Appearance
Prelude
Character Sheet: Caitlyn Jackson
Appearance
Prelude
Name: Caitlyn Jackson
Player: Steve Pritchard
Status: N.P.C. (Player Removed)
Chronicle: Santa Cruz/Vampire
Nature: Child
Demeanor: Bon Vivant
Clan: Brujah
Generation: XVth
Haven:
Concept:
ATTRIBUTES:
Physical: Strength-2, Dexterity-3, Stamina-2
Social: Charisma-2, Manipulation-3, Appearance-4
Mental: Perception-4, Intelligence-3, Wits-3
ABILITIES:
Talents: Alertness-4, Athletics-3, Dodge-2, Empathy-4, Streetwise-2
Skills: Drive-2, Melee-1, Music-4, Repair-1, Stealth-2
Knowledge: Computer-2, Occult-1, Science-2
DISCIPLINES: Celerity-1, Presence-2
Backgrounds: Allies-1, Contacts-1, Fame-2, Resources-1
Merits & Flaws:
VIRTUES:
Conscience-3
Self-Control-4
Courage-4
Humanity-9
Willpower-9
Blood Pool-7
Appearance: Caitlyn Jackson stands about 5'4" in her tiny stockinged feet, has shoulder-length auburn hair that holds in natural loose curls. Her eyes are hazel in colour (though she perfers to think of them as green!) and she is more than just passing attractive.
She prefers "comfortable" clothes, which generally means leather jacket, jeans and t-shirt, but has a real fondness for her "cowboy" boots. These are soft leather with a celtic knot design picked ot down them in silver thread. On the back of hr jacket is the logo and name of her band, "The Lonely Children."
Prelude:
Caitlyn is lovably called "that stubborn bitch" by nearly everyone that knows her at sometime or other, and this trait is something that has always been with her. As a child Caitlyn was the older of two kids, her brother Michael younger by four years. Her parents were both career-minded business people, who left most of the upbringing of their children to the skills of various nannies and baby-sitters whenever at all possible. Her Father, Robert Jackson, was the head of the successful Jackson Pharmaceuticals while Marie Jackson was Chief buyer at a major LA department store. Memories of family occasions are few and far between for Caitlyn, restricted mostly to Christmas, Thanksgiving and notable birthday occasions. It was exactly the sort of environment where children can grow up to believe that it really doesn't matter what they do, as no one will be interested in them.
For Caitlyn this possibly destructive upbringing was more of a spur than a obstacle. She was bright enough to realize that the only way she would ever gain her parents real attention was to succeed, for they held the ideals of wealth and influence above everything else. This brought out the need to learn in an already inquisitive child even more - Caitlyn was certainly what one might have called "gifted" in her infancy.
She was encouraged in her thirst for knowledge (and the approval of her parents) by one of her more caring nannies; a youngish woman named Caren Vey. Born of Irish decent, Caren Vey emigrated to the States after she had finished her education over in Ireland, and quickly found work as a child-minder and teacher.
The Jacksons were her fourth employers, and she stayed with them from Caitlyn's second year right through to her being twelve. Caren had a marvelous imagination, and fueled Caitlyn's own thoughts with wondrous unbelievable tales from her homeland; stories of dragons, kings, castles, battles and magic. Caitlyn kept in touch with Caren after she finally left her parents employment (there was some sort of argument, and though Caren never told Caitlyn what it was all about, it seemed to be some concern Caren had over Michael, and her parents didn't want to hear it).
School was the undoing of much of Caitlyn's will to learn, for she was not a child with many social skills of her own, and being so small herself, she found that she was often bullied or - worse still - ignored by others. She feel into her own imaginary world, and her school work and academic progress suffered because of this.
It wasn't until she was eleven that she realized she had a talent for music, being forced into learning the flute at school, and noting how her teachers took a great deal of interest in her when she performed well with it. Thus it was that her academic advancement was further slowed while she turned much of her attention to the playing - and now singing too - of music. Eventually her skill with her voice exceeded her abilities for the flute, and by the time she was fourteen she had performed a solo a school recital that had won her much admiration.
Her life hit a turbulent change in her mid-teens, as do all children when they reach this age, but much of her own problems came from her home life. Her parents seemed to have hit a rocky patch in their marriage, with her father having an affair and her mother turning to drink to try and put the whole thing out of her mind. This meant that the children were either pushed out of things altogether, or sometimes dragged into a "favourites" battle between the two selfish adults. Caitlyn was old enough to handle the problems this caused her, but for Michael, it was something that he never adjusted to, and which changed his personality completely. Caitlyn tried to do all she could to protect him from the uglier scenes, but she could still see how it cut into him; her own sorrow was half that of her brothers, as her "love" for her parents had never been all that strong anyway.
Eventually the rift was healed between her mother and father and they seemed to take an interest in family life as a whole, Michael's problems at school being listened too, and a psychologist being called in to help him deal with his nightmares and bad behavior. Caitlyn withdrew from such attention, her mother putting her reticence and sullen silences as "being at that age".
As Caitlyn turned from a gawky teenager into a beautiful young woman, things really began to change. Learning fell into a category that can't even be described as "secondary" as music and the powerful chemistry of pubescent hormones took control of her life. She had no shortage of boyfriends and admirers, and at last she seemed able to mix with girls of her own age too, though she suspected a few of them became her friends simply so that they might have a chance of drawing on her own attractiveness - hell, she attracted so many boys that there were bound to be a few going spare?
Music dominated her life as she turned eighteen, and eventually she dropped out of education altogether so that she could pursue her real desires. This did not go down at all well with her parents, and after a raging battle of wills and words, Caitlyn packed up everything she owned and turned her back on them. Leaving the house in tears she realized that though she had made a big deal out of being a loner, and not needing the love of a family that just weren't willing to give it, she was terrified of being alone. What she did know was that she was going to miss Michael terribly, and at the moment, he was just beginning to get his life back on an even keel.
She lived with a friend in Monterey named Emma Mansten while she worked as a waitress during the day, and practised with various bands and artists during the night. She realized just how hard it was going to be to make a living from music, and began to wonder if her parents were not right after all. It was also at this point in her life that her emotional desires were knocked too - she fell deeply in love (or lust) with someone she met at a nightclub. The problem was twofold; firstly, Caitlyn was too embarrassed to approach the object of her desires and explain them. Secondly, the object of her desires was ... a woman! She had never before had a crush on someone of the same sex (though she remembered reading somewhere that she should have had by now?) and after plucking up enough courage to do something about it, she confided in Emma. The reaction from her was much better than she had dared hope, for Emma chose the path of not being horrified, but of understanding and wanting to help. Talks long through several nights convinced Caitlyn that this was much more than just a crush, and with Emma's help, she intended to make her "amor" known.
Emma and Caitlyn went out together to find the woman, a beautiful brunette with a honeyed voice and trim figure named Mellisa Franklin. After more vodka than was good for her, Caitlyn approached Mellisa and made her feelings known. Mellisa was both flattered and concerned by Caitlyn's love, and though she was not averse to an all-female relationship, she simply explained that there would be problems that Caitlyn was not aware of, before politely explaining that there might be a chance for the two of them at another time and place, but not here and now. Caitlyn felt that this wasn't really a brush-off, but couldn't help but feel crushed.
She went through the next month in a blur, and slept around a great deal to try and put the hurt away, and to return her to the carnal pleasures of men rather than women. Emma helped her through the heartbreak and soon life returned to as normal as it ever had been.
Caitlyn took to writing letter to people she had "lost contact with", and was surprised to receive a reply from her Caren Vey after along period of mail re-direction. Her old "surrogate parent" was living in Santa Cruz, and told Caitlyn that she would be welcome to come and see her any time. Caitlyn also wrote home, and a reply from her mother was not only a surprise, but less than cordial. It started with all the usual pleasantries, and said that if she ever needed money or help, she could still find it at home. However, the latter part of the letter told of Michael, and the fact that he had been in trouble with the police, and seemed to have acquired a drug habit too. From the tone of the words it was obvious that her mother seemed to think that much of Michael's bad behaviour was in some way down to Caitlyn's leaving.
Eventually Caitlyn found herself with a chance to get out of work for while, and headed to Santa Cruz to see Caren Vey, and after three weeks of catching up she felt that her life was working out fine. That was until she returned to Monterey.
Her most recent band "The Fallen Angels", were doing a gig at a nightclub back in town when Caitlyn was in mid song as she spotted the unmistakable form of Mellisa in the crowd. The woman waved her greeting, and when the song was over, she called Caitlyn over to the bar. The passed time just chatting, and though Caitlyn felt awkward, she realized that Mellisa was flirting with her. The drinks flowed, and though Mellisa seemed not to be affected by them, Caitlyn was definitely growing more and more drunk - by the time the evening was drawing towards dawn, Mellisa had suggested that Caitlyn come back to stay with her for the night. Too drunk to refuse, she accepted the offer.
The first night Caitlyn had ever slept with a woman turned out to be more memorable than she could ever have guessed. Mellisa had desires on more than just her body; it seemed she wanted her blood too. As Caitlyn felt the skin of her throat part before the ivory teeth, and the warming kiss of death, she realized what it was about Mellisa that had entranced her.
Mellisa disappeared very quickly after the embrace, and Caitlyn soon learned that all the difficulties that she had previously faced in her life were incredibly trivial when compared to this. Coming to terms with her new "life" was along and drawn out process, but eventually Mellisa managed it. She had never really been a very social person, and her previous independence certainly put her in good stead now. It took her a long while to confide in anyone, but eventually she put down her feelings and problems on paper and sent them to the one person who she thought might be able to help her; Caren Vey. It took a while to convince her, but eventually Caitlyn won over the support of Caren, and was told that she was there if ever she really needed someone.
Despite coming to front a successful band at last - "The Lonely Children", Caitlyn's life was knocked into one more flat spin with news of Michael's death. A terse note from her mother, along with a press clipping, told of how Michael had been shot by a store owner while he was with a gang trying to rip the place off. The police suspected that they were part of a gang that routinely stole from stores simply to feed their Crack habits. and once more, the tone of the note left Caitlyn in no doubt about who her mother blamed for it all...
Thursday, June 1st, 1995 9:14 p.m.
The beat was swinging and so was John. It beat so hard that, coupled with the cascading and swirling light effects, he was swimming in intensity, and he wasn't even dancing. Looking down from the stairs onto the floor of the Catalyst, he could see a sea of writhing twisting humanity, convulsing to the primal pull of music. Revealed in flashes of strobes as if it had been lightening, John got only glimpses of what happened below him. Nursing the one beer he'd bought, he figured he might as well go home. He was sleepy, and broke since he wouldn't get paid until tomorrow. Hardly the opportunity to buy someone a.
"Can I buy you a drink?" a woman's voice, a definitely satin voice at that, purred close to his ear behind him.
Startled nearly out of his skin, John turned to gawk behind him. It was dark and he couldn't see her at first, except for the faint luminous effect of her eyes - which was probably from some weird makeup, he decided. Then the strobe lightening flash sequence revealed her for a moment, and John's heart just about stopped.
"How about that drink?" she asked him, staring right into his eyes since she was on the step above his. In a very forward way, she was rubbing his chest.
"Do, I, uh, know you?" he asked, not able to believe this young incredibly beautiful woman was talking to him. Then cast once again into darkness, only her voice and hand seemed real.
Not answering she took his hand into hers. Hers was cold, like she had been holding onto an iced drink for a long long time. Holding it gave John thrills in many many ways.
She led him to the bar where the in the neon lights, John could see her better. There was something familiar about her as if he had seen her before. Admiring men looked over at him enviously and parted to allow them access in return for being able to undress her with their eyes. Protectively jealous for this stranger, John moved closer to her, his chest touching her back and buttocks as they pressed closer to the crowded bar.
"Do you like vodka martinis?" she asked him.
He shook his head, but realizing stupidly that she probably couldn't see him, said aloud, "No, not really. They give me a headache."
"Well, would you drink some for me if I asked you?" She turned and smiled at him. Her teeth were perfect and white. "They're one of my favorite drinks."
He nodded, swallowing because he couldn't seem to find words in his dry throat. When she turned back to the bar, he could see she had a logo painted on the back of her sheepskin leather jacket. It said, "The Lonely Children."
"Two Vodka martinis,," she told the bartender, "and use Stolichnaya." The bartender's eyes smiled as he prepared the drinks. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a twenty dollar bill, handing it over to him. "Keep the change," she said. "And keep them coming."
John smiled at her and sipped his martini. "I saw your logo," he told her, initiating their conversation, "I saw that band play here at the Catalyst last year," he lied. He had in fact, only seen the flyer but he had heard they were great.. "They were great. Where did you see them?"
She smiled at him. In fact, she seemed to be almost laughing. "Drink your martini," she suggested.
He noticed she wasn't drinking hers. "Aren't you going to have some?"
"You drink these for me," she told him. "I'll have some later."
At her suggestion, he kept on with the martinis, drinking at least five, until he was sure he was going to be sick. Vaguely he thought, - I'm going to hate working tomorrow. Maybe I'd better call in sick. I'm sure I'm going to be.
"Where do you live?" she asked.
Startled faces, mostly male, looked over. The bartender looked over at him enviously, nodding his admiring approval.
"I, uh, I" His face flushing red, John couldn't remember. She reached behind him and took out his wallet, reading his license.
Grabbing his arm, she told him, "Cmon, I'll take you home."
Leading him out, together, they left the Catalyst. It was dollar night and summer stay over students continued to line up to get in and hear the local bands play.
Patiently, she waited until he could remember where he was parked. He had always been a cheap drunk and his head was turning. Walking without balance, she supported him to his Civic, parked on Cedar Street. She seemed remarkably strong for a small woman.
Thursday, June 1st 11:39 p.m.
Caitlyn looked down at John, her hunger finally satisfied. The glow of the vodka hadn't left her, but looking down at her dinner, she had a hard time enjoying the high. She was so hungry, she hadn't been able to control herself. Having not fed in over a week, she had taken too much and the vessel she had chosen was near to death.
"Shit!" she grabbed her own hair and pulled. It was bad enough that she was hunting on forbidden ground. Not having gotten the Prince's permission, she knew what would happen to her if Purdy and his gang got a hold of her. She'd end up like that Toreador, that chylde of Jackson's, who'd gotten staked to a redwood and kissed to death by dawn sunlight.
Reaching for her coat, she licked the vessel's wounds clean. Then, grabbing his phone, she dialed 911. The emergency operator's voice came on, asking what sort of emergency it was. Caitlyn faked a gasping voice and left the phone off the hook, so they could trace it. Then, grabbing the vessel's car, she got out of there quick. With luck, he might make it if they could get him to a hospital in time.
Ditching the car on California Street, she walked down the hill, back to downtown. As the taste of the vodka faded, she decided she'd head for one of the coffee houses. She was hungry again and felt like something more stimulating.
Friday, June 2nd, 1995 1:07 a.m.
The place she picked was on Center Street. It was called the Jahva House and seemed to be some sort of converted garage. Stepping inside, she was very satisfied by the low light level. Jazz rhythms from the musicians on the low stage, intermingled with conversation chatter from the tables buzzed in her ears. Appreciative eyes looked over at her, scopeing her out. Not usually able to get into places like the Catalyst, the under 21 crowd frequented the coffee houses along with the non-drinkers. It was a great place to chat or pick up and though the music was only marginally to her taste, Caitlyn enjoyed the energy of the place.
She had already picked out several possible desserts when her eyes drifted over to an attractive young woman with bouncy blond hair wearing a black evening dress that failed to hide a pair of very shapely legs hiked up over a stool.
Caitlyn's heart sank as she realized that she wasn't the only one that night who had been out hunting at the coffee houses. Of course, having been in town for several days now, it had been inevitable that she would encounter one of the local kindred. The matter of time had happened and her sister vampire had seen her too. Caitlyn nodded a greeting, but the other Cainite only glared in return. Getting up, the blond vampire left her drink, but rather than coming over to Caitlyn, she exited the Jahva House altogether.
Caitlyn's mind raced about what to do. She didn't know what the other vamp was going to do, but telling others about the new vampire was a definite possibility - and that would draw Purdy. Caitlyn had thought about bunking with whoever her dessert was, but now, she wasn't sure she would have the time to make a decent choice. Others would now know she was in Santa Cruz and she would need a place to hide.
Friday, June 2nd, 1995 - 1:08 a.m.
Caitlyn bit her lower lip as she watched the other Vampire leave the bar. Perhaps she ought to follow her and try to see where she was going; as yet she was still hunting in the city without the Prince's permission, something that didn't really help to lengthen a period of immortality if the Prince concerned was strict in his authority. From what little Caitlyn had learned though, this Malkavian was hardly the sort to have miscreants disposed of out of hand - then again, there was always the chance that this Purdy and his cohorts might take matters into their own hands.
As all these thought skittered quicksilver through her brain, Caitlyn made the decision to follow the woman out of the bar. With the fading sounds of jazz ringing in her ears, Caitlyn stepped back out into the cool night air and looked along Centre Street. The woman was gone, nowhere to be seen. If Caitlyn had needed proof that the woman was one of the kindred, the speed with which she had melted into the night was a certain testament to her heritage.
Realising that nothing could be done to salvage anything from the meeting, Caitlyn turned and went back inside the Jahva House, hunger a more important urge than solving a problem she could do little about right now. Once more she felt the eyes of a dozen people upon her as she wended her way between the tables and made for the counter at the back of the room.
"What can I get you?" the sandy-haired girl behind the counter asked, with a tired smile.
"Suppose vodka's out of the question?" Caitlyn said, already knowing that the answer would be yes.
As the girl smiled and replied "Sorry, we don't have a liquor licence", Caitlyn shrugged and smiled back.
"Never mind. Better make that a Cappuccino then."
The girl turned to the coffee machine behind her and began to bubble steam through the tan milk. Upon the shelf on the inside of the counter Caitlyn saw a stack of text books and scribbled notes, most of them seemingly based on psychology texts. With a grin at the thought of what the girl might be working through her mind about herself, Caitlyn flipped over the notebook and looked at the cover.
