[img]https://static01.nyt.com/images/2017/12/13/us/13belair1/13belair1-master768.jpg[/img]

[b][u]Los Angeles[/u][/b]
[b][u]Lubbock[/u][/b]

Ash and dust crumbled beneath boot as the figures made their way through the ruins of what had once been an enviable home. Overlooking the sweep of LA without being caught in the cacophony that was the Metropolis, it had been one of those places that you could only ever afford if you already lived in one.

These details were lost of those in attendance, not that one could envy much of the charred rubble that surrounded them. A few walls remained standing, enough to provide the outline of the house that had stood, but little more. Little more than ash and dust.

The first figure, taller, more regal, than the comparatively squat beings that followed him, came to a stop. The position wasn't obviously noteworthy, other than being somewhat central to the ex-property, but to the man in question, it had all the note upon this wretched Earth. Lubbock knelt in the dust, although the dirt refused to cling to him, even his clothing protected by the aura of perfection that surrounded the ancient Kindred.

"So. Christopher. This is where you died." His palm spread out upon the ash covered floor, as if attempting to grasp something that was perpetually out of reach, cruelly separated by the crushing weight of the land itself.

"Even in death you disappoint me." The words were ripped from his lips, but they tumbled out with the same smooth command of words that any phrase from Lubbock's mouth. They seemed devoid of emotion, but the fire that burned behind his eyes told a different story. Memories, past the drag of time, of kinship, and shame. "My Son." His voice almost cracked. A flinch so utterly minor as to never register from anyone else, but to come from this being, was enough to make the trio of lesser kindred following him recoil in shock.

"D...Dark Father...What is this place?" The mewling Sabbat wretch trembled, eager to be the first to serve, to wipe away whatever minor tribulation affected the being they were sworn to, and earn himself some minor favour with the powers that be.

"This place? Just another stain on this accursed continent." Lubbock stood with effortless grace, he was facing his companions before they even realised he had moved. His expression did little to calm the weak-willed thralls as they looked upon their master. "America...it is all so....provincial." His face was inches from the other kindred's now, a state of affairs that the weaker being did not enjoy, craning his neck down to avoid making eye contact with the ancient kindred, but try as he might, his eyes were pulled upwards, unable to resist the pull of Toreador's finest.

"My people had built monuments, cities, alphabets, methods of science and understanding that even now kine fail to master and improve, all while the savages of this continent had barely stumbled upon the concept of fire." Lubbock's tone was whimsical for a moment, before his voice crashed in a quiet crescendo of rage.

"And they took him from me." In his blood he could feel it, could sense the conflict that had taken place. The betrayal, the rage, the war. There were unknowns, granted. More than Kindred had fought it, beings of perhaps even greater power. But the Kindred had been of his blood, grand childe and beneath had struck down his progeny. It was Lubbock, not they, who had the right to decide the scope and purpose of his dynasty.

"Oh....Caine save us." One of the thralls whimpered, unable to maintain their silence in the force of Lubbock's emotion as his presence filled the air, the aura of the ancient kindred enough to terrify on its own. Lubbock turned his attention from the nearest to this new target, crossing the ground between them in a painfully slow stride.

"You think that of Caine? You think he notices your worship, little gnat?" He stopped an inch short, but still looking down upon the now shivering creature, who had no words in the face of Lubbock's intensity. Instead, the ancient kindred simply lifted his own head up a fraction, as if craning for a noise.

"Listen to that? Next to silence. You may hear the city, far away, but I imagine it is blissfully quiet." Lubbock exhaled, as if mournfully. "Now, behold my every moment, and then speak to me of Caine as his mercy." Lubbock rested his palm atop the thrall's head, and opened his mind to his.

For every moment of his unnatural life, Lubbock had listen to the will of Arikel, the bickering of the greater kindred that now slumbered beneath the Earth, the fever dream of unfathomably old and powerful vampires from before the age of man. His every waking moment was beset by the chattering of their ambitions, their curses, claws tugging at the skein of his sanity and existence.

Behind them all, was the blazing dark sun of Caine. The beating heart of all Kindred, burning rage and unquenchable first. The guilt of the very first murder. Lubbock allowed himself to slip into it all, a rare occurance, as he let the noise wash over the Sabbat thralls as well, allowed them a glimpse of his eternity.

When he awoke once more, they were dead. One had removed their own features, their form twitching as the final death overcame them, even a Kindred unable to survive the extent of self harm inflicted in those fleeting moments. The others were already ash, the remains of their bones tangled in the rage enduced conflict that had ended them. He was almost sorry to have missed it.

[i]Simple pleasures, simply joys, my darling[/i]

It was her, the voice made him shudder, but he recovered without response, snarling to dismiss the siren song of Arikel in his mind. Not tonight.

He had a plane to catch.

[img]http://blog.privatefly.com/us/wp-content/uploads/2015/01/Mustang-2_high-res.jpg[/img]

[b][u]Hardestadt[/u][/b]

[i]"Reports from India remain inconclusive, but what cannot be disputed is the death toll continues to rise, experts indicate that -[/i]

He cut the audio from the report with a dismissive wave. The news itself, of what was occurring upon the Indian subcontinent, could not be so readily ignored, but Hardestatd had no current care for what the Kine thought of the situation. He was still concerned with mitigating a wider discovery among Kindred, worry first about that, and then the Masquerade. Another web of lies on top of another web of lies.

