Fuzzybootz
Hari
Iracebeth
Jumbus
Los Angeles | Downtown
Nicolaus allowed his mind to wander during the car ride since leaving Wexler's deli, confident that he'd made the right choice in allowing the continuation of Sabbat dealings through his business in hopes that a trail of breadcrumbs would be left in their wake. Enough to bring the full power of the Camarilla hammer down onto their operations and wipe them from their own turf once and for all. It was an extreme view, yes, but not an unpleasant one, because as far as the Archon was concerned, the Sabbat were a disease that needed to be vanquished.
The car came to a smooth stop at the corner of South Broadway and 5th Street, a rather upscale area that -like many sprawling cities- was only a few short blocks from the low income neighborhoods and skid row, much of which seemed virtually non-existent to those who frequented the shopping strip malls and eateries along the main drag on a daily basis. In fact, living in a bubble was the only way many of the “haves" could survive being so close to the “have nots”. Nicolaus gazed at many of them as they passed along the sidewalk, his automobile idling two cars back at the stoplight in the far right lane closest to the curb. The vampire found himself in later years, more often than not, as a spectator of the human condition, of the cycle of life that kept its humanity from collapsing entirely. From birth to old age, a concept that had been lost to the immortals of the world, yet still regarded as something precious. And yet the short amount of time that is given to mortals is squandered each waking hour on such fruitless endeavors, that is it no wonder they'd all vie for life everlasting? But what is longevity of life good for if you've determined to spend it on waste? Nico pulled himself back a bit more, realizing that even his own thoughts over the centuries would begin to overtake the present, his dreams of a different life apart from the darkness just that. A dream.
He felt a presence. He felt her gaze.
From the corner of the Ventrue’s eye, he caught a glimpse of the pink spikey-haired teenage girl leaning against the large metallic traffic light control box, wearing a pair of black leather roller skates, the laces running halfway up the boot and the remaining folded down. Not exactly an unusual site in and around Los Angeles after nightfall, as you would see all kinds of young individuals loitering, walking, riding bikes, skateboarding, and the like. But it wasn't that. Nor was it the girl’s tight-fitted, ashgray jeans with the holes in the knees, black tank with a symbol indicative of 80s punk bands, or the macabre tattoos that ran up both of her thin, pale arms. It was something else entirely. The skater flashed a wry grin at the vampire, a silver hoop nose ring glistening from the halogen street lamps, before doing a mock pirouette and promptly skating the few yards up to the passenger side window of the Maserati. Nicolaus tracked her movements for a moment and then turned his attention to the traffic lights, which were still red, allowing the cross-street traffic to continue unobstructed much longer than usual. Raising a dark quizzical eyebrow, he returned his gaze to the girl, who was lighting a cigarette before replacing the zippo and leaning over enough to show a bit of cleavage from the v-neck cut, parting her dark lips in a half smile of semi-perfectly formed teeth while exhaling thick tobacco smoke.
“Nice ride." She mouthed, articulating each syllable slowly through the closed window, before pressing her lips against the thick bulletproof glass and pulling away, leaving a violet-colored lipstick imprint.
Nicolaus watched as the girl pulled a small gray box from her back pocket, and tapped on the glass, before gesturing with her hand to roll the window down. It took only a moment to recognize the five by three inch electronic device she’d so carelessly begun waving side to side like a pendulum on a grandfather clock.
A detonator. Lovely.
At that moment, horns from multiple cars began honking, including a few obscenities from drivers sticking their heads out the window. Nicolaus turned to see that the light was green, and had no choice but to turn on his flashers and wave the others by.
“Whatever you are planning miss, I suggest you walk away.” The Elder’s tone was calm but stern; his expression void of any emotion as the supernatural took place of the words, and the presence of dominance extended toward the young girl. “Now.”
There was a momentary pause from the other, and even the smug look on her face began to fizzle out as she appeared to be contemplating something of importance. Her lips parted as though she were about to speak, but nothing came out, until…
“I-I'm...sorry…” She mumbled, bowing her head in humility.
“It's fine. Just-"
“No, you don't understand!” She interrupted, raising her head to look back at him. “I'm sorry...I didn't do this sooner, ya dumbass!” She exclaimed, followed by a high-pitched maniacal laugh that could only come from a psychologically unstable mind. “Your little ‘Jedi mind tricks’ aren't worth shit, old man. But just for that, I'm going to press this little red button and make things go BOOM real fast.” A single finger slipped over the trigger ever so gently and then stopped. “Might even take out a few dozen meat bags in the process-"
“What is it you want?” Nicolaus interrupted, having very little patience with the games.
“Don’t interrupt me!” She yelled, breathing heavily as though she were truly upset and then instantly calmed her voice. “That's rule number one. Number two. We want all ya’ll Cam assholes to stay the fuck away from our streets.”
“Is that all?”
