Let's Play: Vampire: Bloodlines

[Riin Whitewind]

I didn't realise Helen was a fan of Kate Beaton.

[DFM]

Hot Girls in Love



Vesuvius stands a little more imposing than usual. Hopefully whatever gimmicky voodoo Velvet's using doesn't operate on a three strikes and you're enchanted forever policy. The last thing I need is to turn into Heather.



I feel the inside of my jacket for the script, last minute assurance that I didn't lose it somewhere along the way. After this, Velvet's going to tell me who Ginger Swan is, or at least where I can find her, and I won't have to come back here again.



Part of me wonders if I should bother with the game face since it's worked so well up until now. I head up the stairs and find Velvet waiting in the VIP room, sitting on sofa and staring at the hot tub in the corner. She looks up at me and smiles, patting the cushion next to her. I sit down before I realize it might not have been the thing to do.



"Hi, Helen. It's... good to see you."

"Ah... thank you, Velvet."

She looks away for a moment, running fingers through her hair.

"Please, just... would you call me VV?"

I love saying 'No'. I always have. There's something magical, something empowering about it. Especially when you know you can break whatever blood fueled witchcraft someone's using with that one magic word.

"Sure, I... I'll..."

God damn it god damn it god damn it god damn it FUCK.



"Did you... speak with Hatter?"

"Yeah, I..." I pull the manuscript from bartered jacket and hand it to Velvet. Hand it to VV. She takes it and skims over the pages. I half expect her to pull out a pair of reading glasses. She laughs softly to herself before looking up with the tracest hint of a sad smile.



"He really is a terrible writer, you know." She looks back at the manuscript, lifting it slightly in the air. "Without this... he's never going to get another shot at being the real thing. He'll be alone at that motel forever..." She shakes her head, setting the pile of papers on her lap. "...destroying this is like killing him."

I tilt my head slightly, disbelieving.

"We don't really have a choice. It's not even his, all the ideas are stolen from-"

"I know." She sighs, looking down at it. "I know. Still..."

In a clear case of demonic possession, I put my hand on her shoulder and smile.

"It'll be alright."



"...Thank you."

She takes the paper by the middle and tears. "I'm sorry, David." She turns the strips and tears them again. Before long all that's left is bland confetti, and she swallows before dumping it in the trashcan beside the sofa.



"It's a shame. He would have been so happy..."

"He's lucky he's even still alive."

"...Yes, I suppose so. Did you... find out who his source was?"

"I did."

VV looks earnest, even worried.

"Did you...?"

"He's alright. He won't be coming back to LA this lifetime."

She smiles, relieved.



"You really are trying, aren't you? I..." She pauses a moment, staring into my eyes with a strange, lost look. "Helen, if... do you ever wonder what might have happened if... we never took the paths we did in life?"

"I don't... I don't really follow."

Her eyes linger a moment before turning away.

"It's... nothing, I was just..." She stares at the far wall before turning back to me. "You wanted to find Ginger Swan?"

I don't know why the topic of business shocks me like it does.

"Yes, I..."

"She was a movie star, before our time. I only know her from Isaac's stories. She died... almost sixty years ago, I think. She's buried in the Pine Ridge Cometary just up the road. I... don't know exactly where."

I blink, not quite believing.

"Ah... alright. I'm... looking for her headstone, then? There's supposed to be a video with her."

VV shakes her head.

"I don't know about that. There's a caretaker who might be able to help you, his name was... John, I believe. He's one of Isaac's men."

"Thank you... VV."



"Helen, before... before you go, I have something for you. It isn't much, but..." She reaches behind the sofa and pulls out a package, wrapped in paper and tied with a fancy bow. "...I wanted you to have it."

I take the package and stare at her, mouth half open. I'm getting a present. I'm getting a Christmas present from an undead horror.



"If... you ever need anything, please... just let me know. Even if it's above my head, Isaac'll help if I ask him to. Whatever LaCroix has you doing..." She leans forward, kissing me softly on the cheek. Her lips are warm. "...be careful, Helen."





I don't really remember leaving the room, but I can still feel moisture on my cheek. I stare down at the package in my hands and after a moment tear open the paper.

There's a phone sitting on top of a second larger, softer package. Black, with pink trim. Stylish, VV. I flip open the cover to find a wallpaper of the girl herself lying seductively across a red sofa. I'd change it, but god knows how deeply its buried in the menus and I've got much more important things to worry about than an awful wallpaper on my free phone. I slip it into my pocket and open the second package.



Snuff's Enough





I change in the employee's bathroom, ditching the old clothes in a dumpster just out the back. I leave through the main entrance, VV's present fitting amazingly well. There's even built in holsters for my guns and the jacket's thick enough that it might even help against the numerous physical assaults I'm sure to endure in the near future.