"A student are we, Julie? Studying for our finals?" Caitlyn asked. The girl finished up the coffee and placed it on the counter before replying.
"Yeah. Gotta work my way through school if I want to pay the rent. It's either that or go back home and live with my parents, and that just isn't an option." she responded. she then self-consciously shuffled the books into a neat pile a turned her attention back to the band who were just finishing their set.
"I've not seen you in here before; you new in town, or just new to the club?" Julie asked as she joined in the applause.
"Both really. Jazz isn't exactly my scene, but I take my music wherever I find it. This looks the sort of place someone can come if they want to talk while they listen. However, it seems that I didn't strike a good chord with the woman who was in here as I arrived. You know, the blond one that was overdressed?" she said. She was hoping that Julie might pick up the lead and tell her more about her. She was not disappointed.
"Amber? What makes you think Amber doesn't like you ... wait... don't answer that one. She gave you a killer look when you came in, and then strutted past you like you were dirt, right?" Julie asked, and without waiting for an answer she pushed on.
"She can have something of an attitude at times, Amber. Sees herself as a bit a celebrity, and doesn't take kindly to others perhaps trying to steal her limelight. When you came through the door a half a dozen of the kids and men in here turned to stare at you, and Amber wouldn't like that sort of thing." she said.
Caitlyn feigned surprise as she said, "Looking at me? Why? Just because I'm a stranger in town? Or is it that I'm just dressed wrong?"
Julie chuckled, a silvery little laugh, as she shook her head. "No, I don't think it was what you were wearing - more like what they might like to see you not wearing! Half of these kids are only here because either they don't have fake ID, or their fakes aren't good enough to get them into places like the Catalyst. If you can't lay your hands on booze, then sex is certainly the most important thing on your mind! Hell, you come in here and draw the attentions away from Amber and you sure to get on her bad side pretty quickly."
Caitlyn grinned again as she toyed with the froth of the cappuccino. Julie went on.
"Amber's used to having the folk in here pour their adoration on, and she don't like sharing the stage. Then again, when she's on the stage, even someone with your looks wouldn't tear their gazes away. Amber really knocks them dead when she sings - don't think we've ever had a better voice in this place ever."
It was Caitlyn's turn to laugh. "Good job I didn't climb up on the stage and start my own chorus then, isn't it. Hell, if I took away her audience as well as her admirers then i really give her cause to hate me, don't you think?"
Julie didn't answer but just smiled, almost indulgently. It was apparent that she had no doubt Amber would come out tops on that stake - then again, she hadn't heard Caitlyn sing yet!
"What time does this place close up?" Caitlyn asked, wondering if she might have found herself a choice dessert here.
Julie shrugged again (the girl had a habit of that) and replied, "Normal about half two or so. It can take a while to get people to leave on a Friday night. If I'm lucky I get to go home for about three o'clock."
That decide the matter for Caitlyn - she was hungry right now and didn't really want to wait for another hour and a half. Nodding in sympathy with Julie she turned around on her stool and looked at the people about her. More than one or two of the younger men were still casting glances in her direction; finding another option wouldn't be too difficult.
Friday, June 2nd, 1995 - 2:20 a.m.
Carl had been the one bold enough to return her advances at the jahva House, and couldn't believe his luck when she asked him to walk her home. Caitlyn had even tried hard to ignore his none to innocent pawing as she lead him along the back alleys and over towards "where her apartment was".
She allowed him to turn her around and kiss her lips, letting herself be pushed against the wall of the alley, standing amongst the litter and filth as he kissed her neck and ran his hands up to her breast. She felt him become more aroused as he pressed against her stomach and groin, and then felt his grip tighten further as her bite breached flesh and sucked greedily at the blood beneath. Warm, delicious succour eased down her throat as she felt the vessel slowly loosen his grip as he gave way to her control. Caitlyn stopped herself from drinking too deeply this time - one scare in a night was enough.
As she took her fill, Caitlyn ran her tongue over the wound, gently kissed at Carl's forehead, and then lowered him into the litter. It was a cool night so he wouldn't freeze, but she still covered him with the paper and broken cartons that lay there. Sure that he wouldn't draw any attention, Caitlyn turned away and walked towards the end of the alley.
She was feet away from the street when a massive figure stepped into the light, it's silhouette showing it as an enormous man, probably as strong as an ox. Wondering if this was some fool that might be thinking she might be an easy mugging victim, Caitlyn smiled and stepped closer, then froze where she stood. He was one of her kind.
The rumbling engine of a motorbike tore the night behind her, and she spun around to see a couple slowly rolling up the alley on a low-slung chopper. More vampires! From above came a chattering laugh, and Caitlyn instinctively looked up to see a wiry, balding little fellow in a biker jacket sat on the fire escape to her left, where he had certainly not been only moments before. Realising that flight was out of the question, Caitlyn tried to put on her best expression of someone expecting to be caught out in just such a manner. She failed.
The bike chugged to a stop and Caitlyn watched as first the raven haired moll climbed off the back, and then the bearded rider stepped off the seat too. At least now Caitlyn didn't have to wonder whether or not she ought to find Purdy and let him and his gang know she was in town.
Friday, June 2nd, 1995 - 2:22 a.m.
"Dig it, but ain't the bitch seemin cool," the one on the fire escape chittered like a chipmunk. Caitlyn assumed that was Lopez.
She was about to offer some sort of greeting when she was pushed forward from behind. The impact of the blow tossed her into the air. She was sure her back ribs were broken. The tall black haired woman vampire graciously caught her - by the throat.
There was a crunching sound as the woman squeezed and Caitlyn could taste her own vitae while her own eyes closed against the pain. To heighten the effect, the woman dug her fingers into Caitlyn's stomach, shredding unused organs. Caitlyn panicked when she felt the woman's hand push up and wrap around her own dead heart.
Caitlyn forced herself to open her eyes against her pain and at least face her tormentors. She could hear the dripping sounds of her vitae bleeding onto the filthy alleyway ground. She was fast falling into torpor.
She tried to strike out but her strength was feeble by comparison.
"Clan?" the vampire named Rebecca asked, not even registering Caitlyn's punch.
"Brujah," Caitlyn weakly coughed. The answer seemed to surprise them.
"Where you from, Anarch," a booming voice behind her buffeted her ears. "San Jose? Salinas? Hollister?"
"Monterey," she whispered, "and I'm no Anarch."
Her mind drifted off. One of the last things she saw was the bearded vampire behind Rebecca casually lighting a cigarette. He took a drag and watched her, seemingly a bit bored. Her body started to lock into rictus and blackness took over.
Friday, June 2nd 4:49 a.m.
The first thing she could sense was a terrible yet enticing burning. The sensation seemed to be coming from her throat and it seemed on fire, the fire collecting down inside her and then emanating from there all around her. It burned particularly around her ribs and abdomen. Even her heart felt licks of fire around it.
"That's enough," she heard a man's voice say. Without even questioning, she took her mouth away from his wrist and looked up.
Purdy cupped her chin in his hand and turned her head, looking her over.
"You'll be alright," he said. (restore full blood, no damage to Caitlyn)
A great pain slammed into the side of her head. (now hurt, -1)
"What's this?! Be kind to rejects week?!" Rebecca's voice accosted Caitlyn's ringing hears. Feeling the side of her bloody head, Caitlyn looked up from where she lay. More of Caitlyn's, or rather Purdy's borrowed blood stained Rebecca's boot.
There was a cackling laughter from somewhere. Probably Lopez.
"I am telling you now, Purdy, we all think she's totally unsuitable."
"That's for the Prince and me to decide," Purdy calmly replied. "Besides, after seeing that example of what you call progeny, I don't think you are in any place to question my choices here."
The laughter got louder then. There were at least two other vampires there, Caitlyn realized.
"I said I'll take care of him!" Rebecca whined defensively. "If you'd only let me do it!"
"Again, that's for Happy to decide," Purdy's gravely voice remained so calm that it seemed to make Rebecca's seem even more hysterical.
"Quit holding that wimp against me," Rebecca growled. "For blood's sake! He was only a joke. How'd I know he'd get through the night?"
"Are you done?" Purdy asked.
Rebecca raised her chin defiantly. "I think you're growing soft Purdy. Any true Brujah would've taken this place already. His Highass is a joke, and you're a joke for following him. Any day now and Crown's going to axe that loon and you're next."
There was a hushed silence.
Caitlyn looked up at Purdy, but he wasn't there. It was as if he had just disappeared. She gasped when she saw him behind Rebecca. Rebecca hadn't seen him move either, but she sensed where he was. She tried to turn around but Purdy moved so quick Caitlyn didn't even see the blow land. She just saw Rebecca sail across the room and hit the wall, bricks cracking at her impact.
Snarling, Rebecca launched herself - at nothing.
Purdy caught Rebecca's chest on the tip of his knife, impaling her by the heart. She quivered and lay still. Though immobile, her eyes still darted about. Purdy walked over to a wooden post and using the knife, stuck her to it. Rebecca just stood hanging there, her feet dangling. Snarling himself, Purdy twisted the knife while it was still in Rebecca's chest and laughed as she squirmed in agony.
"Oh, my dear darling Beckers, you really gotta watch that big mouth of yours."
Purdy yanked the knife free and Rebecca fell to the floor. Holding her chest, she cried tears of blood as the pain surged through her. Her wound slowly healed but the pain seemed to stay with her for some time.
Whimpering, Rebecca crawled to Purdy, embracing his feet. He stroked her hair and turning her face up to his, bit his tongue and allowed a few small drops of blood to fall into her open mouth. She cried like a little girl as she swallowed them.
"I was the same way when I was your age," he told her. "Don't worry, sweetcakes, I won't destroy you - Yet!" he finished with a growl.
He turned to the large black vampire who stood regarding the whole scene next to Lopez.
"Chewy, you'd better get to the Carousel. I told Mock you'd be there to tuck Happy in."
Chokuweta nodded and walked out of the garage, his boots clomping hard on the concrete floor. Outside a Harley roared to life and it could heard for some time as it sped down the street.
"You two wait outside," Purdy told Lopez and Rebecca. Reluctantly, the other two Brujah waited outside while Purdy knelt down beside Caitlyn.
Rebecca turned at the door, her black hair flying. Caitlyn saw a familiar look in her eyes. She was jealous! That had been the bile in her bite. Caitlyn, for once, wished she was butt ugly. Rebecca was not the sort she would have chosen for an enemy. She looked at Purdy. He was the power here.
Purdy spoke softly to Caitlyn, "Look, as long as I say so, you're going to be alright here. You got to understand that we Brujah are soldiers here. We're the front line and when a rumble comes, we're the ones to do the dirty, understand?"
Caitlyn nodded.
"You don't seem like a fighter," he said, lighting up another cigarette.
Caitlyn shook her head. She'd wanted to lie, but it didn't seem wise. And something in the Brujah's voice compelled her not to. She realized he was far older than he looked.
Taking a drag, he blew some smoke rings, absently watching them drift away. "Look. The only Brujah here are the Dead Devils. If you can't soldier, you can't be here - as a Brujah. Lie, and tell the others you're a Toreador, or a Caitiff or something. Just don't lie to the Prince. He's crazy, but he sees through shit."
"I understand," she nodded.
"O.K. Monterey young bloods get a break for a while," he told her. "That's what Happy wants. You'll get to meet him tonight at midnight, at the Carousel."
"I'll be there," Caitlyn promised. "Purdy, thanks."
The gang leader nodded, scratching his beard. "Hey, it's nothing. Besides, I saw you sing down at the Cannery Rock Festival. I'm a fan."
Caitlyn smiled.
Purdy nodded. "You can stay here today. Later, you find your own digs. This place isn't safe on the long term."
Purdy exited the abandoned garage without even looking back. Caitlyn drew some moulding papers over herself and went to sleep as the Harleys charged off into the near morning.
Friday, June 2nd 10:31 p.m.
Caitlyn climbed out from beneath the damp, foul-smelling debris and ran her hands through her tangled hair. Purdy had told her that she could stay here for the night and though he had warned it wasn't safe, he didn't bother to tell her it was possibly the most damp place she had ever seen above ground! Cleaning herself up as best she could, Caitlyn looked around the garage with the help of the street light filtering in through the small window high in the wall behind her. The place was filthy and even had it been safe enough to stay there, Caitlyn wouldn't have considered doing so for very long.
Once outside and away from the musty smell of decay, Caitlyn's mind began to work itself loose once more. There was a great deal to do before the night was out, and meeting up with the prince was only one of her problems. She made for the nearby bar that was pumping out loud music as she started to think about how she would handle them all.
Once she was sat at a bar, a vodka in her hand, things began to work themselves out. Purdy was a valuable friend to have, and if he wasn't exactly over-friendly just yet, then Caitlyn had to make sure that she gained his protection. His strength and influence was undeniable, and if Caitlyn was to stay safe in Santa Cruz, she would certainly need someone in her corner.
However, in getting close to Purdy, Caitlyn was certain to worsen one of her other problems - Rebecca. That bitch just didn't like her, and would doubtless like her a whole lot less if she could win Purdy over to her side. Standing toe-to-toe with her sounded like a distinctly bad idea, unless she could get the backing of someone else to help her. Purdy probably wouldn't intervene again, and Caitlyn was not to keen to have to rely on his blood to put her back together again the idea of being bonded to someone had never thrilled her too greatly! No, if she was going to get one up on Rebecca, she felt that it might be through guile. If only Purdy had pushed her a little farther about her progeny; obviously Rebecca's get had been created without Happy's permission, and Rebecca was more than a little embarrassed by it all - any weakness she had must be learned and utilised. Perhaps the progeny would also be meeting Happy tonight, and if so, then there was a chance to learn more.
"Hi baby," came a voice from behind her, "can I buy you a drink?"
Without even turning to see who it was, Caitlyn frowned. She could really do without this at the moment!
"Unless you can afford to keep buying, you had best not start at all - I have some serious drinking to do here!" she replied.
"Fine by me baby. I'm here on my own and I've got nothing better to do, and besides, anyone who drinks vodka shots shouldn't be drinking them alone." With this the man sat beside her and called to the bartender. Caitlyn looked him over and could see he was not a local. Over dressed in this place he wore an expensive silk shirt and doeskin jacket his hair styled into tight curls. He was handsome enough but the overpowering scent of aftershave - expensive too - had already begun to sicken her. he turned back to look at her and gave her a smile that showed extensive dental polishing.
"Name's Brad Ellinson. I'm new to 'Cruz and was hoping I might be able to find someone to show me around the place. You looked like you might need some company and I was thinking we might get together."
Caitlyn almost winced. This guy was straight out of some eighties single bar! Still, if he was new to the town, then perhaps he might have a little promise in at least one department; food. Caitlyn took the drink he offered, nodded her thanks and then downed the glass in one, enjoying the warming sensation on her cold lips. "New to town you say? You just travelling through or moving down here?" she asked.
"A little of both really. I operate out of L.A. and I'm looking for a place to relax in. Just sorting out the contracts on a wonderful place just fifteen minutes away from here - a perfect summer house. Nothing like getting away from work and taking it easy. Too much time in the fast lane just burns you out." said Brad, his hand already on her knee, just above the top of her boots. "What's your line of work?"
Caitlyn decided to use him. "I do a little of everything, but I'm mainly a singer ... and dancer", she quickly added, knowing that the more of an airhead she pretended to be, the more Brad would be drawn in.
"Yeah? I'd taken you for a model or an actress perhaps? Perhaps you'd like to dance for me sometime?" he oozed.
Caitlyn bit her own tongue to stifle the laughter she felt building within her - this guy was so pathetic it was almost sad.
"Perhaps I might like that. How about tonight?"
Brad's smooth facade faltered a while as his eyes widened and the shock registered; he was obviously not used to his lines having such an affect on women. "Sure, why not. I'll take you over and show you the place I'm buying. I have the keys, but you'll have to understand that it needs a lot of work."
Caitlyn stood, picked up her jacket with one hand and took Brad's tie in the other. As she marched him out of the bar she let her hips sway suggestively - there were times when this was just too easy!
Friday 2nd June 11:20 p.m.
Caitlyn licked the blood from her own lips as she lifted herself off of Brad's prone body. As she had expected, he had made a move on her as soon as they were through the doorway of the house, and she had drunk as much as she needed before allowing him to sleep. Checking his pulse to ensure she had not gone too far, Caitlyn looked around the place. Brad was right when he said that this place would need some work; the house had to be a hundred years old, and from the outside it looked a though someone from "The Munsters" might have come to answer the door. Still, the place had a great deal of promise as a daytime hideaway, particularly the upper floors, which were more or less closed off from the rest of the house with the stairs being in such poor repair. Yes, she could use this place for a while.
Caitlyn lifted some of the notes from Brad's wallet, and then took the keys to the BMW. She had transport for the evening, she had a place to stay, and she had fed - now only the minor problems to solve!
Friday 2nd June 11:40 p.m.
She sat inside the car and watched the lights and bustle of the Boardwalk before her. She felt knots of tension tightening in her stomach as midnight approached. What was she going to say to the Prince? Purdy had warned her not to lie about her clan to him, but had also said that if she was a Brujah, she couldn't stay here. "The only Brujah here are the Dead Devils. If you can't soldier, you can't be here" he had said. If that was the case, then where would she go? Monterey was not an option any more and Santa Cruz had seemed the perfect answer.
Still unsure about how to deal with it all, Caitlyn got out of the car and made towards the noise and lights. As a car on the rollercoaster rattled along the tracks to her left, Caitlyn knew how the riders must be feeling at the moment. What was she going to do?
One thing was for sure, she was going to tell Happy the truth. She was going to tell him that she was Brujah, and that she was out of Monterey. The trick was to use her perception as bets she could to gauge what Happy might want out of here. If she could judge what he wanted to hear her say, then she'd try to go along with it. If she could make herself useful, then she'd have no worries about being forced to leave, and would probably be safe from any further antagonization from the lovely Rebecca. "That's it girl," she told herself, "find out what they want, and then charm them into believing you'll give it to them!"
