Character Sheet: Victor Kirby Appearance Prelude Journal Entries:
Name: Victor Kirby Player: Erik Sahlee Status: N.P.C. (player removed) Chronicle: Santa Cruz/Mortal Nature: Judge Demeanor: Optimist Residence: Safe House Motive: Method: Concept: Gambler ATTRIBUTES: Physical: Strength-2, Dexterity-3, Stamina-2 Social: Charisma-2, Manipulation-2, Appearance-2 Mental: Perception-3, Intelligence-3, Wits-3 ABILITIES: Talents: Alertness-2, Athletics-1, Brawl-2, Dodge-3, Empathy-1, Intimidation-1, Streetwise-2 Skills: Drive-2, Firearms-2, Music-1, Stealth-2 Knowledge: Computer-1, Linguistics-1, Occult-2 ADVANTAGES: Numina & Other Traits: Backgrounds: Ally-1, Contacts-2, Resources-5 Merits & Flaws: Faith-0 Humanity-6 Willpower-9 VIRTUES: Conscience-2 Self-Control-2 Courage-3 Appearance: Victor has short black hair, blue eyes, weighs about 81 kg. and has a height of 192 cm. He is often perceived as intelligent and witty, though he isn't especially witty. Prelude: (to be added later) Thursday June 1st, 1995 11:23 a.m. Victor was surprised when a young woman opened the door instead of Professor Poincairé. Victor looked back at his note that he had scribbled down at the airport. Perhaps he had written down the wrong address, he thought. "Uh, I'm looking for a George Poincairé," he told the woman. "Do I have the right address?" "You must be Victor," she answered dryly. "Come in." She stood aside so that he could enter. Victor looked around the foyer, noting the Grandfather clock, overstuffed furniture and the musty odor of numerous cats, two of which eyed him languidly from a distance. The place seemed very much like a professor's house. Looking over at the young woman, he could see she seemed to be staring at him. She didn't seem to be embarrassed about looking him over, and she made no attempt to offer him anything or to invite him to be comfortable. "Is the Professor home?," he finally decided to ask. The young woman didn't answer right away, but continued to glare at Victor, as if sizing him up. Finally, she said, "He's at the Red Cross. He'll be back later." Still, she just stood there, staring at him. Victor looked down at his suitcase, but she ignored the hint. Finally, he said, "Is there anyplace I can put this?" "Your room is upstairs. Turn left and it's the last room on the right at the end of the hall." Victor nodded. "If you'll excuse me" he told her. She didn't answer but continued to stare at him as he walked up the stair. Thursday June 1st 11:43 a.m. Having changed into a short sleeve shirt and loose fitting slacks, Victor bounced back down the stairway. A Brahms trio could be heard emanating from a room farther inside the house, so seeing no other evidence of life, Victor made his way there as a start to his exploration of the house. He knew that his uncle had acquired a apartment for him, but until his furniture arrived, he had decided that he might as well shack up at the Professor's. But something about Mr. Poincaire's other guest put him off and he was thinking about staying at a hotel for the interim. The woman he had been thinking about was seated in a plush grey overstuffed chair, absently petting a long haired black cat and listening to the music. The cat turned to view Victor with its eerie green eyes, but other than swishing its tail, did nothing but continue to watch him. The woman seemed lost in thought and at first didn't seem to see him. When she did finally notice him, she seemed to be startled somewhat. "Oh, its you she said," absently brushing her long black hair back. It fell down like a black silk waterfall, contrasting sharply with her ivory features. She offered no other comment, but after a while, her thoughts seemed to come back into the world and she turned to stare once again at Victor. "Well, you know my name," Victor offered a smile, which he felt must seem pretty wooden. "You have me at a disadvantage. Your name is?" "You're very polite," she said, ignoring his question. "I really wonder if you have got what it takes." Victor shook his head. "You've lost me," he told her. "What it takes to do what?" She smiled. Victor thought it was a very cruel smile. Despite the fact that the woman was very pretty, he found that her smile seemed to unsettle him more, especially coupled with the pained angry look she had in her eyes. Still she didn't answer him. "To do what?" he prompted her, "Ms.?" "Kill Vampires," she answered. It wasn't the answer he'd expected, though he thought he should have seen it coming. "Kill them, drive a stake though their hearts, cut off their heads and sew their mouths with salt and garlic? Could you do those things?" she asked him, her voice making it almost seem like a challenge. "Yes," he answered hoarsely. "Yes, I could." She smiled that smile again and Victor looked at his watch, wishing that the Professor would get back. "My name is Patti Nakahara," she finally told him. "I'm one of the S.A.V.E. members here locally. There were four of us," she told him. "Excuse me, there ARE four of us, now that you're here." As she said this, her voice seemed to mock him. "Excuse me," Victor asked her, "But I can't help get the feeling that you don't think me capable of doing what you've asked. It seems that you