Well... I, um... I went out this evening and I... well, I met this guy and he kept... he kept hitting on me, I mean he wouldn't leave me alone which is weird because normally guys don't give me the time of day but-"

"Heather."

"W-Well I... I mean, I couldn't figure out what to do but then I thought... um... I got him to come back here with me because... um... I thought you might want to... you know... since you're..." She swallows and tries to straighten her hair. "...a... vampire, I mean... I thought you might want to... you know, want to..." She cringes, like she's suggesting I murder a child. "...drink his blood?"

I groan and rub my temple, trying to clear the headache I can feel coming on.



"Um... I... I locked him in the bathroom, I..." She takes a step back and hangs her head, wrapping her arms around her waist. She frowns before looking back up at me. "...Did I mess up?"



"Yes, Heather, you messed up." I push her aside and make my way up the stairs. "I'll deal with this, you just sit in the corner and think about what you've done."



I hear her say she's sorry before I disappear into the bedroom. Great. Now I've got some sleazy kidnapping victim to deal with. I'd just shoot him through the door and be done with it, but chances are he's human and the body isn't just going to go away.



I suppose the best thing would be to get him out of here while making sure he doesn't bring back any trouble.



"Hey! What the hell is this shit!? Let me out, goddamnit! When I get my hands on that crazy bitch-"

"I'm sure you'll do something scary."

He practically screams in my face. "As soon as I get out of here I'm calling the goddamn cops! Let's see what THEY think of this, huh? I'll them lock up BOTH your-"

I grab him by the throat and slam his head against the bathroom mirror, sending shards of broken glass crashing to the counter and the tiled floor below.

"I don't think you really 'get' the situation you're in."

I pull his head back and slam it into the wooden backdrop again before I let go of his throat and grab him by hair. There's blood covering his face and bits of glass are still sticking through his skin. He screams while I force him to his knees and shove his head through the open toilet seat. I shove it down as far as I can and then grab the seat with both hands, slamming it down on the back of his head until the air bubbles start becoming sporadic.

"Because if you did you'd have been begging me to let you live the moment I walked through that door." I manage to keep my voice even, despite the strain. I suppose it helps not having to breath.

I grab his shoulders and throw him against the outside of the tub and crouch just in front of him, as he coughs up blood and water.

"Instead of your laughably pathetic attempt at intimidation."

He looks up, hyperventilating, and I smash the barrel of the glock into his forehead hard enough to leave a bruise.

"Unless you're still planning on impressing me with something scary."

He closes his eyes, begging in between coughing fits. I can't tell from all the water, but I think he's crying. I pull the gun away and tilt his face up towards me.

"You're going to crawl out of here on your hands and knees, and as soon as you leave the building, you're going to run. You're going to run away and never look back. And all the while I want you to remember-" I lift his head closer until I can smell the blood in his throat and I smile, fangs almost fully extended. "-That crazy bitch wanted me to eat you."

He scrambles out of the bathroom, still crying. I wring the toilet water out of my sleeves as best I can, thankful I didn't change before I'd dealt with Heather's admirer. I take a look at the ruined bathroom before closing the door and undressing. I'm taking a shower, glass strewn floor be damned.

I'll just have to get Heather get on top of fixing that. And cleaning up the sewage smell I probably left trailing through the house.



After the shower I head back into the bedroom, pulling clothes from the dresser. I don't know how I managed two nights in Santa Monica.



Heather's waiting for me on the lower story, watching the fish tank. She looks more scared than worried, now.



"Oh! A-a-a-" She backs away from me, almost tripping over my storage trunk.

"It's alright, Heather." For some reason, it doesn't feel good having her scared of me. I put a hand on her shoulder and smile. "Just... don't go kidnapping anybody else, alright?"

She nods, almost dumbly. "What... when he left, he... what did you do to him?"

"Ancient vampire mind powers."

"Oh." She nods again. "So... do you not... I mean... I was sure you said you drink blood."

"No, I... I drink blood, just... I mean..." What the hell am I stammering for? "I don't drink just any blood."



"Oh... because it turns them into vampires?"

"No, it doesn't... work like that, I don't even know how you make more vampires, but it isn't that simple. From what I understand if you're feeding from somebody, they just get kind of happy and light-headed for awhile."

"You mean you haven't... I mean..."

"No, I..." I cross my arms and look away. So much for the aura of mystery. "I'm kind of new to all of this."

"Oh." She looks away for a moment or two before glancing back at me. "Could you drink my blood?"

"No." I don't know if it's the answer I give or the speed that I give it, but she looks dejected. What's with her? "I'm sure it's great, Heather, I just..."

"What?"

What am I suppose to say? I won't drink your blood because it'd be kind of gay.

"Because we're bonded. It'd be no different from just drinking my own blood. Not, you know, all that helpful."