The Carousel came into view, and now Caitlyn was close enough to see the riders. There was more than one or two vampires aboard the ride, and they'd seen her coming...
Saturday, June 3rd, 1995 12:01 a.m.
Brandon stepped off of the carousel, still dizzy. He wasn't sure if it was more from motion finally having stopped, or the last impression of Prince Happy's enigmatic words. Looking around, he was startled to see the two Monterey Ventrue looking at him. He would have felt more warmth had he been stared at by two rattlesnakes instead. And they did seem to be looking at him as if he were some sort of rat. Two cool hands cupped his face and turned him away from the Ventrue. Looking down, he was surprised to see a familiar face, though not one he had known personally.
Caitlyn Jackson, local celebrity nightclub performer back in Monterey, pulled Brandon's face closer to hers and pressed a sliding kiss full on his lips, allowing her tongue to explore his mouth. A feeling that he had thought well dead inside of him exploded and Brandon, unable to control himself, pulled her closer to him. Had they been mortal, there would have been no doubt that they would have started to disrobe on the spot.
Caitlyn, not too quickly, pushed Brandon away, licking the taste of him slowly off her lips.
"Thank you," Brandon whispered.
"I thought you needed it. You were looking kind of lonely," she told him.
Brandon nodded. "It's such a pleasure to meet you," he said, offering his hand. Then he realized how stupidly he was behaving. Still, it seemed to amuse her.
Laughing, she ran her finger over her chest, "Stick around. Who knows what might happen." Deftly, Caitlyn leapt onto the moving carousel for her turn with the Prince. She didn't even break her stride.
Another vampire strode up to Brandon and clapped him on the shoulder. "Mon Ami, that is the most awesome thing I have ever seen. I am green with envy as is every dead body here tonight," he said with a mild twangy French accent. "It's enough to make one wish he were kine again, no?"
Brandon looked over at him. He was dressed in jeans and appeared to need a shave. This new vampire smiled and offered his hand.
"Pleasure. My name is Raphael."
Brandon took his hand and shook it. "Brandon Lawrence."
Brandon then looked back at Caitlyn, shock registering on his face.
Raphael, seeing him, asked, "Mon Ami, what is it? What is the matter?"
"That's Caitlyn Jackson!" Brandon pointed. "Do you know how many times I've seen her perform? And she's a vampire! I'll bet she's been a vampire every time I've seen her! I never knew!"
"Well, that is the idea," Raphael told him. Seeing that Caitlyn had finished, Raphael tapped him on the shoulder. "I must be going, mon ami. I have an appointment for later up the coast and I must not be late out of here. I'll see you another time, yes?"
Brandon nodded and clapped the Gangrel on the shoulder as he took Caitlyn's place on the carousel.
Brandon smiled at Caitlyn as she got off. She smiled back but instead of rejoining him, she hopped over to the only Santa Cruz Gangrel present and tried to strike up a conversation with Mish. Feeling more than a little jealous, Brandon sighed and walked over to the Nosferatu, Loparlo, both drawn and repulsed by the Nosferatu's hideous features.
Caitlyn meanwhile, having mounted the carousel, made a beeline for Prince Happy, who was seated on one of the fixed benches.
Smiling, Caitlyn walked up but having reached the Prince, just stood there like a shy little girl, not knowing what to say and waiting for the Elder to make the first statement.
"Allo ma cher," the Prince nodded. "Please, sit if you will." He patted the seat.
"Thank you, sir," Caitlyn nodded, taking the proffered seat.
"So, what `ave the others told you about me?"
Caitlyn looked around, unsure how to answer. "They say you're - different."
"Different? Are you sure zat iz the word?"
Caitlyn paused once again. "No Sir, they say you're quite mad." She cleared her throat.
"Well, I am, you know," he confessed. "And I am different. We of Malkav, we are blessed with a different sight, but like the little bee that sees in ultraviolet, we see things differently than others and ours is a different world. But there are colours that those of your kind cannot even imagine, let alone dream of. We walk always in our dreams - or our nightmares."
Prince Happy looked casually around at the assembled vampires whose presences flashed by them as the carousel turned.
"If only ze could see my dreams, how they would scream."
Caitlyn nodded, trying to appear understanding and totally in sync with the Prince's mad ramblings, as if they shared a secret no other Cainite could understand.
"You sing like a Toreador, but you are not one of those dead birds, no?" he asked.
"Brujah," she nodded.
Happy looked at her, his eyes wide with surprise. Tipping his head backwards, he roared with laughter, his long fangs distended as his neck bent backwards. As he turned to look at Caitlyn, she could see that he was totally insane. The dancing lights of his eyes mesmerized her, and frightened her for they seemed to draw her closer. She felt that one moment more and she would enter his world and be like him, falling into a void of inescapable fear and helplessness.
"Ah, ma s_ur, ma mère, un baiser et tu est libre; et moi, je danse en larmes, au déspoir. Je danse dans la foule, toujours seule. Je suis Happy."
As he said this, he kissed Caitlyn softly on the lips, one lone drop of his blood travelling down his cheek to stain her own. Then he turned away and was gone. The interview was over and she knew, she had been granted permission to stay.
After all of the interviews had been concluded, Prince Happy called everyone back onto the carousel.
"Mes Enfants," he began. "We are in dangerous times these nights and the darkness, it will suck us dry if we cry not in a voice, but in the hoarse cry of the mob."
Miryam looking around noted once again the dizzying effects of the lights as the twirling carousel zipped past them until they began to blur into a wash of burning colour. The carousel was speeding up.
"The path to Golconda, if you wish it, is found in such a cry. Listen to the gulls when you first awaken. Their savage selfishness is our own. If you run the beach, they scatter before you. Such is our own flight and the gulls of Monterey, once our sister, yes such have come to roost. We are all here together now. Look around you! Look!"
Everyone did, but all they could see was the whirling flash of lights. blinding their undead eyes. As the carousel continued to speed, many of them felt the pull of centrifical force and had to grip tighter.
Happy paused as if he had forgotten what he was going to say. Purdy was seen bending his mouth to the Prince's ear. Happy nodded and then continued.
"There are so many mouths now. You must not feed but one night in three. You must not kill your food, but leave it for others to feed from as they need. The dancer is here, but who will play the music? We must all learn to dance. Do you HEAR ME! TO DANCE!"
All the vampires looked towards one another, trying impossibly to glean as much meaning as they could out of the Prince's nonsense. His rambling seemed to more frighten the assembly than to comfort them. It was as if the vampires of Santa Cruz had conveniently forgotten how mad he truly was.
"The Sabbat, their music is the harshest. And it is so hard to dance to," the Prince told them sadly. Even Crown took note at the mention of the dreaded Sabbat. "Their voices are here, mes enfants. They are in the wind and they whisper around your crypts. They are simple voices and the tales they have to tell all have the same ending. In your daytime dreams, you must think to yourselves what tale you wish to tell, and how you wish it told."
The whirling of the carousel was so fast now, that many of the vampires feared that it would break apart. It had built at the turn of the century and as it creaked and groaned, they imagined it disintegrating and hurling them to oblivion. All eyes looked to Happy, unaffected and standing in the whirlwind like the Captain on a ship of fools. Miryam was the first to loose her grip. But before she could be hurled away, Happy himself reached out to snag her arm and pull in back inward. So great was the centrifical force, that it must have taken great strength to do so.
"So you see, mes enfants, we must ride together so that all of us can finish. In all things, we must dance, we must sing, we must weave our tales, but always - together. It is that or the ride is forever over."
The carousel slowed to a stop and dizzy vampires spilled off of it everywhere. Jonathan looked up and noted how the Prince seemed drained, as if the words he had spoken had sucked him dry. Tenderly, the Brujah Purdy brought him a glass of blood to drink. Blood from a punchbowl was passed around by some of the Prince's ghouls. Though no one wanted to drink it at first, they were reassured when the Tremere Hammel, gazing into it, nodded to show that it was untainted of bonding kindred vitae and therefore safe to drink. The vampires, more than a little dazed themselves, broke up into various social circles, trying to put the best face they could on the Prince's words.
Miryam wandered over to Caitlyn, after she had spoken to Diane. "So how did your's go?" Miryam didn't seem to happy with hers, but Caitlyn knew that she had been accepted. After a bit of small talk, she asked "Do you know any Brujah from Monterrey that are here?"
Saturday, June 3rd, 1995 9:54 p.m.
Caitlyn looked around the crowd at Klub Kulture. Goths, punks, butch dykes gyrated to the music ripping out of the overly large speakers while down in the pit, half naked bodies pounded each other in slaming whirls that would have made a dervish mad. The crowd's sweat commingled slippery on the floor, it's smell rising in a cloud of patchouli. While they danced, Caitlyn stepped forward and grabbed the mike, her mouth screaming violence and anger, giving the crowd the mood they desired. In one roar they screamed back, lifting her vision higher, until like the Malkav Prince, she surrendered herself to the beat of her own vision. The heartbeat of the crowd surged as one, the smell of their blood overpowering her mind, Caitlyn gave in, feeding off of their energy and giving it back to them amplified in her own powerful voice. Her head banged and whipped, hair flying like a whip, and thrusting into the mike stand, she made love to the music. The crowd surged with her crescendos. She had found its pulse and it now moved for her. If she had wanted to, she could send them out into the night, burning with fire to take the city by storm. The knowledge of this power made her shudder in ecstasy and as the song abruptly ended, she felt herself on the edge of a high that would never quit.
But she let them go, and smiling, she wiped her mouth as if she had just fed from all of them. Throwing the mike down onto the floor, she walked down the stage left steps and pushed through her way through the pit. If anyone tried to stop her or pushed her too hard, she punched them, or scratched their faces. One large brute with hair done in a parallel row of spikes ignored the pain she gave him and carried her off to a room in the back of the club, where drugs were passed as freely as sex. Piling bean bag chairs high in what was supposed to be a semblance of privacy, he threw Caitlyn down and prepared to take his pleasure from her, slapping her face and pulling her hair until she seemed submissive. The crowd did not see Caitlyn as she began to feed, tasting the raw anger and violence in the man's blood, emotions heightened by the effect of her song. Hearing the man moan, they thought it simple lust and smirked as they saw his huge half naked body writhe over hers. Smiling herself, like a cat well sated, Caitlyn pushed him away and left the room. Behind her, the large stranger slept, only just on this side of life. Each of his ragged breaths were a testimony to the depth of Caitlyn's hunger. Like Sampson, he was shorn of strength and became more a thing of pity and ridicule as drug hungry jackals picked him over for his money and goods. Bitchy, the club manager, came over and slapped a wad of bills into Caitlyn's cold hand.
"Fuckin Great Gig," he nodded. "I want you here every Saturday night."
Caitlyn stuffed the wad into her jean shorts and smiled back, not commenting but licking her lips, almost laughing. Looking at Bitchy with eyes glazed over, her nostrils flared and she smiled cooly. She was sated and the memories of Monterey and it's burning crypts seemed more like a distant echo. She was like the lone traveller having come into a land of plenty. She was home.
Sunday, June 4th, 1995 10:35pm
Caitlyn looked out of the mullioned window of the victorian house, staring across the streets to the distant lights that followed the coastline. Her meeting with the Prince had gone sort of well ... she had been allowed to stay at least. What had he said? Something about dancing alone was it? Something about "my sister, my mother..."? Caitlyn knew a little French, but not enough to understand all that he had said. Maybe the fellow Raphael might be able to tell her more? <JON - I can interpret the lingo, but I'm assuming Caitlyn can't. We get taught French as school kids over here, but that's some time ago, and I definitely struggled to work it out. Therefore, Caitlyn doesn't speak French!>
Well, things were panning out nicely now. She had made an impression amongst the other refugees, and she felt sure that it would be worth talking to at least one or two of them again. Myriam had asked if she knew of any of the Monterey Brujah, though she was unsure as to why she wanted to know. Purdy had warned her not to admit she was Brujah, so that was the way it was going to be; Myriam would have to think her Toreador.
And Brandon? He was suckered by her charm - she knew that much - and if he was the kindred she thought he was, then she might yet have the edge on Rebecca that she wanted. If Brandon was her progeny, then he might be persuaded to tell Caitlyn a few things about his sire that she could use? That remained to be seen, and meeting with Brandon was high on her list of things to do.
A car rumbled past outside the window and Caitlyn watched it continue up the road and into the driveway of a nearby house.the driver got out and hurried inside, perhaps keen to get in front of his TV for some soap or something. With her keen eyes Caitlyn noticed that he had left the keys in the ignition - this area was not one that expected thieves to be walking the streets, obviously. So, she had her ride too.
Sunday, June 4th, 1995 11:05pm
The stationwagon chugged to a stop within sight of the lights of the Boardwalk. Who was likely to be there tonight? She really needed to talk with someone, and it might be nice to learn more of why Myriam was searching for. If she wanted the Brujah for a reason, then there is no reason Caitlyn couldn't help here out with something she just might know. After all, a favour owed is a favour to call on.
Brushing the night's dust off her boots, Caitlyn stepped inside the entrance to the Boardwalk and began her search for any of the new inhabitants of Santa Cruz...
Sunday June 4th, 1995 11:14 p.m.
It was quiet. As Monday was a workday, the Boardwalk was closing early. Only the lingering crowds of local youths, mostly dressed in punk styles, persisted in hanging out. Soon, the security guards would chase them off. Caitlyn wandered off toward the log ride and looked down upon the courtyard leading to the motorcar course and Cave Train. Caitlyn was sure that Happy would be found, as usual, near the carousel. But for the moment, at least, she decided she'd had enough of that flavor. There was something about the twirling lights and calliope music that made her head spin, even when she wasn't on the ride. It was like the air was heavy and intoxicating, stifling the mind into a giddy reel. As such, it was the perfect place for insanity to hold court.
She walked down to the courtyard, savouring the quiet.
"Closing early tonight," a passing security guard told her. "Fifteen minutes."
She nodded and smiled. Walking toward the cave train, she saw someone walk briskly out of the tunnel and turn, looking back at her. He was tall, slender and had long dark hair tied into a pony tail. Judging by his lean sallow complexion, he was obviously a vampire. The granny glasses he wore made him look like a distant cousin to the Prince and at first, she thought it might be the Prince. But he was too tall and lacked the distracted gait of madness that Happy always wove about it; that perhaps from riding too long on a twirling disc. He quickly ran up the bank of ivy, disappearing into the track of the motorcar ride. Then Caitlyn realized that the vampire she'd just seen had not been at the meeting. She knew that the Nosferatu primogen, Mock, had not been in attendance, not that anyone could tell anyway. But, if the vampire she just saw was Mock, shouldn't she have been able to see through his masque, to see his Nosferatu grotesquery underneath? Or was Mock that good, that his masques were even kindred proof?
She heard a low moan and saw the flash of pale flesh as caught by the coloured lights around her. Someone's arm was lying on the track just inside the cave.
They weren't supposed to hunt in Elysium, but Caitlyn decided that she wasn't about to stick her nose into some other lick's business. She left the Boardwalk and walked down the beach, feeling the cold water lap at her feet.
Monday June 5th, 1995 4:17 a.m.
Caitlyn was walking along West Cliff, looking out toward the ocean and now and then observing houses, trying to spot something that offered potential as a crypt. She heard the rumble of the Harley as it cruised up the road, violating the night with it's loud angry noise.
It was one of Purdy's Brujah, the one called Tony Darc. He turned his bike off.
"Hey Bitch!" he called out.
Caitlyn whirled, baring her fangs. Her Brujah blood rose up and she readied herself for a fight. Darc just smiled.
"Got somethin to tell you," he said. "The Prince has declared a Bloodhunt against the Gangrel called Raphael. One of your Monterey lot." He said it in an accusatory way.
Caitlyn was shocked. She tried to think about Raphael. She didn't really know him, but he'd seemed a pleasant and inoffensive fellow.
"Why?" she growled.
"Because Prince says so," Darc hissed. "That's reason enough for a lick like you."
Caitlyn stood her ground. "I don't kill anyone just because someone says so."
Darc leaned toward her from his bike."Well, you'd better learn then, otherwise it's your turn, fatass!"
Caitlyn just glared at him. "You gonna tell me why or do I give you instructions on how to - KISS my fat ass!"
Darc sneered. Then he smiled. "Alright! Alright. Look, the Gangrel embraced, directly violating the Prince's command about being frugal. What's worse, he capped some of our ghouls who had taken his chylde into custody. Now, the two of them have run off to the mountains and the Prince wants both their head."
"What's her name?" Caitlyn asked, meaning the chylde.
"Maria Azeglio" Darc told her. "And whoever brings Happy the heads of these two Gangrel can expect to be rewarded."
"What?" Caitlyn asked.
"Some sort of weapon. Hey but don't get your hopes up. I'm claiming that reward." Darc put his hand on his keys, ready to turn the bike over. "Hey, just a bit of advice though, unless you and rest of you Monterey bums want to get kicked out, at least make a decent effort to catch this lick and show the Prince you're loyal." With that, Darc started the bike.
"Can I give you a ride?" he offered.
Monday June 5th 1995 11:15pm
Caitlyn knew that if she refused to go with Darc then he'd have another reason to bitch about her to the rest of the Brujah, and she was beginning to grow tired of being the butt of their jokes.
Brushing the hair back from her face she said, "Depends on where you're headed. You going back to Purdy or heading straight out into the Mountains? I mean, I know a lot of our kind just love to Blood Hunt in packs, but I get better results alone."
Caitlyn was bluffing but she wanted to make damn sure that Darc didn't think so. Using as much sassy cool as she could she cocked her head and waited for a reply. Darc shook his dirty hair and chuckled - not a sound she liked very much.
"Right, sure! Well the Devils are headed out together and if you wanna go alone then that's down to you. Now, do ya wanna lift or do ya wanna walk?" he said again, kicking the stand off the bike and revving it hard. Caitlyn ignored the smoke belching out of the exhaust and into her face before hopping on behind the big Brujah and grabbing his ribs. "Let's go then!"