seem to doubt me altogether." Saying it, his blood rose, as he voiced his concerns, challenging her to answer. She sneered at him. "Laying our cards on the table, are we?" She nodded. "Alright, yea, I don't think you're the type to cut the mustard. You look like some fancy rich boy who'll run at the first sign of trouble - the type who'll cut out and leave us in the jam, ready to have his throat cut - or worse." "Look," Victor told her. "I know I'm untested. But I have very strong convictions, for reasons you don't even know. So, please lay off the crap! If it comes to a fight, I'll be there. I can take it," he told her firmly. "Prove it!" she demanded, glaring at him with what seemed like hatred. Victor just shrugged. "How?" Patti got up from her chair and walked past him, her hair straight coarse hair brushing Victor's face. Turning back, she told him, "Follow me." Thursday, June 1st 12:10 p.m. Patti led Victor down the stone steps into the basement. Smells of old oil and musty dampness were what he first noticed, then Patti turned on the lights and Victor could see that the basement of the old building behind the main house must have been once used as an ice house, for the old days of the last century, before they had electricity. The most curious thing about the room was the the concrete wall dominating one end. A large steel door with an electronic lock was set square in the middle of this wall. "This room is nearly soundproof," Patti told him, leading him to the wall at the far end. Victor looked about, noting motorbikes and crates jammed against one end while on the other wall were various tools hung up on pegboard. Patti walked up to the electronic lock and began punching in a series of numbers. There was a series of clicks and a sound of venting gas, or air. Then, Patti pulled on the door and it opened. She paused at the entrance and motioned for him to continue. "What's in there?" Victor asked, unwilling to enter. She sneered at him. "Afraid of the dark? You'll never be one of us," she told him. Defiantly, Victor strode into the dark room, light from the doorway his only illumination. Patti threw a bundle at his feet. He heard something move in the far corner, but before his eyes could adjust, the door slammed shut behind him. He was lost in blackness and panic at once gripped him. Especially as the source of the noise seemed to approach him. Light flooded the room and Victor's eyes were blinded by its sudden appearance. "Uh," he covered his eyes and backed away toward the wall. He just about jumped from his skin when cold hands laid themselves on his own and pulled his hands from his face. "Ahh!" he screamed, but then with wild eyes, regarded his supposed monster and was embarrassed to find it was only another person, like himself. "Are you alright?" she asked him. Victor nodded. The other person was another young woman, this one with short brown hair and incredibly blue eyes. She was dressed in loose chi pants and wore a white bodice tied up the front with string. She was remarkably beautiful and she was the last thing Victor had expected to see in that place. "What's your name?" she asked. He told her. She smiled. Her teeth were perfect white. "My name is Louise. Louise Hemingway." Victor looked around the room. He noted now that there was a bed in the far corner, a chair, table, bookshelf with books and a television, which was turned off. "You live here?" he asked her. She nodded. "Not willingly," she admitted. For some reason, the obvious questions left him and Victor instead asked, "Hemingway? Are you related to the writer?" She smiled and nodded. "Distantly, yes." Looking at the locked door, she led him away from it. "Why are you here?" she asked him, her face seeming to be concerned. Victor shrugged. "I was tricked into coming here," he admitted. "Some sort of perverted test. What about you?" Louise's face seemed to grow sadder. "I'm a prisoner." "What!" Victor was shocked. "You mean you're being held here against your will?" Victor found that he was growing angry. He decided that whatever was going on, his uncle would hear about it. This Professor Poincairé and that Nakahara woman would have a lot of explaining to do." Louise laid a hand on Victor's neck. Her nostrils flared and Victor, gazing into her eyes, felt a decided thrill as her cold hands touched his flesh. Then he noticed how cold it was in the room. "You must be freezing," he exclaimed, unable to believe the cruelty of keeping this woman confined in that place. "Victor," she told him, "You have to get out of here. You have to get out of here right away." Though he certainly wanted to get out of there, the urgency in Louise's voice puzzled him. "Why?" he asked her. It was Patti's voice that answered him, coming on over a series of speakers set into the ceiling. "Kirby! I cannot believe what an imbecile you are! Don't you know what it is?!" Victor looked back at Louise. Then the meaning of Patti's words dawned on him. "Oh, my God!" he exclaimed, backing up. Louise, a pained expression on her face, looked away. She seemed to be sobbing. "Use the things in the bag!," Patti's voice yelled over the speakers. "Use them! It's weak from lack of blood. You should have no problem. Use