“Sure. Guess so.” She shrugged, then mockingly thought for a moment, screwing her lips up to one side. “Wait, number three. Um...I want.” Randomly her eyes darted all around the interior of the vehicle until it finally landed on the prize nestled within the center console cubby, in which she promptly pointed. “That! Gimmie that and I'll be on my way.”
Nicolaus looked down at the object that had suddenly become so vital to the strange girl, and a momentary feeling of subtle surprise washed over him. The dark burgundy colored wayfarer sunglasses with the mirror finish remained in the same spot they'd been left in a year ago. Untouched and forgotten to the point that they'd become virtually invisible, except perhaps to the person responsible for washing and detailing the car every couple of weeks.
“No.” He said flatly.
“Sucks for you.” The other responded in kind, taken aback by the vampire’s answer. “I guess we go ‘boom’ then.”
“Wait!” The Ventrue lifted the sunglasses and handed them over without further hesitation. The girl's face lit up as though she'd just opened her first gift on Christmas morning. “Now hand me that damn thing before you do something stupid.” He said, glancing around at the random couples walking along the sidewalk, a few with leashed dogs, and others with small children. It was as though the whole scene had slowed down enough to take in the smiles and laughter from the little ones, a few pointing and staring at the car as they strolled by but otherwise oblivious to all else. It was all rather surreal in that fraction of time, but it was also those moments the eternally damned creature felt more human.
“Shit, a Ventrue with a heart of gold.” The girl chuckled, handing over the detonator while at the same time slipping the sunglasses onto her thin face and peering into the passenger-side mirror. A perfect fit, just like the previous owner. “So uh, now that we’re friends and all, how ‘bout you and I go drive around in this very expensive car and have some fun, eh?” She turned to the other, lowering the glasses to the tip of her nose while winking an eye.
“We’re done here.” The Archon said in as much calmness as he could muster up. “And yet if I see you again, our next meeting will not go as well for you.”
The girl shot the other a look of disgust as she pushed away from the car and stood up straight. “Hasta la bye-bye, loser.” She hissed, waving a lazy hand before skating off in the opposite direction.
Nicolaus shifted the vehicle into drive and rolled back out into the car lane, watching in the rearview as the ghoul faded into the background of people and lights. If the Sabbat kindred themselves weren’t bad enough, their mortal lackeys and sympathizers could be worse due to the constant power struggles and endless search for attention just to gain the upper hand and fall into favor with the elite members. As is usually the case within the Sect, the only rank and title a Sabbat holds is what they have the power to take. And take it they will, even if it means dismantling their own organized chaos to do it. The Ventrue held the detonator in his hand, examining the casing while still maintaining enough focus on the road, hoping to find any indication of its source. But it didn’t take long to realize that the device was a fake, a decoy really that he has seen before, to detract and keep the scent off the real threat....
“Shit.”
And at that precise moment, from a block away behind him, the blast was heard and felt, the orange-yellow luminance from the explosion lit up the otherwise darkened street. A street lined with expensive boutiques, cafes, and restaurants, now rocked by a bomb that would have taken out at least a few of the small stores as well as anyone unfortunate enough to be it’s radius, reducing them to rubble and ash. It’s heat felt even further than that. Screams were heard, car horns blared, and chaos ensued even around where the Ventrue had come to an abrupt stop, the pain of guilt shooting through his mind, wondering if he would have been able to prevent the inevitable. Gang activity in Los Angeles had been on the rise for some time, the Anarch Movement pushing its way past all the obstacles it was capable of, turning the already lower class areas into war zones, and yet why could he scarcely believe that the same thing would happen in any other part of the city? But the damage was done, and whatever the end result could have been didn’t matter a lick as it was now in the hands of the mortal authorities to clean up yet another mess initiated from an age-old war. And if that horrible incident hadn’t been bad enough, the bitch skated right by Nicolaus’ line of sight, most definitely on purpose, knowing that the Ventrue wouldn’t back down so easily this time. Clearly the instigation was a ploy to lure him into whatever sick trap that was setup, but he accepted these types of situations, not as suicide, but as an obligation to gain the truth no matter what the cost.
With traffic up ahead at a standstill due to citizen’s scrambling from the explosion, Nicolaus meticulously weaved his way past a few cars and quickly pulled onto a narrow side-street where he parallel parked before turning the ignition off and exiting the vehicle. Acute senses picked up the girl’s body spray scent trail still lingering in the cool night air, giving the vampire a starting point as he headed further down the dark back alley, which inevitably took him further away from the main drag. As the ambient light of the city street gave way to darkness, he allowed the environment to work in his favor, sticking to the shadows cast from the buildings while still maintaining clear direction ahead. He reached under his coat, feeling for both the glock in its holster as well as the switchblade slid into the inside breast pocket. The Archon couldn’t remember the last time he’d actually had to pull either one of his weapons, but it didn’t mean he wouldn’t if the opportunity presented itself.