Monday June 5th 1995 12:45pm
"What's she doing here?" snarled Rebecca as Caitlyn walked into the workshop with Darc, "we got enough shit already thanks to the Monterey Gangrel scum. we don't need to be wet nursing another of them!"
"Love you too, my dear. Don't worry about me though - I'll hitch a lift with you into the mountains and then when I've found both the Gangrel I'll come back and tell you all about it", Caitlyn bragged again.
Chewy, standing over in the corner by Purdy, laughed out loud. "Yeah, sure. Real nasty bitch, huh?" he snickered. Purdy raised a hand and cut the jest.
"Okay let's leave it out shall we? She wants to help out and she's Brujah, so she comes along with us until she wants to go alone", he said. Caitlyn smiled as she saw Rebecca snarl in disgust, but the smile froze on her lips - Purdy was suddenly stood right before her. "I've told you before and I'll tell you again - if you can't soldier here, then you can't be Brujah here. We've got no time or room for baggage so this is a chance to prove yourself to us. Don't mess it up!"
Caitlyn swallowed hard, her dry throat a reminder that she was getting hungry too. Trying to maintain her composure, she nodded in reply. "As I said, when I've caught them I'll let you know".
She stood back and watched as the Devils tooled themselves up ready for the Hunt - fangs and claws were all well and good for a close up slugging match, but they were heading into the mountains then they obvious thought they might need a little edge. Caitlyn wondered why they were taking such precautions for just two Gangrel?
Purdy caught her look and as if he had read her mind he responded. "We're going up into the mountains, girl. The Garou don't take to kindly to that, and I've known Gangrel to get away with it - Brujah won't!" Then, lifting his gaze up and down her he added, "I suppose you're tooled up too?"
Caitlyn felt a little foolish as she shook her head; she had completely overlooked the Garou! Still, she didn't want to lose face quite so easy and merely shrugged. "Reckon I can rely on my wits", she said, but her voice gave her away. All of them laughed, even Purdy, but his grin was more admiration of her nerve than a dig at her. He reached inside his jacket and pulled out a snub-nosed .38, hefted it in his hand and then tossed it over to her. Caitlyn caught it without looking, smiling back at him just slightly. She heared Rebecca mumble something to Darc, and both of them cackled again - perhaps it was best she missed it after all?
"Right, are we ready?" asked Purdy. The roar of Harleys said everyone was, and Caitlyn climbed behind Darc again as Los Diablos Muertos prepared themselves for the blood hunt.
Saturday: June 10, 1995 12:54 a.m.
"Well, you sure know how to show a girl a good time, Purdy," Rebecca sneered.
Of course, Purdy wasn't present at the moment. The four of them, Darc, Chewy, Rebecca and Caitlyn were taking shelter behind a huge redwood tree in Lompico. They'd come looking for the renegade Gangrel. What they found was trouble - Bigtime. Now it was just a question about leaving the mountains with their unlives intact.
Rebecca was about to say something else when a bullet winged Chewy in the arm. All of them, Chewy included, reacted by burning even more blood for Celerity and going to ground even as the spray of bullets shredded the bark of the redwood tree they were using as cover.
"Merd! They're using guns! What happened to the werewolf fascination with claw and fang!" Darc protested.
"I hate this ducking and waiting CRAP!" Chewy snarled, nursing his wounded arm. It was healing more slowly. He'd obviously burned a lot of blood already and was running low. "I'm tired of this! Purdy can kiss my ass! I say he got jumped and we're just sitting here for nothing. Let's take off. Those that make it make it. Those that don't - well, hell, it's been a good unlife! What do you say?"
"How many silver bullets you got left?" Rebecca asked Caitlyn.
Caitlyn looked again, but she was sure she'd used her last already, dropping a garou that was about to jump her from a branch above. Chewy and Darc shook their heads.
"Fuck!" Rebecca swore. "I piss on you all. Didn't any of you ever hear of conserving ammunition?" She started to take off, not in the direction of the highway, where the wrecks of their Harleys lay in pieces from the ambush, but towards the woods.
"Where are you going?" Darc hissed.
"Grow a brain, Frenchy! They're pinning us down. They're blowing firepower like rain to make sure we stay focused on the front. Maybe you can guess why?"
"Flank!"
Rebecca nodded to confirm Darc's sudden illumination and then disappeared. Several gun shots followed and she reappeared, carrying a satchel, which she proceeded to dump on the ground alongside Caitlyn.
"Oh! That does it! Now, they've got grenades! Phosphor grenades even!," Darc shook his head even as he reached for some. "These furbacks aren't fighting fair!"
"No, now we've got grenades," Rebecca corrected him. "Three of them were coming around for a flank. Dusted the lead one and wounded two more pretty bad. They're going to be some cryin werewolf mamas tonight." She handed Caitlyn a grenade.
"I can't figure out where these weres are comin from," Chewy noted. "I mean, it's like the hills are full of them. It's like we walked into some werewolf muster or sumthin."
"Just our lucky night," Darc dryly replied.
"Anybody got a plan?" Rebecca asked.
"I say we throw the grenades and bust out like Chewy suggested," Caitlyn volunteered.
"And then what!" Darc hissed. "We grow wings? If Purdy doesn't come back with wheels, like he promised, then we won't make it back. We can't walk all the way down (highway) 9!"
"We force down the first kine we see and take their car," Caitlyn finished.
There was silence.
"Well, it's a plan," Rebecca shrugged. "Let's do it!"
Silently, they pulled the pins on their grenades and lobbed them around the tree. Rebecca and Darc lobbed two more just as the explosions started.
Burning whatever blood they still had left, the Brujah jumped from their cover and raced back up the hill and down the ravine on the other side. Their was a smell of burned fur and Caitlyn thought she detected agonized groans to her left but she wasn't about to pause. They were just about to break into a field bordering the highway when something slammed into her head, sending her rolling back down the hill, blood streaming from her torn skull (Mauled, -2). Caitlyn didn't have any blood left to burn so she staggered back up the hill, clutching at roots to help pull herself up. She was just in time to see the biggest werewolf she'd ever seen rip out Chewy's throat. Rebecca, blurred with Celerity, appeared behind the werewolf and was about to stab it in the spine when it must have sensed her and whirling and slashing, just about ripped her face off. With one backhand, it sent her flying towards a stone wall. Even at that distance, Caitlyn could hear the sounds of Rebecca's bones breaking. The werewolf was about to finish Chewy off but Darc tackled it. There was a flurry of flying claws and hands but it took only a moment for the werewolf to rip Darc to shreds, tossing the Brujah's head back down the ravine. It came to rest before Caitlyn, turning to ashes even as she watched it. Looking up, she saw the werewolf towering above her, it's huge clawed hand raised high for the coup de grace.
A truck without it's lights crashed through the field at full speed and crashed, pinning the werewolf against a three. Purdy leaned out the door and blasted it in the chest with three shots until it went limp.
"Cmon chylde," he said, calmly holding out his hand. "Time to go." Caitlyn, a little stunned paused, so Purdy just reached down and grabbed her hand, and pulled her up the hill.
"Get the others," he told her.
Dazed, she helped pull Chewy to his feet and then collected Rebecca, who though healing, was still too much of a mess to move. Dragging Rebecca back, she saw Purdy lift up the truck, pulling it's smashed front end off of the dead werewolf and tree, and then carry it back to the highway, Chewy riding in the bed like a dizzy drunk. Caitlyn tossed Rebecca in and then jumped in herself. The truck was a wreck, but Purdy's great strength had ripped the engine out and they were now coasting down the grade of the highway, heading back toward Felton, and then hopefully, down to Santa Cruz. Looking to the woods on either side, Caitlyn saw fleeting images racing through the trees. But as the coasting truck picked up speed, even these were left behind.
Tearing through Felton's main intersection, several late night kine had to duck out of the way. There was a whining sound and the glowing lights of a police car appeared behind him.
Purdy, calmly smoking a cigar, tossed out what looked like a flare - until it exploded. The police car skidded off of the road and crashed into a tree. Gunshots winged through the air but passed harmlessly overhead. As they rounded a curve, Caitlyn felt sure at last that they'd left all their pursuers behind.
Saturday: June 10, 1995 2:09 a.m.
Purdy had ditched the truck soon after, carjacking a newer model Mustang from two smootching teenagers, which Purdy graciously allowed Caitlyn to feed from. (Now at 11 blood). They rode back to town uneventfully. Caitlyn was the first to be let off.
She didn't know what to say. The night had been a disaster.
"I'm sorry about Darc," she said.
Purdy shrugged. "Yea, it's too bad. Lopez is gone too. The Gangrel got him."
Caitlyn was stunned. That meant that the Brujah, once the power in Santa Cruz, were down two veteran fighters.
Purdy thumbed the car, where a mangled Chewy and Rebecca were waiting to be taken back to their crypts. "I'll get these two back. I want you to look up Brandon Lawrence. He's a doctor at Dominican."
"Isn't he the one Lopez said Rebecca had sired?"
Purdy smiled. "Well, accidents happen. But now, we need every lick we can get - and even if he is an accident, he's Brujah. We need to pull together. Find him and bring him to me at the Haunted House ride at the Boardwalk."
Caitlyn nodded. Purdy didn't have anything to say. The disaster of the night weighed heavily on him and Caitlyn thought that his centuries were showing. Wearily, she though she'd hunt one last time this night, hoping to find some easy meal before she turned in.
Saturday, June 10th, 1995 3:39 a.m.
Well it wasn't going to be the best of meals, but it was easy. Caitlyn rolled the troll over, exposing the homeless man's face. The look of terror in his eyes as he saw her was about to find a voice until she squeezed his throat, just enough to cause him to black out. Looking down Laurent, she saw a car pull into Z's Liquors so she pulled the troll behind a bush in a driveway. She was just about to take her first drink when something like a concrete block hit her in the stomach. Actually, it was a foot, and the werewolf packing it into her gut must've been the darker furred twin of the one that had killed Darc.
She grabbed her gun, then realized she'd forgotten to load it. Not that the werewolf behind her was going to give her a chance to use it. While the one behind her held her up, the larger one in front distended it's claws, taking its time about vivisecting her. She was about to be shredded. Caitlyn had a momentary bit of regret at not having been a vampire long enough to realize the Potence aspect of her clan. Just as she thought this, a lead pipe smashed into the large garou's head, dropping him.
The garou holding on to her dropped her and went at it with the vampire who'd just interrupted her execution. As quickly as a werewolf himself, he transformed into a wolf with glowing red eyes. There was a brief fight and the werewolf took off, jumping a fence and disappearing into someone's backyard. The other werewolf had gotten up and the scene was repeated. This vampire seemed to have an easier time of it than she would have thought.
Transforming back to the shape of a man, the vampire bowed and introduced himself. At first, Caitlyn thought it might be the Gangrel - Mish. But she was only half correct in that her rescuer was a Gangrel.
"Raphael!" Caitlyn said, stunned to be greeted so by the object of a bloodhunt.
"At your service, my dear," Raphael said in a heavily French accented English, bowing, while still keeping his eyes upon her.
Saturday, June 10th, 1995 3:44 a.m.
Caitlyn didn't speak, observing Raphael carefully. She had her share of questions for him, but tonight, given all that had happened, she was tired and wanted nothing more than to feed and be back in her crypt.. But what to make of his intervention on her behalf? There would have to be answers found, but his was not the night.
Not caring what he thought of it, she merely straightened her clothes and turned around, heading back down Laurel. She kept her head cocked to listen for any pursuit but there was none. Apparently, having gone to the trouble to save her skin, Raphael let her leave without an issue. Caitlyn turned down Laurel and was lost to the night.
Sunday June 11th 1995 10:27pm
Caitlyn rubbed at the aches and pains she still "felt" around her body after yesterdays calamity - the blood had done it's work and healed up much of the damage, but she couldn't help but feel the phantom pains she should have had. It was the first time she had ever seen lycanthropes and if the encounter was anything to go by, she wanted it to be her last.
But for Purdy's skill, action and strength, she would have been all but dead. Though her feelings for him were growing ever stronger, her thoughts on Rebecca had become very muddled indeed. She admitted to herself that she had enforced the hatred she had originally felt for Rebecca with unsubstantiated rumours and ideas from her own mind, but yesterday things had changed. Sure enough, they were all in it together, and Chewy, Darc and Rebecca all knew they would have to rely on each other if they were to escape alive, but Rebecca seemed to have thought no less of Caitlyn's life than she did of the others. Okay, it wasn't friendship, but she wasn't just going to leave Caitlyn to die either! Perhaps she had misjudged Rebecca?
The thoughts of the battle for survival brought Caitlyn back to the last image she had of Darc, the werewolf throwing his head down the ravine, the sightless eyes rolling back into the lids as the whole decapitation fell to dust. This was the first time she had ever seen a Kindred die but at the time she had been to scared to react to the shock. Now she felt herself shudder and a single tear of blood pooled in her eyes. She had never even really known Darc, but to have your unlife ended in such a manner...
More pressing than grief now though were two matters. Firstly Caitlyn knew that she could not let Purdy down - especially now - and that she had to find Brandon Lawrence and being him into the fold quickly. The Brujah were in a very tenuous position, and Caitlyn felt that now might be the perfect time for one of the more ambitious Primogen to consider a bid for power. There was little love lost between, for example, Crown and Happy, and with the Prince having lost his martial arm now, things could really explode. As Caitlyn pulled on her leather jacket, shaking her head at the damage right across the back where the lupine's claws had raked her spine, she thought again about her later brush with death. Raphael!
She had been so stunned when he had saved her from the two werewolves that she had been unable to even talk to him, and was certainly not capable of thanking him for his interception. What must he have thought as he saw her walk away, bloodied and battered, simply failing to acknowledge his aid. But, he had been the victim of the Bloodhunt, the very thing that had forced the Brujah into the forest and seen them beaten by the Lupines. The Prince wanted him dead - the Brujah were trying to ensure it happened, and then he stepped in to save one of them from death? And what had Purdy said about Lopez? "Lopez is gone too. The Gangrel got him", he had said. If that was the case, why would Raphael save her? Whatever the case, she felt that this was something she had better keep to herself for now - Raphael obviously had his reasons for his actions, and doubtless she would find out in time. If only she could find him again?
Thursday, June 15th, 1995 1:04 a.m.
"Hi, I'm looking for a Doctor Brandon Lawrence?"
The nun working at hospital reception scanned Caitlyn over her spectacles.
"He's not working tonight. He's on disability leave and I'm not sure when he'll be back."
"Really? Did something happen to him?" Caitlyn asked. She'd been coming every night, just to be told that Doctor Lawrence wasn't working. This was the first information otherwise that she'd had in a while.
The nun stopped working on her paperwork, and then looked up at Caitlyn, obviously annoyed.
"I'm not sure. If you'd like to call back after ten tomorrow morning, you could talk to administration."
Caitlyn flexed her fingers. Right now, she envied the Ventrue and their powers of Domination. They would come in handy right now. Being a Brujah, she had other, more direct means of suggestion - means that probably wouldn't be wise in the present environment.
She smiled sweetly at the nun's sour expression, as much to say - thank your stars you are where you are right now.
Caitlyn decided she'd have to get back to Purdy to find out where Brandon's crypt was. She assumed Purdy knew, but then licks were very secretive about where they rested - and for good reason.
Hector, one of Purdy's ghouls, had dropped off a stolen Harley for her and some more silver bullets. The plates had been changed, of course, but somehow it didn't seem right to be driving something that wasn't stolen. Word had it that Purdy still did business with some of the Anarchs, and out of town expensive bikes from San Jose were still a do able item - even with those who were your enemies. After all, unlife had to go on.
As for the silver bullets, they were a more serious matter. It seems the Brujah raid up into the mountains had stirred up a hornets nest. The furbacks had returned the favour in kind - and in a big way. Furbacks had tried to pull a major hit on Elysium. According to Hector, the Brujah and their ghouls had been able to fight off the attack, but they'd lost seven ghouls while dusting three furbacks. And furbacks were running amuck around Santa Cruz. The more timid kindred were afraid to leave their crypts to feed, for fear of being attacked. Word had it that the Toreador primogen had taken a savage mauling by the werewolves and that now that the Brujah had their hands full, the Anarchs from Salinas were making rumbles in the direction of Watsonville, showing their faces openly in Purdy's own turf.
Caitlyn thought about how it must be, walking a tightrope between the mostly Brujah Anarchs of the Free States. Why Purdy adhered to the Camarilla line and supported the Mad Prince escaped Caitlyn's understanding. If Purdy ever decided to dump Happy, he could set himself up as Baron of Santa Cruz, head honcho of the local Anarchs and then, instead of enemies, all that Anarch Muscle in Salinas and San Jose could be turned to allies. Caitlyn wondered if Happy had some hold over Purdy, something that made him tow the line. If Purdy were free of such a bind, then he could do what he wanted - like icing Crown. Caitlyn decided to keep her eyes and ears open for an opportunity. Maybe when this Bloodhunt had been resolved, she could help Purdy out somehow. Certainly the other Los Muertos Diablos (Dead Devils) would be happier if Purdy were running the show under an Anarch banner.
Not too familiar with Harleys, Caitlyn doubted she was making a good show of riding along. And certainly, dressed in her leather outfit, she was attracting quite a bit of attention. Still, she made it a point of going up Beach Hill the wrong way on a one way street when she got to the hairpin that dropped from 3rd Street down to Front. After all, she was a Brujah. Going this way, she passed by Crown's estate and was about to rev up her engine to give him a bit of noise harrassement when she spied a shadow ducking into the driveway.
Her Harley puttered to a slow crawl and then she stopped, getting off to investigate.
With the growing moonlight, she saw clearly who it was and, knowing he'd been made, Raphael decided to stand up. At his feet, someone lay either dead or unconscious. Sniffing the air, she could smell freshly spilled blood so she was guessing whoever it was was dead. At first she thought it was a cop, but then she saw that the uniform was for a private security guard, probably from the Boardwalk - and probably a Brujah ghoul.