them!" Victor looked up and then he saw the cameras in each of the corners of the room. As he reached down for the sack that Patti had tossed in after him, he could see the cameras moving, tracking him and Louise. Inside the bag was a stake and hammer, a saw, garlic, a bag of salt and a pouch containing needle and thread. There was also a silver crucifix. Seeing the stake, Louise began to sob, but no tears came out of her. Shuddering, she sank to her knees, in a weak manner of supplication. "Don't kill me," she pleaded. "Please, I don't want to die." "It's already dead!" Patti's voice insisted. "You have to do it, Kirby! If you want to be a member of S.A.V.E, you have to do this." Victor reached into the bag and pulled out the hammer, stake and crucifix. Louise, seeing him, pulled at her hair and shook her head, as if unable to believe what was happening. Then, crawling and whimpering, she prostrated herself at his feet. "Please," she begged him. "Oh please don't do this." Victor backed away from her, his senses reeling. What is going on?, he thought. This is insane. "Do it Kirby!" Nakahara's voice shrieked at him. "Damn it! I knew you were a weakling fool!" "SHUT UP! SHUT UP!" Victor screamed back at the speakers. "JUST SHUT UP!" "If you don't have the guts to destroy the evil that you see," Nakahara told him, "then you must die by that evil. Either that or defend yourself." Then the lights went out. Thursday, June 1st 3:35 p.m. Despite Patti Nakahara's predictions, neither Victor nor the vampire, Louise, made any move towards the other. In a tense truce, Victor eventually found himself sitting in the chair while Louise sat cross legged on her bed. Flickering light from the television illuminated the both of them. The sound of the T.V. had been turned off. Louise, finally trusting that Victor wasn't going to drive the stake through her heart, proceeded to tell him her story. She had only been a vampire for less than three months. Her parents were still living and thought that she was still attending classes at San Jose State, where she had been majoring in biology, intending to attend Veterinary school after graduation. She had been "embraced," as she called it, when she had accepted a proposal from a wild biker, who had seen her at a bar in downtown San Jose. Having just broken up with her boyfriend, she had shocked her own friends by accepting this biker's invitation to go for a ride. She had been scared, but thrilled at the same time, thinking that through a bit of wild sex, she might forget some of her own emotional pain and prove to herself that she was truly over her cheating boyfriend. Instead, she got much more than she had bargained for and when the biker revealed himself, had she tried to fight him off. He took her forcefully, dumping her in a cave and telling her a little bit about what she had become. She didn't believe him at first, but then one taste of sunlight convinced her of the horrour of that truth. For the last few months, Louise told Victor that she had been living off of stray animals and drunk or drugged out homeless. In fact, after feeding off of one passed out drug user, she had come under some of the effects of the drug and had passed out as well. That was how the Professor had found her and managed to take her captive so easily. She thought that the Professor was using her to learn about vampires. In fact, he had told her, Louise said, that as long as she cooperated, he wouldn't harm her. In fact, he was supposedly out trying to find her blood to feed from. "I never killed anyone," she told Victor. "I just wanted a chance to get on with my life. I didn't ask for this," she told him. Victor nodded, thinking that his life had certainly gotten more complex of late. He was nagged by the thought, and he tried to deny it, that he really liked Louise and had things been different, he would have liked to get to know more of her. He had led a lonely life, and maybe because of what had happened to her and how it had changed her, but it was like Louise was someone who he felt he had a connection with. When these thoughts came up, he tried to distance them, but they always came back. He couldn't help thinking she was the most precious and lovely thing he had ever seen and her voice seemed like music to him. Both of them were startled, when the floor of the room shuddered and then, after a sound like a distant squeal, the roof of the room started to slide back, exposing the room to the daylight outside. Louise screamed and jumped off of the bed, running for the dark side of the room. Blue sky, heat and sunlight poured down into the room, drawing a line of light as the roof continued to pull back. The shaded part of the room was quickly shrinking. "What are you doing?" Victor screamed. Looking around, he pulled a blanket off of the bed and tried to shield Louise from the sun. A fleeting thought reminded him of the irony of what he was doing. After all, wasn't he supposed to be a vampire hunter? "Oh, Victor, why are they doing this? I won't hurt anyone. Can't they just leave me alone?" "Don't worry," Victor told her. "I'll stop them." But he couldn't and as the roof vanished altogether, the efforts at shielding her from the sun proved