Would be a shame to see it ruined, though.



Up the road, look for the sign. Should be easy enough.



It isn't long before I'm right in front of the gate. It's locked, but it doesn't take much force to pry it open. Probably years behind maintenance schedule.



There's groaning coming from somewhere in the cemetery, low unearthly groans. Actually... a lot of them, from the sounds of it.



Yeah, an almost derelict cemetery probably isn't the safest place to hide from the terrors of the night. I walk quickly down the path, making sure to keep an eye on suspiciously fresh mounds of dirt.



I see a house sheltered against the ridge of the cemetery path. Decrepit and forgotten, just like the grounds. Fortunately, as sorry as it looks its still got a light coming from inside. I take a shortcut down the slope, listening to another series of moans coming from deeper in the cemetery.



This must be John's place. Hopefully he can help me find Swan's grave site and isn't busy being eaten.



I crack open the door and begin to step inside when an explosion shatters the air and the stone wall beside by head erupts into a shower of powdered debris. I jump backwards and whip out the forty four in the flash of an eye, training it towards a man in black. Before I pull the trigger he raises his hands, shotgun still gripped in one of them.

"Woah, sorry about that, sugarpuss." He says, lowering the shotgun and setting it on a weathered sofa. "Reflex, that's all. Only thing that comes here without knocking are the damned zombies."



"Come on, you can put that thing away. Just a misunderstanding is all."

I let the gun linger in the air a moment before sliding it back into jacket.

"I hope you're John."

"Yeah, name's Romero. I'm the caretaker here. Well, sort of. I'm not really here to keep people out, you know."

"Other way around?"

"Got that right. Every night for the past couple months, the dead've been getting up with an itch to stroll down Hollywood Boulevard. Nobody knows why, but they're working on it. Meantime, Isaac needed a volunteer to patch up the problem, and I stepped forward. Problem temporarily solved, the baron's happy, I get to shoot zombies and guarantee I get my blood for another month. Nice little niche here."

"Why are they getting up and wandering around after all this time?"



"Who knows? Vampire necro-hoodoo, toxic waste, solar radiation - the important part is: they keep getting up, I get to put 'em back down. Everyone's a winner."

"All you're doing here is killing zombies?"

"Sure. Shoot them, blow them away, frag them, whatever the situation calls for. Sometimes I throw in chopping and dicing just to mix it up."

"I'm also hoping you know where Ginger Swan is."



"The actress? Hmm... I don't remember taking a chainsaw to her, so she's probably still where she belongs. Hmm. Not that I'd recognize her after decomposing for sixty years."

"There's a million graves here, which one's supposed to be hers?"

"It's near the..." He pauses. "Say, wait a minute. I think you're supposed to do some errand or something for me before I tell you what you need to know."

"You're shitting me."



"'Fraid not. It isn't much, but I need somebody to watch this place while I run into town to handle some business. I ain't supposed to leave or it might end up in a zombie holocaust or something. Like this one time, these goths snuck in while I was off cavorting with the locals. Got back and... wooh, wasn't pretty."

"What do you even need to go into town for?"

"Sometimes a man needs release even putting a forty four slug through a zombies brain doesn't provide."

"You want me to get eaten by zombies while you run into town and fuck a hooker."

"Well, if you put it like that... hmm..." John looks at me like he's noticing me for the first time. "Could you... maybe step into the light a little more."

I cross my arms and roll my eyes, but I take a step forward.



"Alright I know you're technically dead and all but goddamn you are one striking looking pieces of ass. I haven't seen a vampire who looks as hot as you since Velour came into down. Holy shit you even put that psycho in Santa Monica to shame." He moves his head, trying to soak up every angle he can. "Where were you when you were still breathing?"

"A penthouse in New York and way out of your league."

"How about now that you're not?"

I blink.

"...What?"

"Well, if you don't want, you could save me the trip into town. Lot quicker for you and there's no way I'm going to find anyone near your caliber of stunner in town. Way I see it, everybody wins."

"I'm dead."



"There's a big difference between technically dead and dead dead. You're walkin', you're talkin' and you belong on a movie screen so other than being a little cold I don't see the difference."

I furrow my brow and press a hand up to his cheek. Warm, of course. After weeks of nothing but girls hitting on me, I'm almost surprised this is even happening.

Hmm.


It'd be a lot quicker than staking out the graveyard while he's gone. Easier, too. And after that mess with VV...

"Sorry."



"Yeah, I should have figured. Not a lot of you guys that still... you know."

"I know. You run to town and get your rocks off, I'll watch the farm."

"Alright, I'll leave the shotgun here for you. Keep an eye out for trouble."