"What's up, Raphael?" Caitlyn asked, trying to diffuse the situation.
At first, Raphael didn't seem to recognize her. He crouched, as if ready to attack.
"Hey, it's me - Caitlyn, remember?"
"Aren't you a Brujah?" Raphael asked her.
Caitlyn nodded. "Well you've known that all along. That didn't stop you the other night though. I've been wanting to talk to you about that - and first, to thank you."
"What'cha got there?" Caitlyn nodded to the dead man at Raphael's feet. She could clearly see the man's torn throat.
Raphael chuckled. "A little present for Crown. I've left one before, but his ghouls found it first and got it away before the police arrived. This time, I'm ready." Raphael held up a cellular phone. "I was thinking of hanging around until the cops showed up, but then - here you are."
"You know, I don't want to piss on your party, and I certainly don't care what happens to someone like Crown, but this could lead to a violation of the Masquerade."
"Like I care," Raphael snorted. "You Cam types, all you care about is skulking in the shadows. Don't youDAMN IT! There I go, talking too much. Peter'll get mad if he finds out."
Raphael pulled out a gun. "Sorry, Bitch, I'm going to have to cap you." He started to giggle, waving the gun around in Caitlyn's general direction. "Say, maybe I could leave your body by the Boardwalk! And then, I'll kill one of Crown's ghouls and it'll make it look like Purdy took revenge." Raphael clapped his hands to the gun. "Ooooh, we're going to have a lot of fun - we are." Looking sadly at Caitlyn, "But not you. Sorry!"
Unable to believe that the vampire who'd saved her life a few nights ago by personally fighting off two werewolves was now going to just cap her offhanded, Caitlyn's mind raced. She focused on only one thing - she had to act now!
(Assuming you survive your current situation, Caitlyn receives on return to her crypt a phone message. It is Chewy, who's relating a command from Purdy to get your ass down to Elysium ASAP as there's been an attempt on the Prince's life. Nonetheless, the crazy loon has called for everyone to show up to Elysium, to the Carousel on Thursday, midnight. You're to bring along a good story for the event.)
Thursday June 15th, 1995 1:09 am
Caitlyn felt a bead of blood trickle from the pours in her forehead and absently tried to brush it aside - showing Raphael that she was scared would be a particularly bad way of getting out of this situation!
"Raphael, I'm sure you have your reasons for doing what you're about to do, but I'm sure you'll let me in on it before finishing me off, won't you?" she began. [Time to make the most of her Presence (2) Discipline here I think - try to get Raphael into a more amenable mood!] Raphael was certainly not acting as she expected. A few nights ago he had been the only thing that kept her from being torn limb from limb, and here he was babbling like a Sabbat loon, decrying the Camarilla and the Masquerade and now threatening to put a bullet through her. Something was amiss for certain - this was not just a kindred that had hidden away his true self until he had integrated himself into the Santa Cruz enclave, she felt sure of that. Something was playing on Raphael's mind - or even with his mind - to make him act this way, something that was afflicting him now.
"Listen Raphael, whatever beef you have with Crown is fine by me; you have to realise that the Brujah would shed few tears of sorrow if he were gone. The problem is that we have enough shit happening now with the damned furbacks without this sort of trouble too! Now put the gun away and let's talk this through, shall we?"
The reason for the bloodhunt on Raphael was certainly becoming clear now, but Caitlyn still refused to believe that he was simply a Sabbat spy.
[JOHN - Unsure how to deal with the combat, as it is against another player, so I'll summarise the situation. Caitlyn will burn blood and make the best use she can of her Celerity. Without the bike she probably stands little chance of getting away, but a combination of her Celerity (and certainly Frenzy if possible!), Dodge and Athletics could be enough to get her off the bike and close enough to Raphael to knock him off balance. The obvious escape for Caitlyn is to remove the gun from the equation and use her speed to get away - if she can do it on the bike then all the better (anyone in her way gets ridden down, including Raphael, and her Drive skill might certainly help here!) but if she can't then she is to run like the wind, burning as much blood as she feels necessary to ensure her escape. Fighting Raphael is out of the question because anyone strong enough to beat up on two werewolves will have no trouble tearing her to pieces! I believe that by a combination of her Wits (3), Celerity (1), Athletics (3), Alertness (4) and Dexterity (3), Caitlyn should be quick enough to get away, even if she is carrying a bullet in doing so. If she can't then she'll do her best in a toe-to-toe match (very unlikely). A last resort has to be to make an apparently deranged Raphael think he's killed her, and use as much blood as she can to heal up afterwards.
The rest of this turn is of course pointless if Caitlyn doesn't survive
(sob!), but if she does, continue onwards.]
Thursday June 15th, 1995 1:10 am
Cailyn burned blood (1 pt.) and then ran for the Harley, gunning it to life. Just as Raphael had begun to raise his gun, the Harley was screaming toward the Gangrel. Caitlyn was going to run him down or at least knock him down, hoping to get the gun away from him and take off before he could recover.
That had been the plan anyway. Raphael it seemed, still had other ideas. As his gun fired wildly, Caitlyn thought she might make it as bullets seemed to miss her, buzzing past her like angry fireflies. Then one screaming bullet pierced her shoulder, throwing her back and sending the Harley on a sparking glide sideways across the street and up into a hedge, leaving most of its chrome on one side behind it. Caitlyn lay stunned on the street. (6 hits - 2 soak = Wounded, -2)
Then a torrent gunfire errupted from some of the upper windows of Crown's mansion, spraying the street below. Crown's ghouls, made attentive by the roar of Caitlyn's bike had finally roused themselves.
Gunfire shredded Raphael who dropped like a sack to the ground. Meanwhile, Caitlyn crawled back to her Harley, and burned blood to heal herself. (Burn 3 blood to heal 2 levels, now Hurt, -1.) Everything was still and quiet. Looking over toward Raphael, she saw that he too was stirring. Grabbing his gun, he popped a couple of quick shots off towards Crown's, breaking a window before scurrying away, using the hedge as cover. Caitlyn waited a few moments, finishing her healing (Burn 2 blood to heal to normal.) Then she stood up, warily waving at Crown's unseen ghouls to stop firing.
"He's run off!" she yelled up to them. "You can stop firing!" She stood up so that they could recognize her.
There was no further firing so she bent down to pick up her Harley, and in so doing was missed by a hail of automatic fire aimed toward where her head had been.
"Crown! You bastard!" she cursed. "QUIT FIRING!" she screamed while dropping to the ground; but that only seemed to draw the firing toward her. There was a pause while they reloaded and Caitlyn used the opportunity to pick up her bike and run it down the street, jumping on it powerless while it coasted away from Crown's.
Thursday June 15th, 1995 1:38am
Caitlyn was still throbbing with adrenaline as she reached the old colonial house, her brush with death in the encounter with Raphael as close as she had come to losing her unlife since ... well since the werewolves almost tore her apart just a couple of days ago. Still shaking slightly, Caitlyn noticed the light on her answerphone blinking patiently, lighting the room with a soft crimson glow before plunging it back into darkness again. She hit the "play" key and waited. Chewy's voice echoed out,t he low tones making the cheap speaker buzz as passed on Purdy's word. The news that there had been an attempt on the Princes life was disturbing, even though she had little respect for Happy. What Chewy had left unsaid was just as unnerving too - was the attempt from a werewolf or from someone else? More annoying was the fact that she was expected there by midnight, and it was already nearly an hour and a half after that. She knew she had to feed before she arrived there too; any more blood lost and she'd frenzy at the faintest scent of vitae, and that wouldn't look too clever in front of the whole Santa Cruz kindred!
Quickly brushing the dirt from her hair, and wiping the worst of the blood sweat from her face, Caitlyn hurried back outside and leapt on the Harley. As the engine growled to life, Caitlyn hear a voice behind her and felt her grip on the throttle tighten.
"Hey, cool bike girl!" the pimply youth said, his admiration aimed more towards the rider than the vehicle. Caitlyn smiled coyly at him and flicked her head towards the back. "Fancy a ride?" she asked. The youth could hardly move quick enough second later Caitlyn felt his sweaty hands round her waist - this at least solved the problem of finding a meal quickly anyway!
Thursday June 15th, 1995 1:47am
Her boots echoed across the wooden planks as she hurried towards the Carousel, knowing that she at least had a good excuse for being late. Purdy had told her to bring a good story with her, and she certainly had a doozy! She could tell them about Raphael, could make up some shit about how she had fought with him and tried to bring him in, and then she could find out if anyone knew who this "Peter" was he was talking about. She just had to hope she wasn't late enough to have people not bother listening to her!
Thursday, June 15th, 1995 1:54 a.m.
"What do you mean I'm early?" Caitlyn asked, fully flustered. They were in the Haunted House, the Brujah hangout in Elysium. Behind her, Caitlyn could hear the whirring of the machinery that drove the automated schlock that frightened the kine riding on the other side of the wall.
"Happy's gig is not until tonight," Purdy told her. "But I wouldn't say you were early. Where were you when we were fighting off the furbacks?"
Caitlyn fumed. "Didn't you tell me that I was supposed to be looking out for Brandon Lawrence? How do you expect me to be two places at once?"
Purdy ignored her questions, asking one of his own.
"Did you find him?"
"No," Caitlyn admitted. "He's disappeared. Hasn't come to work - on some sort of medical leave." Before Purdy could say something, Caitlyn interjected, her comment drawing stares from Chewy who stood alongside Purdy.
"I just came from a fight with Raphael." Caitlyn held up her sleeve to show the bullet wound and the blood.
"Raphael?" Chewy said in an unbelieving tone.
'Where?" Purdy asked her.
Caitlyn nodded towards the direction of Beach Hill. "Up at Crown's place. I caught Raphael trying to dump a body in front. It was a Boardwalk security guard."
Purdy looked over at Chewy.
"Lange didn't show up for his shift tonight," Chewy nodded.
"And to top it all," Caitlyn fumed, "after stopping Raphael, Crown's ghouls opened up on me - even after I told them who I was! I barely made it out of there."
"Probably because you told them who you were," Purdy laughed, not seeming to care that Caitlyn had almost met her end. "Crown probably thinks we're on the run. Capping another one of us would've been a bargain. He could've said later it was an accident."
"But Purdy!" Chewy protested.
Purdy held up his hand. "Yeah, I know." Turning once more to Caitlyn, he pointedly asked, "You're positive that it was Raphael you saw?"
Caitlyn paused, trying to keep her anger in check. "He was right in front of me, Purdy. I wasn't mistaken," she said, glaring at Chewy.
"I didn't say you were," Purdy replied. He pulled out a walkie talkie. "Hey Buzz, come in. You still watching that Gangrel piece of shit?"
A staticky voice replied, "Yeah. We're on him. He hasn't left our sight and it doesn't look like he's got the guts to leave the park. We're on him if he does, though."
"Good. But keep the juices in him until later. He's got an appointment to keep, but after that - He's mine." Purdy put the walkie talkie down.
"What's that all about?" Caitlyn asked.
"Cmon, I'll show you," Purdy offered.
Together, they exited out of a side door of the Haunted House, passing tourists lined up for a cheap scare one last time before the park closed down.
Purdy walked Caitlyn over to the galleria leading to the Casino Arcade. Caitlyn's blood froze. Raphael was there, leaning over the railing, looking distantly toward the beach and rolling surf, and occasionally glancing over toward the wharf when some seagull's lonely scream drew his attention that way.
A biker walked up. Caitlyn presumed from his Spartan coiffure that he must be Buzz, one of Purdy's ghouls.
"He's been that way all night," Buzz told them. "Hasn't moved a bit. The other one took off a while ago."
Purdy nodded, and Buzz left them.
Turning to Caitlyn, "That's why I was asking if you were sure? He's been there all night."
"Purdy! I swear by Caine himself" Caitlyn began, but stopped when Purdy held his hand up.
"Hey! Cool it, chylde. Don't get upset. I believe you."
Caitlyn was relieved. Then it struck her. "Why?" she asked.
"Why? Cause Soon-To Be-Eternally-Dusted over there came here accusing me of ashing that chylde he stupidly made. Point was, that I was here at the time, helping keeping Happy's ass shiny from all that furback shit at the very time the Gangrel says I was dusting his whelp."
Purdy let this sink in and then continued. "Now, I don't think wolfdung over there has quite enough talent to be both here and over at Crown's, trying to dust you. And certainly, even I don't have quite the ability to be guarding Happy and capping that Gangrel's chylde. So that leaves, one thing, namely" He waved his hands for her to continue.
"an imposter," Caitlyn whistled.
"Yeah," Purdy agreed. "We're getting into some stinky shit now."
Thursday, June 15th, 1995 11:44 p.m.
The kindred were busy talking amongst themselves, while their ghoul bodyguards hovered nearby amongst the kine. Los Diablos Muertos had had to round everyone up, making sure that they showed up at the meeting and in some cases, providing an escort. With the werewolves running amuck, most kindred were afraid to venture out. News of the Toreador, Claudia Bertini's final death had gotten out. She'd been destroyed two nights before - torn apart by werewolves while out hunting, while the Toreador primogen, Mudita, had been savagely mauled. Once, when a wolf howled in the distance, all conversation stopped and everyone paused, as if expecting another lupine attack, obviously fearing that what had happened to Claudia and Mudita would happen to them. And, with the recent attack on Elysium, speculation and rumours were floating that the attack had only been beaten off with much loss being taken by the Brujah. Normally, a Brujah setback would have been a cause célèbre for most Santa Cruz vampires, but recently, with wolves at the door, most vampires seemed more afraid of change than anything else. The Brujah were cruel and overbearing - but at least they were seen as protection - or at least they had once been.
Other talking speculated on who had been leaving corpses around crypts. Evil glances were shot at the one vampire no one expected to find at Elysium - Raphael, the very culprit who'd been accused of leaving the dead vessels. Word was circulating that Raphael had diablerized his own chylde to try and get out from under the bloodhunt and that he was present trying to beg the Prince to let him back into favor.
Other topics discussed floated around speculation as to why a Giovanni had come to the city - especially in such a troubled time when it would have been safer to stay away. The rich Ventrue, Spiral, it was said had already left, being flown out in a private helicopter and was said to be now in London. The Brujah doctor, Brandon Lawerence, it was said found a way to cut out. Many other kindred would have also sought a way to leave Santa Cruz had they the means. The Giovanni, Mira was her name, cut an elegant figure in her Gianfranco Ferre dress, hanging out mostly with the remaining Ventrue, Thomas Crown and Diane Forester. She seemed lively and animate, seemingly unaware or uncaring of the storm brewing around them all.
And last, the topic everyone was wondering about but no one was voicing was why Happy had summoned them all. Was it something to do with Raphael, or the werewolves? Did the Giovanni have something to do with it?
It was apparent that Purdy wasn't taking any chance about Happy's security. Purdy was having words with Raphael - and not nice ones at that.
"You came, chylde? Niiiiiiice. Real nice."
Raphael bared his fangs and hissed softly.
"Cute dentition. I bet it will do a perfect necklace for my babe, eh Rebecca?" Purdy said as he walked past Raphael. Rebecca laughed and blew a kiss to Raphael and walked away with Purdy.
Later, Prince Happy, escorted by Purdy, Rebecca and Chewy, came out of the carousel. Suddenly, the Gangrel, Raphael, charged toward the carousel, claws fully extended and fangs bared. From somewhere, someone shouted "HEY! The stray dog's up to something!". But no one was in a position to stop him other than the Brujah on the carousel with Happy. On the carousel, Happy was not paying the slightest attention to what was happening below and was raising his arms, preparing to speak to his audience. Purdy was looking straight at Raphael. He was grinning, obviously satisfied that Raphael was now literally running in his lap. He positioned himself before Happy and waited, ready to tear Raphael to ribbons. But as Raphael jumped on the carousel and leaped on his prey, it was Rebecca, not Prince who was the obvious target.
The impact knocked Raphael and Rebecca down the carousel. They met the ground with a loud "thud". As Raphael raised his arm to slash another time, a black hand closed on it. The hand twisted and Raphael's arm broke with a sharp noise. Raphael screamed and tried to release his arm from Chewy grip, but the Brujah was quicker. In seconds, he was holding Raphael in a bear hug and was pulling Raphael's head back, giving himself a free access to Raphael's neck. Raphael tried to move but the Brujah was too powerful. It was the end. But the death blow didn't come.
Rebecca and Raphael had fallen from the carousel. Rebecca, now healed, was still laying down, eagerly about to watch the spectacle of Raphael's slaughter. However, there was a murmur from the crowd which parted to reveal - Rebecca!
"What the FUCK!" this Rebecca spat, gazing at her unholy twin lying on the ground beside Chewy and Raphael.
"IMPOSTER!" the first Rebecca screamed. "GET HER!"
The first Rebecca jumped on and tackled the second Rebecca, tossing back onto the carousel. There was screaming, and mounds of torn hair, all of it black; but one Rebecca, and no one could be sure which she was, seemed to have the upper hand when a gunshot rang out. One of the Rebeccas staggered back, holding her stomach.
As the two Rebeccas were busy tearing each others brains out, Chewy, still holding Raphael in his bear hug, turned his glance toward Purdy, asking for instructions. Purdy saw him and nodded in direction of the two Rebeccas, drawing his gun. Chewy nodded back, throwing Raphael roughly to the ground and advanced toward one of the Rebeccas. Chewy tackled her, pinning her down.
"Get off me you STUPID FUCK!" this Rebecca screamed, but Chewy held her down.
With this opportunity, the other Rebecca fled into the workings of the carousel.
"HAPPY!" Purdy screamed his warning. Chewy tossed his Rebecca away and he and a number of ghouls ran towards the carousel. There were sounds of more shooting. The Brujah backed off as two screaming, howling Malkavian Princes came tumbling out into the open. Shedding even more blood onto the area, the two identical Prince Happys finally parted and stood glaring at one another.