Approaching the back corner of one of the buildings, the familiar sound of the roller skates against the asphalt pavement was heard off in the distance, and the girl with the pink spikey hair was right where he needed her to be. In one swift stroke, Nicolaus ran across her path with supernatural speed and agility, yanking the human from her course, and slamming her against the adjacent brick wall well out of sight of prying eyes.
“Who sent you?” The Ventrue demanded, pinning the other with a single hand wrapped around her frail neck, the sunglasses she’d taken earlier slipped down to the tip of her nose.
“W-who do you think, genius?” The girl whispered, still recovering from the initial blow to the back of her head against the wall. “You’re an ass, by the way.” Her knee came up quickly hoping to find its target, but the vampire easily caught her futile attempt, pushing it back down and away.
“They don’t care about you, nor will they ever.” Nicolaus growled, squeezing a little more against her throat, causing her to gasp for air as her own hands frantically came up and held his arm. “You are a pawn in their game, girl, and no one is coming for you.”
“You’re wrong…” The words barely escaped the constriction, and Nicolaus eventually ease his grip, eliciting an immediate inhale and cough from the other. “Th-they love me!”
Nicolaus shook his head in disappointment, almost feeling the twinge of remorse for the young mortal. “Loyalty to their cause is your weakness, and your inevitable demise.”
“Love for the people of this shit city is yours!” The other spat back without missing a beat, still trying to wriggle her way out of the Ventrue’s grasp. “I know who you are, and what you are, Spook, and it doesn’t matter what you do to me, because I’ll never give up my family.”
The girl had most likely been well enough informed by her owners regarding Nicolaus and his position within the Camarilla, but whether she really knew anything more about the kindred remained to be seen as most ghouls are not always privy to the inner workings of their vampire lord’s dealings, whether supernatural or otherwise. But it was clear that the twisted doctrine of the Sabbat was instilled in her young mind and the one obvious truth was that while she assumes her Sabbat “family” will come to her aid, the sad reality of it is that she -like most ghouls bound to the sect- are expendable and therefore left to their own fate. However, regardless of the kine’s own knowledge, the Archon wasn’t about to let such an asset go to waste.
“Listen.” He continued in an even-toned voice, allowing his grip to ease up a bit more as he spoke, sliding the sunglasses off of her face and maintaining steady eye contact. “You presume to know who I am, and so you know I have every right to slit your throat and leave you to the wolves as being affiliated with the Sabbat, yeah?”
“Look, I don’t give a-”
“Ah, but you do.” He promptly interrupted. “See, I believe you care a great deal because you want to be someone of significance to your peers. I can see behind the facade that you are a strong-willed and beautiful young woman, someone who simply wants to belong, and more so, to belong to a cause she can be proud of...”
The Ventrue’s smooth yet commanding voice penetrated the girl’s ears and mind in a way she’d never truly experienced before in her short life. His words demanded her attention, and rather than tuning him out as she would do to most in her arrogance, she couldn’t help but hang on each syllable. Her once tensed muscles began to relax and the expressions on her face wavered, eventually cracking a smile, not out of sarcasm, but an odd sort of contentment as though a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. Breaking past her Sabbat blood bond, and gaining his own dominance over her had been a combination of both focus into the other’s eyes, and physical skin contact, thereby enhancing the effect to a point that would ensure subjugation.
The trait, however, that sealed the deal in this case, was Nicolaus’ abilities which had once been forged through his century-long servitude to the Sabbat and the Inquisition. Essentially, it was the right key, to the right set of locks. Unfortunately, this use of psychological manipulation toward kine also crossed several lines of morality that the vampire did his best to hold close since severing his ties from the Sabbat, principles that would help to keep the beast at bay, and humanity sustained. In some respects, Nicolaus felt by freeing her from Sabbat bondage was more of a benefit, even though she would ultimately be under the influence of yet another kindred, Camarilla or not.
In other words, robbing Peter to pay Paul.
Tears that systematically welled up in her eyes had begun to slowly stream down red cheeks, taking with it the heavy mascara that left vertical streaks like tiny fingers across her fair skin. The Ventrue spent several minutes in the initial conditioning phase, reorganizing the girls current thoughts and perceptions on what had recently transpired, giving her reason to want to correct the wrongs that she’d committed against her own kind. The art of the dominationem would take several sessions between the master and servant, multiple meetings to ensure loyalty and that her focus has not wavered even in the slightest. The Archon’s mentalistic and supernatural powers were as such, that he had the ability to plant a single thought into her mind that would ultimately become the “safeguard” if any part of the plan derailed: There was no turning back for her and death by her own hand would be her sole punishment.
“How are you feeling?” Nicolaus released his grip on her, and the girl -who was revealed as being named “Alex”- stood unmoving for a moment but still held onto the smile.
“Wonderful.” She responded in a hushed tone, lifting a hand and placing it against the vampire’s cool skin along one side of his face as her almond-shaped hazel eyes glanced back at him. “Thank you.”
“For what?” He said, gently removing her hand from his face.
“Something to live for.”
“Good. Then let us begin.”