"Oh. I guess that makes sense..."

"Anyway, I've decided to let you stay on. You can stay here, run errands, clean up and we'll have slumber parties and lattes in our spare time."

"Oh, thank you!" She leaps at me and locks me in a hug. After awhile I hug her back, because what the hell, right?

"When things settle down we can watch movies and braid each other's hair or whatever it is vampires and ghouls are supposed to do, but right now my ancient vampire magic left a mess of glass and water in the bathroom you should clean up."

"Okay!" She almost snaps to attention. "I'll get right on it, you won't be sorry."



Go get 'em, tiger.



I almost wish I hadn't found out about Lily, or hadn't overreacted like I did.



It'd be awfully nice to have a steady supply of these things.

I throw the bag in the microwave for a bit and sit down on the couch, fangs digging into the deliciously warm bag.



"...has reported tears of blood on at least five of the cathedral's maiden statues, something many amongst the evangelical community are declaring a 'dark omen'. Religious officials, however, say the crying statues have been a proven hoax in the past, and these witnesses are no more credible than those who've claimed to see UFOs..."



God, I can't even turn on the news anymore without ghost shit popping up.



Alright, enough of a breather. I need to find Bishop Vick and the Brotherhood of the Ninth Circle and stop them before they come with a stupider fucking name.



I leave the building and glance down at the crumpled paper in my hand. A skull with some kind of star behind it. I guess I'll have to ask around.



Not that I have any idea where to begin, and if I just start shoving the paper in people's face and asking what's up, doc? there's a good chance I'll attract the wrong kind of attention from-



Fucking hell.



Is that some kind of directional marker, or...



I guess a carefully hidden compound wouldn't be easy on recruitment.



Front door's boarded up. Must be an entrance around back.







There's a man inside waiting behind chicken wire glass, probably bullet resistant.



"Welcome, sister. Are you enlightened?"

I slam the paper up against the glass.

"I'm here to see Bishop Vick."

"Of course, sister. I'll buzz you through."

The door swings open and I step deeper inside the building. Musty, old, and filled with a stench greater than anything I can remember.



Why can't this shit ever happen in the Hilton?



There's a woman near the end of the room who's busy looking scared. Might be worth it to pump her for information.

"Hey, you."



"Hey! Di-did you get s-s-summoned? You're going up-upstairs to see the... bishop?" She stammers, constantly glancing over her shoulder at some perceived attacker.

"Bishop?" Never hurts to play clueless.

"Oh, You're n-new to the Brotherhood, huh? Just got... enlightened? I - I've been here a few... days. When the bishops wants to see you, y-you'll be summoned... a-and then you go up these um, these stairs... up to the... the t-temple."

"What's in the temple?"



"I-I don't know, I m-mean, I-I hear things, but-but I haven't been summoned. I-I had a friend... snuck up there a few days ago... s-said she saw things... bad... bad things, yeah."

I adopt the most easy going posture I can.

"What things did she see?"

"Mm, blood. She said, umm, b-blood, everywhere. She um... She s-saw a few of the s-summoned, t-tried to uh... oh, to talk to them, but they just... just s-stared at her with these, umm... these 'wooo' blank looks, yaknow. N-oh, one of them, uh, s-started reching for her, a-and she... she ran away. She tried... to leave a-a-after that. I have... haven't seen her. She m-must have... must have made it."

"I don't imagine that was very encouraging."

"Yeah yeah... I k-know. The b-bishop said, we have to shed our umm... our uh... our earthly f-f-fears on our j-journey to the Ninth C-circle, but I'm umm, scared to go upstairs. I... I just uh... I just, I just wanna go home. Y'know, I wanna go home."

"You will. Bishop Vick's brought about an ending he didn't intend."



I leave the girl and make my way up the stairway she'd indicated. I can hear noises from upstairs. Shuffling, slithering... muttering.



There's something comforting about the fact that even hell spawned horrors buckle underneath good old fashioned hollow point.



I near the top of the stairway and the sounds start getting louder. I feel... strange. I think it's... excitement. I'm looking forward to this.



Someone's facing away from me. Something, I suppose is more accurate.



It hears me at the top of the stairs and turns around, one foot dragging behind it as it shuffles towards me.

I fire a burst from the Ingram and he crumples forward without another sound.



Well that was kind of a let down.



I turn the corner and see a few more of the summoned shuffling around.





If he was trying to make an army of unstoppable soldier's, Vick's got to be pretty fucking disappointed.



I jam a new magazine into the Ingram before slipping it back under my shirt.



John Romero must be turning in his grave.



Move further through the building, wading through several dozen restless dead and leaving several dozen sleepy dead behind me.



There aren't even that many of them, I don't have to worry about being swarmed from behind or running out of ammunition or anything.