Raphael immediately tried to take advantage of this momentary freedom, but the Dead Devils were faster. Before he could get up, three bikers were on his back and were trying to pin him down. Raphael struggled widly and almost managed to shrug the men off his back, but in the end his still-healing arm and the raw strength of the three ghouls defeated him. Immobilized, he saw the two Happys tumble down the carousel and all that ensued.
"You are a pathetic excuse for an imposter," one of the Happys said while straightening his suit.
"No, obviously you are," the other Happy said, preening himself in a compact mirrour while retwirling his moustache. "Anyone with eyes can see that you lack the panache of a real Prince."
"Which one IS the real, Prince?" Mudita, the Toreador primogen asked, voicing the question on everyone's mind. "I can't tell them apart. They both have a similar aura. They're both psychotic."
She pressed her fingers to her temples. "I can't read their thoughts well. I see terrible dark things from both of them - but I can't tell you which is the real Prince."
"There is a way," one of the Happys said, looking toward Thomas Crown, who was standing toward the back of the crowd. The other Happy looked at the Happy who'd just spoken and nodded his head. "Yes, I agree. That is the way. Thomas?"
Crown's jaw dropped. "NO! I refuse!"
"What's going on?" Alexandra Hammel asked. "What's he - they - talking about?"
The Happy who'd spoken last volunteered, "Our brother, Thomas, knows someone - a mutual confidant - that knows our person well and who could easily identify the real Prince."
"Never!" Crown vowed. "I would rather see her dead than humiliated in this way!"
"Aren't you worried that it is you who will be humiliated?" the other Happy pointed out.
"Good point!" the other Happy agreed.
"Merci," Happy replied, smiling.
Thomas Crown pushed his way toward the front of the crowd.
"End this charade!" he demanded of Purdy. "We can't tell which one is the real, Happy. We can't take the chance of killing the wrong one. I say kill them both!"
Purdy looked over at Crown. "Get your hand off my jacket," he growled.
"Come off it, man! We can be rid of this excuse of a Prince once and for all! YOU can take his place! I'll support YOU! Anything is better than that laughing stock of a lick sitting up there in stereo! It's more than I can bear! Kill them both! Then, the Camarilla would finally respect us. Even that Anarch rabble over in San Jose and Salinas - THEY would respect YOU. You can finally bring peace to the city."
"Cmon!" Chewy urged. "Cmon Purdy, let's dump Happyass and we'll make you our Prince! What about it?"
The Brujah ghouls took up the chorus, cheering for Purdy.
Rebecca could be seen whispering something in Purdy's ear that looked like, "Do it." Obviously, the moment was ripe for Purdy to take the reigns.
Purdy pushed Crown roughly back into the crowd, nearly knocking over the Gangrel, Mish, who stood in the way.
"Crown, who're you trying to fool? Everyone know's that you won't be satisfied until you're Prince. And you'd get the Toreador or Gangrel to try and ice me once you figured you could get away with it - and the Tremere would help."
"Me?" Alexandra shook her head. "No, not me, Purdy. I just want to serve, trust me." Obviously Alexandra thought that Purdy might make actually make a go of becoming Prince.
"And Crown, if I ever did become Prince, my first official act would be to have you staked for sunrise. So give it a rest. Face it, Happy's Prince because he's the lesser of many evils. If you became Prince, the anarchs would waltz here in a quick minute. You don't have the briefest of notions of how to deal with them. And no one, besides the Brujah - and maybe the Nosferatu - really want me as Prince." Purdy scanned the crowd. No one disputed him thus far. "All of you would scheme and connive to bring me down. But with Happy, everyone's willing to let it slide. No one's really jolly, but we all exist - together!" Purdy scanned the crowd. There were grumbles but when he looked that way, voices grew silent. "Otherwise, the whole candle melts. Point taken?"
There was silence, but no one offered disagreement.
"So, what do we do now?" the Nosferatu, Loparlo asked. "Do we just wait?"
Purdy looked at the two Happys. "I don't think we have much of a choice right now - until someone here can come up with a way to tell who's who?"
Purdy turned to Crown. "What about this confidant that the Happys were mentioning?"
"Forget it," Crown hissed. "You had your chance, Purdy. By throwing away my help, you've shown yourself to be a greater idiot than those two on carousel. Don't expect my aid in anything further. Frankly, I don't care who rules here!"
The little speech by Crown had rubbed Caitlyn up the wrong way too - she was beginning to like this bastard less and less with every time she laid eyes on him. There was something about his recent actions that rankled too; the imposter had proven to be a real problem for everyone concerned, but Crown seemed to have come through pretty unscathed. Now here he was supposedly supporting Purdy, suggesting that the Prince be removed and that Purdy take his place. That sounded REAL likely! Crown was obviously out for himself and whatever else he pretended was part of his own hidden agenda. Purdy was right - Crown would find a way to ensure that he killed off the Brujah threat if Purdy ever did rise to Prince, and not a kindred here thought otherwise.
"Alright. If anyone has any ideas, chuck it up. Otherwise, we all hang until this thing is resolved - and childer - from the way it looks it's goin ta be a real long night."
At that, it was obvious that the "secret" Crown had, this woman he spoke of, was what they needed to bring out. Why did this damned annoying Primogen think he had carte-blanche to do whatever he felt like all the time? Damn it, this was starting to threaten the whole security of Santa Cruz!
Caitlyn felt the fury building in her, her eyes boring into the back of Crown as the red tide of frenzy threatened to swamp her mind. She breathed deeply trying to control herself, fighting against the urge to confront Crown here before the rest of the gathered Camarilla. If she faced him down, he'd have to kill her, but surely everyone wasn't just going to let him walk away and leave the situation where it was?
"Come on, Crown, bring this woman forward! We need to get this crap out of the way and concentrate on getting some normality restored here. If you can solve this problem, then fucking solve it!", Caitlyn shouted over the mumbling voices around her. As Crown turned to face her, she felt that trouble was just about to burst forth. As she tucked her hand inside her leather jacket, reassured by the feel of the gun Purdy had so kindly given her.
However, she need not have feared. Crown just sneered at her, turning to Purdy and commenting, "Perdicas, put a leash on your bitch. She's barking and it's starting to annoy me."
"FUCK YOU!" Caitlyn pulled the gun out, pointing it at Crown's head. "You BASTARD! I'm not forgetting what you tried to do to me. Don't push it!"
"I don't know what you're talking about," Crown yawned, ignoring the gun.
Caitlyn addressed the others in the crowd. "I got the imposter posing as Raphael trying to dump the body of one of our ghouls in front of Crown's crypt. I save his ass and he tries to ice me for it."
Crown's sneer crept back across his face. "Oh that." He smiled, looking something like a nicely dressed lizard with a grin. "Sorry my dear. I could hardly tell you apart. Street trash - it all looks the same."
Something in Caitlyn snapped and she pulled the trigger. However Purdy, moving so fast that no one could even remember having seen him move, suddenly had the gun in his hand, even as it went off, firing harmlessly onto the beach. Everyone watched a bunch of sand fly up and then it was totally silent.
Crown looked unperturbed. However, Caitlyn noticed one small bead of blood sweat travelling down his cheek. Casually, Crown pulled out a handkerchief and mopped his face.
"I won't insist on a Bloodhunt for violating Elysium," he told Caitlyn. "But learn to watch your temper. Next time" He finished without continuing.
"Yeah," Caitlyn nodded. "Next time," she promised.
Purdy, observing this, handed the gun back to Caitlyn.
Speaking like nothing had happened, he asked Crown, "So who IS this babe the Happys were mentioning?"
Crown just glared at him and walked away without answering. A number of his own well armed prepy ghouls appeared carrying automatic weapons, covering his tracks. He started up a conversation with Mira Giovanni and soon the two of them had pulled away from the others while his ghouls formed a screen around them.
Friday, June 16th, 1995 12:17 a.m.
Purdy had just finished his speech. He motioned to Chewy and other Dead Devils to guard the two Happys and walked toward Raphael. Raphael, who was still pined down. Purdy knelt beside Raphael and yanked his head up by his hair.
"Tell me, you little shithead, how did you know it wasn't Rebecca on the stage?"
Raphael growled, then squinted as if from pain as the biker who was holding his broken arm to the ground twisted it sharply. He looked Purdy in the eyes and said slowly, as if each syllable was difficult to pronounce, "The scent... Her scent wasn't right..."
Purdy nodded. "It makes sense. Could you do the same trick with these two suckers?" he said pointing at the two Happys.
Raphael looked at the two Happys. He passed his tongue on his lips and said, "I maybe can".
Purdy released his grip on Raphael's hair. "What we have to loose anyway? Well, stray dog, what're you waiting for? Get up and take a good sniff."
With the maximum of decorum he could muster, Raphael got up. Slowly he walked toward the two Happys, who were looking at him with an amused glance. Raphael got up onto the carousel and sniffed. He stayed there for several minutes and appeared to be trying to decide, looking at first one and then the other of the supposed Malkavians. Finally, Raphael turned to Mish and the others and shook his head. He couldn't tell them apart.
Friday, June 16th, 1995 12:25 a.m.
The vampires, even Raphael who was made safe for the moment by virtue of Elysium, broke up to talk. They wouldn't leave until dismissed by Purdy. After all, with all of the lupine activity, most of them would need the Dead Devils to escort them to the vicinity of their crypts anyway.
Caitlyn approached the Toreador, Miryam.
"Hi Myriam", said Caitlyn as she approached, "I think we should talk?"
"Last time we even laid eyes on each other was at the carousel, and I didn't have time to get back to you. Since then, all kinds of shit have turned up, and I've barely had time to get a handle on my own life, let alone those of anyone else in this mad hellhole of a town! I reckon that now we need to start pooling resources a lille thought - it should be obvious to everyone that the Brujah have taken a bit of a battering, and I don't think we can afford the luxury of drifting off into inter-clan rivalries whenever we feel like it. Sure, I'd love to see Crown dusted, but I don't have the time or energy to consider that at the moment!"
"We Brujah are gonna need to trust a few of the lesser kindred right now, or at least talk to them and ensure they know which side they should be fighting on. For the sake of Santa Cruz as a whole, Happy must stay in power and we have to be sure we don't so anything stupid. As much as I'd like to stay here and talk it out "I might be a bit busy over the next few days; Purdy's gonna need every one of us still here to stand up and be counted. A word of warning for you though - watch out for Crown! He's a might too ambitious for my liking, and if he thought that offing a few more of us would leave him in a good position to take control here, he'd do it. Even those in his own clan aren't safe if you ask me. Just keep on your toes and watch out for anyone moving to take advantage for themselves."
Miryam looked confused, but Caitlyn may of noticed that it may be from something other than her words. "I am glad you came to speak to me, I have to confess that I am not interested in the politics here, but it is apparant that politics and the conflicts are interested in me!" She adds in a distressfull tone, "I don't know what to do, or exactly what danger I am in".
"Politics!", screamed Caitlyn, still obviously buzzing from the subsiding frenzy, "if you call the sort of shit that Crown and his cronies deal politics, then I can understand you keeping out of it!" As one or two of the close-by kindred looked over at her, Caitlyn sucked in a deep breath and fought herself back towards at least a semblance of self-control. "Sorry Miryam, but it's been a bad couple of days, and I am sick of the crap that I keep having dumped on me. You'll have to overlook my lack of tolerance at the moment."
"Caitlyn" Miryam said after listening to her, agreeing that trust would be important between them, "what do you know of the Sabbat"? Miryam looked about, feeling uncomfortable, but continued. "I may of encountered someone from that group, more particulary, the Clan Tzimisze" She paused, then added, "I am afraid"
"Clan Tzimisze?", frowned Caitlyn, "No, never heard of them, but if they are anything to do with this imposter, then you've got to assume it's something to do with either shapechanging or illusions. My guess is the latter. You can also be sure that if they are Sabbat, then they are bad! It would also explain a lot about the attack on Happy - what is it you know of them, Miryam? who was it that you came across? Come on, anything you can tell me will be a help."
Miryam looked extremely uncomfortable for a moment, then regained her composure. "there is something truely evil going on. I know little to nothing about the Sabbat, but I have a name, Pyotr, of Clan Tzimisze. I guess he has to be a shape shifter, for he came to me as Raphael." Miryam lost her composure once again, fearfully looking around her to see if anyone else was noticing. "Caitlyn, he attacked me, Raphael or Pyotr, it must of been Pyotr the first time, he is much stronger than me, I was helpless, he.." She paused, nearly crying, 'he violated me, he said he was going to intiate me into the Sabbat"
After saying this, she put her hand up to her neck as if comforting an invisible wound.
A frown clouded Caitlyn's face, her anger still bubbling just under the surface after here near frenzied attack on Crown. Now here was a kindred much like her - still pretty new to this place - and a Sabbat agent had apparently forced himself upon her. She looked again at Miryam and at the hand she held to her throat.
"Violated, you say? What little I've been told about the Sabbat leads me to believe they hold you in thrall by blood bonding or something like that", Caitlyn began, "is that what he tried to do to you? Did he try to force you to take his blood?"
Whatever the case was, Caitlyn now felt much more urgently that this imposter should be brought out into the open before anyone left the Elysium. He should be dragged out and killed quickly - and she felt sure that Miryam would lend her voice to the swell.
"Did he give you his blood?", she asked Miryam. "If he did then we will need to do something about that. Perhaps one of the Promigen might know how to deal with this. Whatever the case, we need to let everyone know what you've told me. That okay by you?"
Miryam didn't look up into Caitlyn's eyes, "No, no, I did not drink".
Touching Miryam under the chin, Caitlyn lifted her face and looked deep into her eyes. It was certain that the affair with the Sabbat had left her shaken, and Caitlyn didn't want to psuh the matter any further if it made her uncomfortable.
"If you didn't take his blood, then it shouldn't have harmed you. I'd still speak of this to the others if I was you. It might be best not to approach Purdy at the moment though, he's pretty pissed off with everyone at present, me more than most!"
After talking to Miryam, Caitlyn turned to address Raphael. While the others watched the two Happys, Caitlyn glanced at Raphael and made her move, she had to let him know that she was grateful for his help a few days back, and also that he could count on her support if the shit really hit the fan and Purdy wanted to ensure he paid for any part in this mix up that might be his fault. She had to let him know he wasn't going to be on his own - she always paid her debts to anyone and everyone. Walking over to the Gangrel, she found him deep in thought. She wondered where his mind was. She'd heard that his chylde, the one which he'd suffered so much for, had been killed.
"Hi Raphael", said Caitlyn as she approached the now less than dapper looking kindred, "I think we should talk?"
Raphael momentarely stopped and turned his head toward Caitlyn. Now that she was nearer, Caitlyn was able to have a good look at Raphael. His clothes were torn and caked with blood. Given how slowly his arm was taking to heal, Caitlyn judged that he must have lost a lot of blood recently and was in desperate need of feeding. Certainly, he didn't look the same as the last time Caitlyn had seen him; the night were he had saved her from the furbacks, he had looked and sounded like a bon vivant. But now his eyes were two pools of undiluated rage and despair. When Caitlyn looked at them, she sensed his dangerous mood.
Caitlyn said to Raphael, "First of all, I own you a debt of thanks for helping me out against those two furbacks the other night. If you hadn't stepped in I might well have been dusted. I repay my debts, and if you need any help working you way through any of this shit that we are now all in, just ask."
With a grin Caitlyn added, "In truth, I've been backing your side of this all the way through, even when the bloodhunt had been called. I reckoned something was wrong somewhere and even when the imposter turned up at Crown's place looking like you, and threatened to ice me, I knew it couldn't be you. Just didn't make sense, man. I mean, why risk your own neck against two lupines to keep me alive, just so you could shoot me a couple of days later?"
"I might be a bit busy over the next few days, as the Brujah have been somewhat depleted and Purdy's gonna need every one of us left to stand up and be counted. A word of warning for you though - watch out for Crown! He's a might too ambitious for my liking, and if he thought that offing a few more of us would leave him in a good position to take control here, he'd do it. Even those in his own clan aren't safe if you ask me. Just keep on your toes and watch out for anyone moving to take advantage for themselves. And remember, if you need me, I'm yours!"
Raphael listened to everything Caitlyn said quietly. When she finished, he grinned to her, chuckling softly.
"Thanks for the support. I think you will not have to be endebted for long." He pointed the two Happys, deep in conversation with themselves. "As soon as I or someone else find which one of these two are the impersonating bastard, he's mine. And after that... I guess there will be a reckoning with Purdy. But who know? Aaah, mademoiselle, it have been a pleasure to meet you, even such... extreme circonstances."
Before her eyes, Raphael transformed into a wolf and then broke toward the stage in a run. A dark blur burst past her and bounded in the direction of the two Happys.... As the wolf bounded towards the Prince, Caitlyn kept her eyes fixed on Crown. Let the other Brujah take care of Happy, she was going to watch what Crown did. Any move that was to the detriment of the Prince or to any of the Brujah, and she would act. The bastard would find himself having to soak a full clip if he put a foot wrong!
Her eyes followed Crown's as it turned in surprise. The sound of automatic fire erupted behind her. Turning she saw another wolf standing beside a dead wolf that was transforming back into - Raphael.
"You didn't have to shoot him," Mish said, after transforming himself.
"Fuck that!" Purdy said. "I wanted to shoot him. And what was he doing going after the Happys. Dumb and Dumber. We're better off rid of him."
"Well he's not at final death yet," Mish announced. "You've just driven him into torpor."
Caitlyn, after quickly conferring with Miryam, looked over at the slumped body of Raphael. Something had to be done quickly, otherwise this whole thing would just go to hell, the imposter - this Tzimisze named Pyotr - would get away in all the confusion. Apart from that, she didn't want Raphael to die, she still owed him for saving her life.