He leaves and I spend a good fifteen minutes just pacing the cabin, eying the filth and the hideously stained furniture. Good thing I can't get tired or I might be tempted to sit. After awhile I tuck the shotgun under my arm and walk out the side door, leaning against the outside wall and waiting for Romero to get back from town. I suppose I could have slept with him, but... this place is filthy. He's probably filthy. He's not very good looking, either. He's not the right class. He's not the right social sphere.







He's not VV.

"Oh FUCK you."

Going to have to stop talking to myself. I shift my wight against the wall and think about going for a walk, but I think the last thing I need is more time alone with my thoughts. Maybe I should count headstones. There's a the sound of footsteps clomping down the stone trail and I turn to see Romero coming towards me looking very satisfied.

"Thanks for guarding the home fort, Sugar Puss." He reaches out and I hand him the shotgun. "Ginger Swan?"

"Yeah, she's down in the mosuliem near the back. East wing, in a box near the bottom. The name's hard to read, but it's there if you smack away the dust."

"Thanks, John. Good luck with the zombies."



Trip alone through a haunted mass grave, just what I need. I cross the graveyard, listening to the continuing moans.



That must be the building. why is it that everything in this city looks so god damn gloomy?



At least there aren't any gargoyles perched on the roof. According to that book at Strauss's, they'd come to life and rip me to pieces for trespassing against a master long dead.



Cold. Cold and dark.



Howling. Groaning. Shuffling. A symphony of bumps echo through the stone halls of the crypt.



If there's anything I'm capable of taking down, it's zombies.



I follow the path through the east wing, keeping an eye out for the Graves R Us marker that should belong to Ginger Swan.



I pass through the swinging gate and holder the revolver, crouching down next to the only cover that looks like it's been recently moved. With a little bit of effort I jerk it open, revealing a VHS tape stuffed into the ribcage of a skeleton in a rotted dress. I pry the tape out and slam the drawer shut. Dust to dust.



Alright, let's get out of this nut house.

[DFM]

I exit the cemetery and head towards Isaac's jewelry shop. He's waiting for me at his desk.



"Certainly took your time, although I'm glad to see you're enjoying Hollywood. I assume the tape wasn't much trouble?"

"No trouble at all."

He takes the VHS and studies it for a moment before leaning down and popping it into a video player near his desk. "Let's see if this is thing is worth all the fuss." He turns to a flatscreen TV hanging against the wall. "You might want to watch this, it concerns you, too."



The screen sit blankly for a few moments, and I can hear the tape whirring in the machine. Almost instantly a picture blasts onto the screen, a woman tearing up a flight of stairs, strange noises coming behind her.



The noises burst around the corner, hot on her trail. They bound over each other and off the walls like meatballs falling up hill. The noises they make are guttural and savage.



The view switches to another stationary camera, and the woman charges through an open doorway.



Another camera switch. She runs down the hallway, the pack of monsters snapping and snarling tightly on her heels.



She closes the door of what must be a bedroom, leaning against it while the monsters try to pound through the other side. She glances somewhere past the camera and screams.



When she hits the ground there's another on top of her, tearing her skin off while she kicks and screams. The two of them begin to rip into her, eating the girl alive until her only movements are the jerks from their snapping jaws. The camera begins to fade, and a log appears over the carnage.



Isaac shuts off the tape and turns back to me, pondering for a moment.



"Hmm. More disturbing than I was lead to believe. You understand my concerns with this video now, don't you?"

"Certainly. I don't see why it concerns me, however."

"Around the same time this snuff film started circulating, the Nosferatu disappeared. I tried to elicit their help in tracking down the source, and for the first time in all these years, I was dismayed by their absence."

"And you think this film has something to do with the entire Nosferatu clan turning up missing?"



"Given the time frames? I assume it does; it's awfully coincidental otherwise. And those creatures... not many professional FX houses could pull those off and certainly none that'd be peddling low grade smut."

"They're not some kind of documented supernatural creature, then?"

"Certainly not. And, unfortunately, most of this tape's been damaged. If we can find out what's on the first half, we might be able to figure out where this thing was filmed."

"So we'll need another copy."



"And I think I know where you can get it. Behind the spit-shine gloss of the Hollywood dream factory, there's another city churning out a vile by-product for the furtive consumption of a debauched audience. There's a depraved little man by the name of Flynn, runs a smut shop called the Sin Bin, how he avoided a pun with his name I'll never know. He'll know where you can find a copy."



The Sin Bin.


Great.




No problems there.



Let's watch the criminal return right to the scene of the crime.



Huh.


I don't see any cops.



Maybe they're all already gone.



"Hey ya, hot pants."

I glance around the deserted store.

"What was with all the cops here earlier?"

"Awful thing. Somebody decided to off one of my dancers, were pretty messy about it too. Least it happened to Chastity and not one of the good ones."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean it's tragic and all but that girl barely earned table scraps. She wasn't exactly open to experimenting and there ain't many customers happy with a little fully clothed dancing."