Christ, even if I did run out of ammunition I could probably clock these stumbling things to death. Most of them can't even stand up.



I walk through a few more hallways, casually offing zombies that seem more like bubonic plague victims than undead hor-



Oh fuck I've just been killing sick people.

[DFM]

I come to a set of double doors that must lead to Vick's inner sanctum. Not sure what's behind it. Vampire, probably a few indoctrinated, gun-toting followers loyal to the death.



I always wondered what it'd feel like to be the ATF.

I push open the doors, revealing a chalk white man at the end of a large room, smiling and yelling in a thick southern accent.

"Welcome, my sister!"



He tilts his head back, several plague victims shuffling around his feet.

"I see you have been enlightened! Are you searching for something? Do you seek the truth? You've come to the right place, sister." He cackles, only somewhat madly. "We've got more truth than we can handle!"

"And you wouldn't happen to be Bishop Vick, would you?"

"I am the Shepard of the Damned, your midnight guide through our last days here on earth. Do you feel it sister? The curtain being drawn back at last, drawn back by my hand, by the Brotherhood of the Ninth Circle!"

"Gehenna, right? You're one of those judgment day cults."



"Gehenna? Judgment Day? Oh again, sister, you are too indoctrinated into the antiquated beliefs of this material world. There is no rhyme or reason, no all-powerful and terrible gods who wait to rise and devour their children."

"So you're spreading this disease to make your own apocalypse because you're a fruit loop. I get it."



"You would talk of disease? What about the disease that you and I both carry, our flesh remade into nothing more than an abomination, feeding on our brothers and sisters like so many cattle? What god watched over me when that demon tore into my neck and made me into this monster you see before you?"

"Not a very good one."

"There is NO god who would tolerate such a thing. So I have become God, and the diseases I carry to the masses will bring about an end of my own making, until we have all journeyed below into the Ninth Circle."

"You're going somewhere, don't worry about that."



"The time for words has come and gone, dear sister. You and I will take those last steps together, and see what truth lies behind the curtain. Let the night fall forever on this cursed earth, and let the fruits of my labor bring a long and bloody harvest!"



Vick starts to glow a bright purple as the diseased start shambling towards me, still dimly controlled by their master's will.



The air's shattered by a shotgun blast and I can almost feel the buckshot whizzing past my face. Goddamn it. Shotguns are trouble. Vick ducks underneath a low hanging wall of rubble and I take cover behind a mostly-destroyed outcropping. We take turns popping out of cover and exchanging fire. most of his shots missing, most of mine landing but doing little.



Eventually I start to wear him down, and Vick realizes I'm not going to run out of ammo anytime soon. He ducks back under cover and after a moment I see his hand jerk up, flaming bottle launching from it. Shit. Shit. Fucker's going to burn the whole place down and kill us all. I charge out of cover as the molotov lands and Vick stands, firing a solid slug into my stomach.



I keep charging and unloading into him. Probably the stupidest thing I've done in a while, but damn it I'm not going near that fire.







I grab Vick's shotgun and walk past the dying fire. Room must be damp as hell. I walk down the stairs past the dead and even more aimless living until I reach the bottom of the building. I tell the girl who'd been waiting to be summoned that Vick was dead and it was time to leave. I escort her outside the building before dumping Vick's shotgun in a dumpster near Tin Can Bill.

Turns out bullet resistant glass isn't that resistant to four rapid blasts of buckshot.



She thanks me as I leave her to wander home. Ninth Circle dead, plague more or less ended...



...time to reap what I've sown.

[ReaperRain]

I always found the Ninth Circle side mission tedious, until I tried it with low humanity. Absolutely hilarious purely because your character agrees with eveything they're saying. Of course the plaguebearers still have the same responses, but it's funny watching the character try and convince them to let her join the brotherhood. Goes a bit like this:

Jezebel: Oh yeah, who do we have here? Are you a believer, little morsel? Have you come from the kind of enlightenment only Jezebel can give?
Character: Oh hey, you're a plaguebearer! Can I join the Ninth Circle? Do you have an application form I can fill out?
J: Oh come on now, don't deny yourself the pleasure of Jezebel's talents...we'll become slaves to the desires of our wasted flesh...
C: Sounds good to me. Lesbian STD action, GO!
J: Oh, you can escape me, little morsel. I will send you forth, full of the sweet sickness I carry...
C: Yeah, that's what I said. We getting this party started or not?
J: I cannot control my hunger any longer...! I'll drink the blood from your twice-lifeless body!
C: But...but...I wanna spread death and destruction! Wait, why are you trying to kill me? I'm on your side!

The entire game is 100X funnier with low humanity, because you don't bat an eyelid at all the horror you see. Like when you walk into Brother Kanker's lair, you pretty much look around at all the gore and say "Nice....very nice..."