"Purdy", she began, trying her best to sound authoritative to those around here even though she felt anything but, "let's sort this thing out quickly and have done with it!" Pointing towards Miryam she added, "Miryam here knows a thing or two about our imposter. She says he's a Tzimisze named Pyort, and if we can use that, and whatever this woman of Crown's knows, then we can work out who is the real Prince. Let's force this issue and get things sorted out once and for all".
She glanced towards Miryam, not at all sure that in her shaken-up state she might be able to tell them all she could, but something had to be done.
She pointed them towards the slumped Raphael, where Mish stood looking over the body. "I also want to keep Raphael alive", she began, and then noting the black look that swept over Purdy's face, she hurried on. "I know, I know ... he deserved everything he got but he was getting desperate to do something. If some bastard had taken on your form and started killing kindred left right and centre, might you not want to sort him out yourself? Raphael might have acted stupidly, but I owe him, Purdy. He saved my skin against a couple of furbacks some time ago, and I want to pay my debts. Let me give him some of my blood just to bring him round; not enough to let him try anything stupid again, but I want him kept alive."
(If Purdy allows it, and only if, then Caitlyn will cut her arm and feed Raphael until he comes out or torpor. Once he shows any signs of consciousness the feeding stops and Raphael is held pinned to the ground. If Caitlyn can't manage it, she asks Mish to help out.}
(Throughout the whole affair Caitlyn will support the Brujah and any decisions they make, particularly if involves forcing Crown to do something he doesn't want to do <grin>. She does however want to do her best to help Raphael out and will give all she can to persuade Purdy he deserves to live.)
Friday, June 16th, 1995 12:35 a.m.
Rebecca scoffed and would have said something scathing had Purdy not given her a dirty look, which made her swallow her comment even on the edge of voicing it. Purdy seemed to take Caitlyn's request very seriously.
"Yea, well I understand the need to repay a obligation. I'm not going to say I approve of your decision. I think you're a fuckin idiot, and my opinion of you has dropped to the gutter. But if you have a debt, I'll respect your right to pay it off. BUT!" Purdy held his finger up in front of Caitlyn's face, "I'm going to hold you personally responsible for that lick's actions from here on out - because you're the one who brought him back." Purdy lifted Caitlyn up by her jacket, so that she faced him, her feet well off the ground. "And you keep him out of my face and out of trouble or I'll have you ashed right alongside him when the time comes! Dig?"
Caitlyn nodded. What have I gotten myself into? she asked herself. Purdy stormed off toward the carousel, obviously in a bad mood. Caitlyn turned to the others for help, but everyone but Mish turned away, not willing to face the displeasure of the Brujah primogen to help an outcast Gangrel.
All Caitlyn could do, watching her blood pour into Raphael's upturned mouth was think that it was wasted vitae. Chances were that Raphael would be destroyed by Purdy the moment he left Elysium. But at the least, her conscience would be satisfied. She will have paid her debt.
Friday, June 16th, 1995 2:58 a.m.
As time progressed, it became obvious that nothing was going to end the impasse. Dawn was getting closer and many kindred began to grumble. Most demanded to leave, in response to which Purdy said that they could leave - but alone, without protection.
With "wild dog" packs roaming the streets of the Flats, no kindred would leave the Boardwalk and the safety of Elysium as provided by the Brujah and their armed biker and security guard ghouls. Caitlyn found her thoughts wandering to finding some ghouls of her own. But given her actions vis-a-vis Raphael, she doubted that this was the right time to approach Purdy about it. In fact, she doubted that Purdy would want to see her face anytime soon.
So the end result was that almost the entire kindred population of Santa Cruz was holed up at the amusement park, now closed. They began to break up, hoping to find suitable sleeping places during the day. No one was happy and may kindred were begging Crown to be loaned some of his ghouls for protection. Much as Crown would have enjoyed having the Toreador and Nosferatu beholden to him, he couldn't really spare his ghouls as he had no intention of sleeping at the Boardwalk and had already promised safe passage to the Giovanni, Mira.
More and more, pressure was being put on Crown to produce this so-called mystery woman who could identify the real Prince. But Crown refused, and in fact, now denied the existence of any such person as a figment of a madman's imagination.
Finally, it was the Tremere, Alexandra Hammel, who finally came up with a solution - of sorts. What she proposed was that, if the imposter was using blood, as almost all Cainites did, to fuel his power, than if he were depleted of blood, he would be unable to maintain the facade.
"But can you take their blood so easily?" Mudita asked Alex.
The Tremere merely smiled. "Blood magic is our specialty. My only concern is that if I take too much, I could harm the real Prince, or drive him into Torpor."
"Don't worry my dear," Crown smiled. "I certainly won't hold you responsible and I applaud your attempt."
Purdy didn't seem happy about the idea of a Tremere working blood magic on the real Prince. He suspected Alexandra, probably correctly, as being a Ventrue puppet; so it came down to a Primogen vote. Purdy of course voted no, but the other Primogen, becoming anxious with the approach of dawn, voted with Crown.
Purdy warned the Tremere of what would happen to her if the Prince was harmed, which only made her more nervous.
"I'm hoping that the Prince either has more blood or has stronger blood than the imposter. Between the fight the imposter was in with Rebecca, and from what I hear, being shot up by Mister Crown's ghouls, I'm hoping he's fairly depleted."
Saying this, Alexandra, screened for secrecy by some black cloth, began to work her magic. Almost at once, both Happys began to show discomfort.
Everyone's eyes were on the figures on the carousel.
Though both showed distress, one was obviously the worse for the effect. Soon, one of the Happys collapsed, while the other looked over, his expression one of concern for his fallen foe.
Purdy rushed up, looking at the standing figure. "Happy?" he asked.
His answer came when the other vampire leaned up and groaned. Everyone gasped. Instead of Happy, a pale faced gaunt blond vampire, with an unfortunate blemish on his cheek, looked up at the crowd. He appeared ill with lack of vitae, but his reaction was to giggle.
"He's Mad!" Crown gasped.
"Of course he is," Mudita told him. "Who else but another Malkavian!"
While Chewy held the imposter in his arms, Purdy searched him, and soon yanked off an ancient looking Medallion.
Crown, ever the antique expert announced, "Byzantine. Probably 13th century."
"Who are you?" Purdy demanded.
"Ah, mon petit Brujah," the real Happy said in a tired voice, "he is one of mes freres who has lost his way, dancing to the song of that other chorus. Alas, he is un Malkav antitribu. I heard his song in the voice of my soul, as can all of my kind recognize each the other when our souls are in tune."
Purdy nodded. "Sabbat. That's what I figured."
"Nice to let us all in on your suspicions," Crown hissed.
"Actually, I was waiting until they got you. Might as well make them do some good work while they were here."
The Nosferatu, Loparlo cut in before things could get too heated. "You said 'they.' Does that mean you think there are more?"
Purdy shrugged. "Who knows." Turning to Chewy, Purdy told his clanmate, "Take him back to the Crib. I'll want to 'talk' to him."
"I'll want to be privy to this interrogation," Crown demanded.
Purdy just turned and smiled. "I'd love to, Crown. Someday, I'll make sure you get to witness my interrogation techniques first hand. But until then, just count your blessings that it isn't your turn - yet."
"You dare to threaten me?!" Crown fumed.
"Obviously. Are you issuing a challenge then? You have that right."
Crown appeared distressed. "No. I won't fight you. I know that's what you want."
"Crown," Purdy growled, "You don't know me and you have no idea 'what I want.'"
"Gentlemen, let's focus on matters at hand," Jonathan Loparlo suggested. "With wolves literally at the door, and now the attentions of the Sabbat, we can hardly afford to fight amongst ourselves. Let's let bygones be just that - bye and gone."
The matter was settled when Prince Happy tapped his cane loudly on the carousel floor. Crown and Purdy turned away from each other.
Chewy took the imposter away for interrogation, screened by a band of his ghouls.
Happy affected a clearing of his throat. "Mes enfants, it is short until dawn. On Saturday, you must all return and tell me your stories. I shall decide then who the winner shall be."
"The winner?" Purdy asked. "The winner of what?"
"On Saturday - midnight" Happy started to leave but then turned. "Oh, Monsieur Crown, the amulet, sil vous plait."
He held out his white cadaverous hand and Crown, stalling at first, finally handed it over. The Prince left and the others did to, being escorted away by the Brujah ghouls.
Friday, June 16th, 1995 3:16 a.m.
The Crib was located in a service area behind the "Cave Train" ride, but included some of the service and storage garages under the antique auto ride as well. It was in fact, a torture chamber, almost medieval in it's accoutrements. The acetylene torches and face masks lined with razors were mostly for effect. Purdy was said to be an expert at extracting information, using drugs for mortals and fine precision tools for immortals. It was said he knew the best way of extracting the greatest amount of physical pain for the least amount of effort. Of course, if they were allowed to live, his "guests", though they showed little external signs of his attentions, were always permanently affected by the experience. And for someone undead, eternity was a long time to carry with them such a memory of pain.
Caitlyn felt a chill in her already cold body as she entered the Crib. Fluorescent lights glared down from overhead and scene was even more shocking. One of the ghouls lay dead, disemboweled. Chewy was there, looking all torn up but he was alright. The Malkavian was gone. His head had been ripped off. He wasn't going to be talking to anyone.
"What happened?" Purdy growled.
"Fuck!" Chewy spat, obviously in pain. "He went nuts! I didn't think a Malkavian could fight like that. He got Hale and then went for me. I don't know, Purdy. My Beast got a hold of me. I didn't mean to, but then it was over. Please, Purdy, it wasn't my fault!"
Purdy didn't say anything for the longest time. Then he turned slowly to Caitlyn. "Leave," was all he said.
It was all she needed. Caitlyn hustled out of there. Just before closing the double steel doors, soundproofing the room, she heard what she thought was an inhuman scream. Then she just ran all the way back to the surface, where the world at least seemed to have sanity.
Saturday, June 17th, 1995 12:00 midnight.
It was another foggy night. With wolves still prowling the street, it had been quite an adventure for some of the kindred to arrive safely. Still, by pooling their ghoul escorts, a number of the more wealthy and powerful kindred, mostly Crown, Purdy, and Loparlo had been able to give enough escort for vampires calling the Boardwalk in need of such. Mish too had gone out and brought in several vampires so that the compliment meeting that midnight represented nearly the entire vampire population of Santa Cruz, with many ghouls present as well. Of course, Mock, the Nosferatu primogen was absent, as always. Loparlo it was said was going to be named primogen in the elder's place as, with the diablerizing Sabbat around, who could blame the ancient vampire for wanting to stay away.
As it turned out, a number of petitions were to be heard that night. Aside from Loparlo being named primogen, the Brujah, Purdy, wanted to be allowed to embrace three new clan members to replace Jerry Jones, Richard Lopez and Tony Darc. Crown was expected to have none of it and the Toreador, Mudita and Gangrel, Mish were expected to vote with Crown. For this reason, Loparlo's being named a primogen took on a new importance for Purdy, who, with the Prince in his pocket, needed more votes to at least bring about a tie; with the Prince declaring any tie breakers. Of course, Loparlo himself was keeping mum about which way he would vote.
For the lesser kindred, such political maneuverings were well beyond them and not of interest. Many of them, feeling the fear brought on by recent werewolf predations, were bringing their own petitions; not for childer, which was denied them, but for the creation of ghouls, both as companions and for protection. It was also rumoured that tonight would be the night that the fate of the Gangrel, Raphael, would be announced. Currently, Raphael was in torpor, having been shot up by Brujah ghouls when he attempted to rush the carousel. Speculation was running high. Anything from Raphael's public diablerization by Purdy to his adoption as a chylde by Happy were being voiced.
It being a Saturday night, the Boardwalk was open late. However, the need of the vampires for their privacy was paramount. Herds of kine were ushered out by security on the pretext of a bomb scare. The band on stage, "The Lonely Children", had been imported from Monterey to entertain the kindred and their ghoul escorts. As the lead singer, Caitlyn Jackson, was a local celebrity now residing in Santa Cruz, a number of kine were reluctant to leave. Little did these humans suspect that their idolized singer was one of the walking undead and that they were lingering in the midst of a crowd of hungry vampires. Another vampire led band, a sort of rival to the first one was going to play next - Amber Bateman's "Amber Chorus". Once the park had been emptied, these more stubborn kine were dominated or charmed into submission and all kindred were allowed to feed from them at their will. These kine posed a strange juxtaposition to the revelry going on around the carousel, the arcade and in front of the bandstand. Any stranger would have assumed they these people had swooned from too much drink or from drugs. How much darker and ultimately unbelievable was the truth.
While vampires amused themselves at the untended arcade games, the band finished up one of their darker and more cryptic songs, "Blood Feast." All voices grew silent as Prince Happy appeared, not on the carousel, which was reserved for primogen meetings, but on the stage. "The Lonely Children" were packed off to other parts while their singer joined the crowd of vampires. Behind the Prince, squads of Brujah "Security Guard" ghouls patroled the beach in jeeps, to ensure that the meeting was private.
"Ah, mes enfants. How beautiful you all are. I have good news for you all. The times of strife, they are over." The crowd paused waiting for the Prince to continue, but he seemed distracted, gazing at some distant point in the sky. Everyone could see that Happy was wearing the Byzantine amulet taken from the Sabbat agent, who had met his final death at the hands of the Brujah after being interrogated.
Crown affected a cough while standing offstage. Happy looked over at the Ventrue with glassy eyes. "Ah yes, mon frere, Thomas, will now speak to you all."
A seat was provided for the Prince by a Brujah ghoul and Crown took the microphone.
"The first announcement that the Pr, that, um, he," Crown pointed at Happy, "wishes to make is that the restrictions on feeding are henceforward lifted for the duration of the summer months."
Murmers were heard amongst the small group of vampires. Several applauded. "However, during the leaner winter months of December through February, the restrictions on feeding will go back in place."
"For the time being, you may feed at will. You are required to clean up after yourselves and make sure that you choose your vessels wisely. You are to dispose of any kills made and destroy the remaining waste. Any vampire not adhering religiously to this will be staked and disposed of. Any vampire who drinks dry improper vessels, whose disappearance will threaten the Masquerade, will likewise meet their final ends."
"And I want to point out that though we are lifting the restriction of taking the life of unwanted and unmissed vessels, you are to show discretion. Certainly, no one but those on the Primogen Council will be allowed to take more than one life per month. Anyone violating this will be treated as having violated Caine's law, in the form of the First Tradition."
"You can all thank my money for this. Thanks to extensive tourist advertising in many North American and Asian cities, and a blanketing of European areas through my contacts there," Crown nodded to Mira Giovanni, who returned his acknowledgement, "we can be assured of a steady stream of tourists far in excess of what we will need."
There was more applause, none of it from the Brujah.
"Now another point. Not that I'm encouraging that all of you drink your vessels dry, but now and then, I think it's a good practice for us all to engage in. Besides the sweet savouring of drinking a life, many of you are showing unnecessary attachments to your former humanity. This is of concern to many of us. Remember that we are a higher form of life, created by Caine to cull and keep in check the vast herds of kine. Aside from your ghouls, no one of us should consider any of these kine of any importance. Any kine who is worth anything will ultimately be embraced, or at least given the option. But these are few. The rest are food for the Gods."
"I'll now turn you back to theum, him." Crown handed the mike back to Happy.
"Thank you, mon frere for that inspiring bit of speaking. I'm sure I say with you all how you much your words make us feel a certain way," Happy nodded. There were some chuckles from the crowd. "Let us all give a round of applause to Monsieur Cr, Crhim," Happy said pointing at Crown while smiling. There was a round of laughter and applause, but little of it for Crown. The few remaining Brujah and their ghouls were particularly vociferous with cheers and a few undisguised invectives for Crown.
"Mais mes enfants, the dryness time, it is over. You may drink your fill of the bounty of Caine."
There was more applause.
"Now, I wish to announce something more. The appointment of Monsieur Loparlo as acting primogen for his clan, les Nosferats."
"I protest!" Crown voiced. "Loparlo's appointment was supposed to be addressed AFTER another matter - by the entire Primogen Council!"
"Ah, it seems that I have the ballots here," Happy said, pulling out some envelopes from his colourful balloon pants, "of les Primogens Brujah, Gangrel et Toreador. They all have said, oui, which makes it certain. You can vote, non, if you wish, but it will make not a differance. And it would be so cruel to Monsieur Loparlo to say he is on the council and not to vote this evening because he was made a Primogen late, non?"
Having been outmaneuvered, Crown sank back into his chair and continued to sulk.
"The last thing I must tell you is of the fate of Raphael because I know you are all near your final deaths of curiosity if I don't tell you soon. Because he has helped to save us from the Sabbat antitribu, I have pardoned him for his crimes of the taking the unlife of the Bruzjhah, Lopez, the killing of Bruzjhah ghouls, and the creating of his chylde, for which he has paid most dearly indeed. But, bowing to the wishes of our primogen," Happy nodded to both Crown and Purdy, "who are for once in agreement, Raphael will be banished upon his recovery, upon pain of final death should he come back here again."
"Now, mes enfants, continue to dance and sing and enjoy yourselves. We of the council have matters to discuss; but you may go about your way. I will hear your petitions after the council session, when you come to tell me your stories. I tell you all that I will have a most special prize for the one who gives me the best bedtime story." Happy, followed by the rest of the primogen, Loparlo among them, retired to the carousel, which was soon sent whirling, it's music loud enough to drown out any sound of what they were saying. Still, despite the gravity of the meeting, it was hard to take it seriously, which is perhaps what Happy intended, as all the participants save Crown, who always chose to stand, were seated on colourful carousel horses, whirling in the mirroured lights of an insane Prince's court. The kindred broke up, waiting their turn to tell their stories and then be heard by the Prince. Amber Bateman's clear crystal voice cut the night, drawing all undead ears away from the mad carousel and towards her pure gift.
Sunday June 18th 1995 00:04am
The song ended with a lilting note rather than a crescendo and Caitlyn had to admit that Amber had a superb voice. The style of music was perhaps not to her choice but she could not fault the execution. As the applause swept over Amber - the songstress obviously revelling in it - Caitlyn made her way towards the stage, deliberately trying to catch Amber's eye in doing so.