"That's why everyone's gone?"

"Yeah, cops cleared out awhile ago, got pushed out the door by a couple of suits, don't know what that was about. Name's Flynn, by the way. I'm the proprietor, not just some cashier."

"And this place is mainly dancers?"



"Hot pants, this place is everything. Anything you want, you can get at the Sin Bin. Just tell me what makes your bits tingle, honey. I'll set you right up."

I need to be careful, no idea how well fishing for snuff, especially snuff like that, is going to go over.

"What kinds of things?"

He gives a salesman's half smile and begins railing off items like an auctioneer.

"Everything you'll ever need. Soft-core, hard-core, gay, straight, farm or furry. We got shockers, shiverers, self-lubricators and strap-ons. Chains, crops and canes are in the back next to the triple-ripples and that's not even half the inventory. Like I said, we got it all."

Alright, not working. Maybe paint the bullseye a little smaller.

"Any from Death Mask Productions?"

His tone changes instantly from the helpful salesman to the backyard conspiracy theorist.



"I heard of 'em. Why're are you asking?"

"I need a video they made awhile ago. A specific one."

"Really. You a cop?"

"If I was we'd be having this talk in a cement room with the cameras off."



"Alright, listen. I'll tell you a little bit, but if anyone comes askin' you never heard it from me. They produce only the most hard-core videos. I'm not even talkin' black market here, more like black-hole market. Every cop in five states and every bureau DC has been trying to track these guys down. Not the kind of product you want to get mixed up in."

"What kind of stuff do they have in their videos?"



"The kind of stuff that gets you put in jail for just talkin' about it, alright? Snuff films is just the tip of the iceberg. I only seen one of their videos, a-and I swear I couldn't eat for a week. They're bad news, pal. You want some advice from me, stop thinkin' whatever you're thinkin' and get your ass back to Kansas."

"That's not really an option. I've got half a tape they made and I need to see the rest."

He looks surprised.

"A tape? You mean THE tape? You've got a copy of it? Have you seen it?"

"The second half, yeah. Haven't seen monsters like that before."

Flynn shakes his head.





"Look, kid, get the hell out of here, alright? I don't want any part of that scene. I hear people seein' that tape ain't been comin' home for dinner. I don't deal in that kind of stuff anyway, so just take it somewhere else."

I lean forward, resting my hands on his desk.

"Flynn, I've killed more people than you know and most of them would give the boogie man a run for his money. When I find these high school dropouts I'm going to come down on them, Flynn, and I'm going to do it hard. The last you'll see of Death Mask Productions is when their bodies turn up in the news."

He shakes his head slowly.



"O-okay. If you're serious about getting rid of them... look, all I know is that a guy calls on the pay phone down the street every once in a while. He'll say something like, 'The moon is a terrible mistress' or some creepy shit like that. And then all you have to say is, 'who walks the night with demons of dread.' Then... I think... you get told where to meet a guy to pick up the product. I don't know for sure. I, uh... never tried it." He looks down at his desk like he's admitting failure. "Thought of it scared the shit out of me."

"Thanks Flynn."

I turn around and almost cross out the door before he calls again.

"Please, I'm telling you, lady... whatever you're in, get out of it now."



"Sorry Flynn. Once I'm in, I'm in."





God, I should be ashamed.








---------------------------------------------

Originally Posted by Riin Whitewind

I didn't realise Helen was a fan of Kate Beaton.

Everyone is a fan of Kate Beaton.

Up next: Dagger Cake

[Mirai Gen]

I'm very okay with the lack of zombies.

[Jagos]

I'm very okay with her turning down the hinted necrophilia.

[synkr0nized]

Originally Posted by Mirai Gen

I'm very okay with the lack of zombies.

I was expecting to see some, but it's no loss without them.

Oh man, "VV." She's good.

[Mr.Bookworm]

Do zombies actually show up and you just decided to skip them?

Also, is it actually an option to get your necrophilia on with that guy?

[Kepor]

Originally Posted by Jagos

I'm very okay with her turning down the hinted necrophilia.

Technically it isn't necrophilia.
...
Actually, technically it is necrophilia. Huh. Interesting.

[DFM]

Originally Posted by Mr.Bookworm

Do zombies actually show up and you just decided to skip them?

They show up if you agree to watch the graveyard which technically I didn't. If you don't want to fight zombies you can offer to run into town and pick up a hooker for him.

Originally Posted by Mr.Bookworm

Also, is it actually an option to get your necrophilia on with that guy?

Or you can do this and not have to do anything and also get laid.


Edit: VV is practically my favorite character how many of you guessed.

[Mr.Bookworm]

Originally Posted by DFM

Edit: VV is practically my favorite character how many of you guessed.

The verbal dry humping was a hint.