Hardestatd exhaled forlornly, his eyes moving from the reports in front of him to his view of the continental US below. The lights of civilisation were few and far between, an expanse of dark stretching out before him.

"Feeling a little glum, childe?" The voice was silk, coming from the figure sat opposite him that had not appeared to be there until a moment before. Unusual for someone to join the Camarilla Elder in so informal a manner while he was working. Even more unusual for the fact they were currently flying aboard one of his fleet of private jets. 

There was a surge of movement as the two Kindred bodyguards present blinked to their feet. Both were armed with handguns, specifically modified in both build and ammunition to be more useful against the usually hardy Kindred, but after only a split second of recollection, Hardestadt knew this would be more than pointless even so.

"Lubbock, I would say welcome aboard, but I have a feeling you've been here rather longer." His tone was measured, but it concealed a very frantic mind. Almost palpable in the air, both Ancient Kindred were gathering their power for an imminent conflict.

"Hardestadt, you're looking...young." Lubbock smirked knowingly at the comment, a ribbing jest that passed over the present guards without them registering it, intent only on keeping Lubbock within their sights. In truth, he had mostly likely been there the entire flight. Perhaps not so close to Hardestadt, but a being of Lubbock's ability could had stood among the guards and simply willed them not to notice him.

"Attend to our pilot, see that he is not distracted." Hardestadt commanded them without moving his eyes from Lubbock, to do so would be to open himself up to any manner of aggression, although he doubted his opponent would resort to the physical."

"Sir I-" One began a protest, but thought better of it when Hardestadt waved them off. Both nodded, sidearms holstered, before leaving the pair of ancients within the passenger cabin.

"To what do I owe the pleasure, Matthew?" Few would have ever refereed to Lubbock by his given first name, it was a simple trick, to remind the Methuselah that Hardestatd was also from a time where beings such as they had walked in greater number. Perhaps some ancients were fragile enough to waver at such a surface slight, but not Lubbock, who barely seemed to register it.

"What are your interests in Los Angeles?" Lubbock was entirely without subtlety, but that was not a skill he required at this moment. As the Ancient spoke, Hardestadt felt the will of Lubbock crashing against him, a tide of dark power that even he struggled to hold up. While the two men appeared to simply be speaking cordially, the physical concealed a battle of titanic wills, two masters of presence attempting to engulf the other. Even before he spoke, Hardestadt knew he was losing.

"I might ask you the same."

"I am not the mastermind of an international society, I have rather more free time on my hands. What is so interesting that you feel it necessary to abandon the seat of your Empire at a time like this? You are the most interesting creature I've stumbled upon in months."

"So you have been in the New World for some time, Lubbock, I imagine recent developments may be attributed towards yourself?" It was an obvious deflection, steering the conversation away from a subject he was not willing to crumble on, just yet, even as the desire to simply grant Lubbock his every desire grew within him. Thankfully, for whatever reason, it was a distraction Lubbock was willing to take.

"Indeed, your pawns were rather easy to root out of San Francisco, perhaps you should have exported more accomplished Princes."

"The Sabbat, Lubbock? You disappoint me, you have been a fine Prince in years gone by."

"You believe I still care for your meaningless sects? Your paltry ambitions. The Camarilla was always a game, a past time to while away the years on, that some of you, and your ilk, took to heart. I am no longer intrigued by games, and I play for higher stakes. Lesser Kindred may care about such labels, but all are tools to the true elders." There was madness dancing in Lubbock's eyes, a madness that Hardestatd did not recall from their last meeting.

"You have fallen, Lubbock, where once you were among our greatest."

"You are a sniveling rat, Hardestatd, clutching to the fever dream of you sire because the true night terrifies you, but it is coming, all the same, just like any pawn you will be used as I see fit."

"You call me a rat, Lubbok, scurrying beneath your notice, as you play your long games with your ancients. Have you heard of the Dinosaurs, Lubbock? Great, powerful creatures that ruled this world for millennia before Caine even thought to murder Abel, while mammals scampered about them, beneath their notice. Where are the dinosaurs now Lubbock? And where are the mammals? You make think yourselves untouchable, but these games you ignore are building the future. The True Night shall come, like a meteor, and you will be too overt in your power to be ignored. Myself, and the rest of the scurrying rats, shall inherit the Earth." It was a desperate ploy, more intricate than the last attack on Lubbock. Hardestatd couple not hope to match Lubbock's will or power, but the spider had other means to avoid death.

"The sad thing is, when the final death claims you, I won't even be able to hang your bones in my museum." It was enough. White hot rage bled off of Lubbock, and in that rage, a crack. Hardestadt summoned enough will to act, pushing past the deafening force of Lubbock's presence to drive his will, like a finely honed blade, into the being before him. As he had suspected, the being in front of him was not Lubbock in true form, but a projection, a powerful work of magic and vampiric ability to allow the Ancient to act without fear of the final death. Distracted for a moment from its maintenance, and Hardestatd was powerful enough to put a stop to it.

With a howl of rage, the projection of Lubbock broke apart, coating Hardestatd, and the interior of the jet, in a spray of black, rotten, blood.

Hardestatd allowed a moments pause, his eyes returning to the window, before removing his phone from his right pocket, speed dialing through to his temporary office in LA.

"Victoria? Mhm, yes, please arrange an appointment with the company tailor, I'll require a new suit by the morning."