Gabriel sighs, as he looks over the assembled members. It seemed there was no changing what fate had in store. Vampires were individual by nature, the capability to work together all but annihilated through method of natural selection. Immortality bred selfishness, and the oldest, most powerful became a defining factor. Those who worked together would still exist, to some extent. Collaborations of ancient beings, or small groups of newbloods, but they all fell apart after a while. This was the one last weapon humanity held against vampires, the sole reason such an inferior species ruled the planet. Amusingly enough, it was those very flaws that had granted them the power to prosper.

But if vampirekind were to unite under a council of Oldbloods, all that would change.

As the elders lead, the lesser would follow in their footsteps. Fledgelings would surge through the land, multiplying at astonishing rates, and the numbers would turn against humanity. Those newer vampires would wield the technology their elders could not grasp, and the elders would walk the field of war as weapons of mass destruction, beings that could not be stopped by conventional weaponry. There would be no central enemy, no one target to destroy, no single nuclear strike would end this war.

Gabriel stood, shrugging, as he accepted fate as it stood. Perhaps it was time for the world to burn after all. But he wouldn't have a part in it, fighting just wasn't his way.

"My wager remains on a single month. But if you truly wish to prove me wrong, I will simply be witness to your failure. Walk carefully, for the words spoken in this council may well determine the fate of both species."

The Oldblood then walked away in 3 directions, Mithias alone realizing that none of them were real, and the true Gabriel had left some 30 seconds prior.