{If Amber sees her, Caitlyn will mouth a joking "challenge" to her, suggesting they try a duet. If Amber tried to ignore her, she will loudly voice to anyone nearby that Amber has a pretty good voice that might well grow into a good one with practice. Again, this is done only semi-seriously; the objective is not to offend Amber, but to gain her attention and get up on stage with her. Once up there, the real aim is to sing with her, not in a competitive manner of "anything you can do, I can do better", but almost in an attempt to win Amber - and any doubters in the crowd - over. I'm not sure of the best sort of song to aim at, but if you've ever heard "Le Morte Dans Sant" by Magnum (a ballad concerning the dead, dying and executed of WWI) then you'll have an idea of what I'm looking for. A moving ballard that will allow Amber the lower sonorous end of things while Caitlyn goes for the more energetic top end of the scale.}
Caitlyn called out to Amber, suggesting that the two of them should try a duet. Two Toreador vampires, Miryam and Opium, started to clap their hands, approving of the suggestion. Other kindred drew near.
Amber gazed down at Caitlyn with an obvious derision.
Not to be said no to, Caitlyn called out again in a voice loud enough for several kindred to hear her. She suggested that Amber had a pretty good voice that might well grow into a good one with practice. (Manipulation + Empathy = 2 successes)
Amber froze as if struck. Turning, she offered Caitlyn a thin smile, motioning for the Brujah to ascend the stage.
"Sorry about the baiting," Caitlyn apologized. "I just wanted to get your attention."
"Which you have," Amber said coolly.
Caitlyn cleared her throat. "Do you know 'Le Morte Dans Sant' by Magnum?"
As the song began, Caitlyn felt her nerves kick away in her stomach for the first time is as long as she dared think back. In fact, not since she had been kine had this happened to her and it was not a sensation that was altogether unpleasant. With a wry smile towards Amber, she watched the blonde kindred begin her part of the song while trying to draw the gaze of the crowd towards herself as she pulled off her leather jacket and tossed it over the microphone stand. When her refrain came, Caitlyn let rip with what she hoped would be one of the best performances of her unlife. {To the extent of burning blood if necessary - this is Caitlyn really going for it!}
Suddenly, Amber shifted her notes. It was a subtle manipulation, and perhaps only one which Caitlyn, maybe some of the Toreador, would notice. In reality, she was varying the song, not in a bad way, but in such a fashion which made it harder for Caitlyn to follow along with any sense of harmony. The complex pattern of the shift left Caitlyn sounding flat. Struggling to follow Amber's pattern, Caitlyn felt control of the song shifting away from her. She was forced to at least try and follow what Amber's variation, which by its innovativeness, had become the focal piece of the song. (Manipulation + Music = 0 successes.) Her own ears and a few quick glances told her that she was going flat.
Caitlyn made a bid to retake to song. (Manipulation + Music = 1 success + 1 willpower = 2 successes). Amber, surprisingly, let go and instead easily shifted her voice to match Caitlyn's new pattern seemlessly, as if it were always her intention. The two of them blended together in a dreamy duet that left their breathless audience feeling almost alive. The ghouls were enraptured and even the jaded ears of the elder undead turned to hear the music.
As the drums and guitars thudded and twanged their way to a faded end, Caitlyn took Amber's hand in hers and lifted it high into the air, the two of them milking the applause for all they were worth and getting the very last ounce of adulation from the gathered Kindred. Many of those here might have their doubts about Amber and her background, but Caitlyn wanted that blown away for tonight at least, and wanted to make sure Amber knew that was what she was doing.
As the two stepped back from the edge of the stage, Caitlyn dizzy from the thinning blood in her veins, she looked against at Amber. "They love us here! You can keep your words and your "sweet savouring of drinking a life", as that bastard Crown puts it, this is the real rush; this is what it's all about, huh?" she shouted.
{Watch Amber's reaction, throw as much of my empathy at her as I can, particularly when mentioning drinking a vessel dry. Many still seem to think her an Anarch spy, and if she is the sort of person to regard this as the greatest pleasure in the world, then perhaps there might be something in it? Whatever the case, this whole exercise is aimed at trying to get a bit closer to Amber, not pushing her away.}
(Manipulation + Empathy = 5 successes).
Amber gave Caitlyn no clue about her feelings regarding the drinking of lives, but she did seem to warm to Caitlyn, giving Caitlyn's hand a firm squeeze.
"Your voice has potential" Amber told Caitlyn. "But it needs some polish. We should meet sometime. I think I can help you."
Though it was a rather judgemental statement (Perception + Empathy = 4 successes.) Caitlyn understood that Amber was offering friendshop. She smiled and sqeezed Amber's hand in return.
"Yes, let's do that," she agreed.
After Caitlyn and Amber had calmed down a little, Caitlyn strolled around the Boardwalk to try and find Raphael. She had to admit to feeling a little disappointed at his banishment, but knew that it was probably for the best. She had paid her debts to him and now she just wanted to say her goodbyes before he left. {JON - Any chance I get to talk with Raphael, let me know and we'll do it through Dialogue.}
Spotting Chewy, she asked about Raphael. She noted Chewy's face had a lot of unhealed scars on it that hadn't been there before. Purdy hadn't been forgiving about the Sabbat spy's death.
"That lick's clean under," Chewy told her. "Who knows when he'll be out of torpor, but if it'll make you feel better, I'll give you a ring and make sure he knows you were asking."
The voice of the Prince broke over the chatter of the gathered Kindred, and he called for the telling of stories to begin. Caitlyn had hers ready, and she felt it was just the sort of thing that the Prince might find amusing as well as touching. As her time came around she stepped up onto the edge of the carousel and began.
"There are those that are embraced and receive the greatest of gifts, and then there are those that die. We are the chosen, the higher form of life, but in escaping death we miss out on one of the high points of human life - the passing into death. For it is only then that we get to hear the voices of the angels, the songs that make any sound we can make appear little better than the yapping of dogs. Do you know where that sound comes from?", she began. When the murmured response came back, Caitlyn used all her stage presence to whip them into her palm again.
"I SAID, DO YOU KNOW WHERE THAT SOUND COMES FROM?"
This time the response was much better, much more attentive. "Right, that's better. Okay, I'll let you in on the story of just why angels sing..."
WHY ANGELS SING...
In a faraway land of ages past there lived an ordinary man and woman - Kyle and Dania - who had little about them to mark them out as anything but just another man and woman amongst thousands of others. The, like many more, had a large family of five sons, all of whom were almost grown to manhood as the time of war moved closer.
Kyle was a powerful man, and though his craft was but a simply farmer, his sons had all acquired his health and strength, and the sharp wit of his shrewd wife, Dania. And each son had talents which were unique within their family, and which certainly would be an asset to their King if he needed such men for his campaign.
Daric was the eldest son, standing several inches above the height of his father and as broad across the shoulders as the very doorway. He had turned his interest away from the plough at an early age, and was now a swordsman of prodigious skills. From the quickest, nimblest of rapiers through the mighty broadsword, Daric was more than a match for any that dared stand before him.
His brother Vanyar was next in line, and his talent lie with the bow. Not for him the clumsy crossbows that were the fashion of the military nowadays, but the longbow; a weapons requiring both great strength and precision. Vanyar could hit targets that few others might even be able to see, he could take birds out of the air as they flew by and shoot a leaf from the branch of a tree over a hundred yards distant.
Toric was the middle brother and his affinity with animals had made him a magnificent horseman. There was not a steed in the land that he could not sit astride and have do his bidding, not a stubborn, unbroken colt alive that would not yield to his touch. The most broken-down of nags would suddenly find the speed of a champion racehorse when Toric rode it.
The smallest and brightest of the brothers was Aldfelt, much more the product of his mother than his father. Leaner but no less well built than his siblings, Aldfelt's true power lie in his quickness of thought and deed. He could see thing and react to them faster than most men were even aware of them, and his ability to take control and command others was readily apparent. Few doubted that Aldfelt would become on of the leading tactical masters should the King find himself in need of Generals.
Of all his sons it was Cathal that was the greatest disappointment to his father, and as he was the youngest, he found the favour of his mother more readily than the others. Cathal's skills were less measurable than his brothers for though he had the intelligence of his mother, he had little love for things of a martial nature. The world around Cathal seemed filled with wonders, and he could spend hours gazing upon the petals of a flower or the silverspun web of a common spider. His greatest ability was to put these magical feelings into words, and it was his poetry and songs that made him notable. When he lifted up his voice and sang the ballads of youth, those who would listen found their heart skip and tears of joy flood their eyes.
"Songs?", Kyle bellowed when his tempers frayed the most, "Of all the most useless of things in this world, a minstrel must be the greatest!" While the other brothers chuckled and joined in the scorn, Cathal sought solace alone and refused to be cowed. He loved his family with his whole heart, but he was sensitive enough to be hurt by their mockery.
A year passed and as the sons grew a year older a messenger came from the King; the country was at war and all able young me were to be drafted into the army. For Daric, Vanyar, Toric and Aldfelt the call could not have come soon enough, but Cathal had been dreading it. As the drums beat and the men marched off to war, Cathal hid himself away in the barn and waited until they had left.
When Kyle heard of Cathal's cowardice there was no stopping his rage. After the breaking of pots and crocks and the upturning of tables, he threw his youngest son out of the family home despite the pleas of his wife, and told him not to return until his deeds could match that of his brothers. Cathal, his eyes blinded by tears, grabbed his few possessions and ran as fast as he could away from his only home.
Months of wandering and feeding himself by begging or singing for his supper eventually led Cathal towards the front, where the King's army was fighting a steadily losing battle against. Word came to him that the two sides were to clash in a nearby vale, and from the descriptions of some of the champions and heros of the campaign so far, he knew that his brothers still lived. Fighting to get the better of his fear, Cathal headed for the valley, keen to be reunited with his brothers once more, for he never knew if he might lay eyes on them again.
Days later Cathal reached the valley and as he crested the hill he looked down upon a scene of such carnage and ruin that sorrow almost drowned him. Thousands upon thousand lay dead there, men of both countries it seemed, but many more wore the colours of his own King than did not.
With trepidation Cathal began to comb the corpses for signs of his brothers, and after many hours of searching he found each and every one of them, all with the life torn from them. Sobs whacked Cathal's body and salty tears burned his eyes as he wept for his lost kin, and so deep was he in his grief that he never saw the dark ghostly figure of death wending his way across the battlefield. Where the dark robed figure walked, shadowy figures rose from the fallen and stepped in line behind him, a silent flock following a determined shepherd.
As the Grim Reaper stopped before Cathal, his long-handled scythe leant upon the bloodsoaked ground, he looked down upon the crying youth and spoke. "I am not here for you, boy, but for those that lie around you. Weep not for them for it was their time, but you have many years before you yet."
Cathal looked up into the hollow sockets of Death's eyes and felt his spirit chill. Fear alone could not quell his grief though, and as the tears continued to roll down his cheeks he looked back to body of his brothers. "They all had their lives before them too until this senseless war took them away. If I could take their place, I would not hesitate to do so", he said.
Death seemed to chuckle to himself, a cold, grating sound that clutched at Cathal's heart. "Their time is past now and they must come with me. Each has tried his talents and has failed and now they are to stand in my halls. Why would you think that I would have need of you over them? What skills do you have that would be of use to the halls of the dead?"
Cathal looked up once more and felt his own courage grow as he realised that Death himself was listening to him. "I can sing. I might not be able to wield a sword like Daric, to shoot like Vanyar, ride like Toric or plan like Aldfelt, but I can stir the hearts of those who would listen. I can sweep away fear or pain with words, can turn sadness to joy or frivolity to contemplation. I can tell of things that human eyes could never see - my talents are no less than theirs, for all they might differ. If you can find a use for these skills then take me and leave them here in this world." Death, though without expression, seemed to be thinking on Cathal's pledge and with a nod he indicated that Cathal should prove his worth.
The song Cathal brought forth was the greatest he ever gave voice to. His words would have warmed the dead themselves if they could listen and Death himself seemed pleased to hear it. As the strains echoed their way around the damned valley, and Cathal let the refrain drift off to an end. He then sat back and waited for the decision.
"Boy", began Death, "would you be willing to give up your life here and follow me? Would you be able to walk with the dead, to use your voice to comfort them as they pass from the world they know and into my own realm? Could you use your voice to provide them with the light they will need to follow if they are to greet death with open arms?"
Cathal knew that his answer would determine his fate, but for the first time in his life, he knew that such a momentous choice was his to make freely and he felt no fear. "If you would pass over my brothers this day and take me instead, I will walk by your side for eternity and give what solace I can to those who have reached the end of their time."
Death nodded his agreement and with an icy touch upon Cathal's forehead, he took the youth away from life and into his own realm. The brothers all awoke from their wounds some time later, rising to stare at each other in wonder as they looked about them at the piles of dead. How they had survived they would never know, but for years later they talked of how they had heard the voices of angels singing to them, and were sure that they would die.
If you ask any man alive who has suffered the same fate as they did, and yet has somehow lived on through is ordeal, each will tell you the same. The angels have songs that would burst the heart of those who listen, such is their sweetness and melody, and each would have felt the urge to slip away into the forgiving darkness and accept what death might bring. But they, like Daric, Vanyar, Toric and Aldfelt, would never know that it was Cathal they had heard, and that they would hear him once more before their time on this world came to an end.
Sunday, June 18th, 1995 12:16 a.m.
There was polite applause from the audience.
"The twit actually thinks WE want to hear the Malkavian's stories?" Crown scoffed, walking away.
Caitlyn felt the blood burning in her body. She was beginning to see black as the Beast came upon her. (Willpower = 4 successes).
"Belle," came the Prince's loud whisper, helping to calm her by it's distraction. "You are a treasure, ma chere. I accept your beautiful story. I tell you, it is one of the finest I have heard. You have set quite a standard that will be hard for the others to follow," Happy said, gazing at the assembled crowd of petitioners.
"Come, sit by my side. I will hear your word on whose is the finest story beside yours. You will judge the others - even that of Monsieur Crown."
"What! I'm a primogen! That chylde has no right to sit in any sort of judgement over me, even it's for some stupid lunatics driveling whim."
The crowd went silent. Crown looked around. Even he seemed to sense that he had perhaps gone too far. His ghouls, sensing the danger, tried to approach him but they were cut off by Brujah thugs. It was starting to look ugly.
"You defy me Monsieur?" the Prince asked in a calm and curious voice.
Happy thumped his cane on the carousel. Purdy appeared with three more ghouls, wiping his hands together eagerly. His smile showed some ferocious canines.
"Problem?" he asked.
Crown looked around. No one came forward for any support. Even the Giovanni turned her eyes away.
"Uh, I apologize to the, uh, you, um, Prince Happy. I was, um, just jesting. Truly. I am very happy to have whoever you should choose judge my unworthy tale." He gave a sort of nod to Caitlyn that still managed to have a sort of derision about it. He obviously couldn't help it.
"Ah," the Prince beamed. "I could not imagine a finer bit of fiction coming from your dead lips, mon frere. I think no tale could tell could best zis one. Alas, I cannot give you the prize, but you are forgiven. I am sorry, Monsieur," Happy said to Perdicas. "Perhaps another time?"
Turning back to Crown. "You are tired, mon frere. You will go home now. Give my lady my regards. And then thank her for ze gift of your unlife tonight."
Crown started to say something then caught himself. Quietly, he gathered his ghouls and left.
Purdy chuckled and after watching Crown slip away towards his waiting Rolls, intending to be driven the three blocks to his mansion, the Brujah primogen disappeared back into the crowd.
"Merci," Happy said to Caitlyn, suddenly dismissing her. The Ventrue, Diane Forester, got up next.
Caitlyn wandered around for the rest of the night, while Happy heard his supplicants. Then, about two hours before dawn, Happy announced that court was done. Everyone should return at Midnight of the 25th to learn who the winner would be and what prize was announced. The crowd, escorted by the ghouls, were taken back to the vicinity of their crypts. Just then, it dawned on Caitlyn that she didn't have a home. Looking at Purdy, she decided against asking to stay at the Boardwalk. He was still in an ugly mood, as the scars on Chewy had testified. She had some quick thinking to do.
Sunday, July 9th, 1995 9:31 p.m.
Caitlyn had fallen into an unwholesome malaise - recent events and the generally ominous air had left her contemplating her own existence, and she was quickly realising that "life" as one of the undead was not all that it was cracked up to be!
Raphael's predicament had been the start of her mindset. Here was a creature that had a noble heart and good intentions - why else would he have bothered to save a Brujah he didn't know from death, putting himself at risk - and yet he was now in torpor. When he did finally recover he would be banished from Santa Cruz and be forced into the same predicament he faced when he left Monterey. Was this the sort of fate that perhaps might be in store for her?
Her current standing with the Brujah was also far from ideal too. Purdy was not happy that she had tried to cut Raphael as much slack as she had, and in his current mood, anything that was not to his liking was a very bad thing to do. Chewy had felt his anger and Caitlyn had no wish to do the same. Staying away from the Brujah was not such a bad thing at the moment.
Caitlyn had ventured from her crypt only to feed over the last week or so, sitting and broody throughout the night, staring out of the window at the twinkling lights the kine hid beneath as they tried to keep the dark at bay. She had heard that there would be a fireworks display within a day or two, celebrating the American holiday that one or two of her kind would certainly recall with a much more vivid view than anyone in this town. With a growing strength of will, Caitlyn realised that sitting around moping her way through her thoughts was not healthy. To push aside this lethargy she made a conscious effort to ensure she was fully fit and fully fed and in attendance at this festival. Perhaps it was time she got her "life" ticking over again?
Pulling on her boots and her jacket, Caitlyn leapt down the stairs of her abandoned home and charged out of the door. As she turned the keys in the ignition of the Harley and felt the engine roar to life, her spirit returned in similar measure. Time to show Santa Cruz that at least one Brujah was still up and ready to take on whatever was coming!
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