fruitless. Her skin, crackling and burning, Louise held herself together with a miraculous self control to speak her last words to him. "Thank you, Victor," He lips began to burn away to bone and teeth, but her deep blue eyes still held him. "Go away now. Don't look at me," she managed to say with a mutilated face. But Victor wouldn't leave and gazed at her until the end. "I don't want to leave you," he told her. "I can't." Her unburned hand reached out from beneath the blanket and touched his face, then it erupted into a flame that though it burned her, did not harm him in the least, though he felt its heat. He held her as she fell to ashes in his arms. She was nothing, not even bone. The door to the room opened, and in rushed a tall slender man with grey hair and beard. "Oh, mon Dieu!," he exclaimed, staring with shocked grey eyes and an open mouth. In his hands, he held two plastic bags of whole blood. Thursday, June 1st 9:28 p.m. Professor Poincairé handed Victor a glass of sherry. Victor cupped sipped it and put it away. He stared into the empty fireplace, unused in the summer, imagining the flames that had once existed there. The Professor went on to explain. "After Patti's brother was killed, she began to become more agitated and hostile. I don't think she forgave herself for running away. She blames herself for his death." Victor made no comment but continued to stare quietly. The Professor shook his head. Merd, he thought. He had lost Patti. He had arranged for her to be picked up and taken to a sanitarium in Switzerland, run by a S.A.V.E. associate. Looking at Victor, he decided that he had probably lost young Kirby too. Victor's uncle would have to be told. It was a damn terrible mess," Poincairé decided. Victor raised his glass in a silent toast and after downing the sherry, tossed the glass into the fireplace. The expensive glass shattered irrevocably. "Too bad about the vampire," the Professor commented. "I really feel sorry for it. It's for people like it that we do this," he said, "so that others aren't made into the monsters." "Her name was Louise," Victor commented dryly. "Louise Hemingway." "I don't think it's a good idea to personalize it," the Professor stated. "They aren't human after all." Victor screamed and came after Poincairé. Not expecting it, the Professor toppled over in his chair to get away, but Victor was upon him in a second. "Damn You!" Victor screamed into his face, picking the Professor up by his shirt. "When you talk about her, use HER name you fucker! Her name was Louise Hemingway! SAY IT!" "Louise," the Professor said softly, his voice quavering with fear. "Alright Victor, I was wrong. She had a name and she died. I'm sorry," he said, trying to sound placating. Victor dumped him on the floor and then walked up the stairway. Once he had closed the door to his room, he began to cry. The Professor, hearing him downstairs, shook his head. Then he began to clean up, trying to sort out what he could salvage from the evening's events. Thursday June 1st 4.15 p.m. Victor stared out from his window thinking about the events today. "Is it always going to be like this in s.a.v.e.?" he thought "No, probably not. This was just a test to see how I will react, confronting creatures of the night". How could a vampire, like the one that killed his parents, make such an impression on him. It was probably using some occult power to twist his mind. Vic felt better as he considered his conclusion. Maybe it wasn't he that was weak, it was the vampire that was strong, but he couldn't understand why Patti wasn't affected by this mystic power. Still, he didn't like the way that Louise had been killed. But after all, every vampire must die, one way or another. It's us or them! "Hmmm, by the way" Vic thought "I hope that my furniture arrives soon so I don't have to live here anymore together with that psycho Patti". Thursday June 1st 4.33 p.m. After a cold shower Vic felt better and he went downstairs to apologize to the professor. He found him just the way he left him, sitting in front of the fireplace. Victor sat down in a chair beside him and explained his thoughts for him and apologized for his behaviour. The professor looked a little less worried. Now he doesn't have to confront Vic's uncle and he had recrutied yet another member. "So, is there any more of Louise kind here in Santa Cruz?" Victor asked. "I'm afraid so. We have made some research here for quite some time now and the facts speaks for itself". "Is there many? Why haven't you done anything about it?" Vic continued. "Anything about it?" Mr Poincaire yelled, "don't you realise what an effort it is to kill a vampire and get away with it. No, we have to work careful here. Plan every movement carefully and calculate every risk. You don't seem to understand how much research material Patti destroyed when she opened the roof in our prison. Anyway, I think you should get some rest now because I want you to do some sightseeing in the city tonight and you better not be sleepy then. And I think you should know that Vampires are not the only problem here in Santa Cruz " the Proffesor handed some books over to Victor. It was some of the research report about the undead activities in Santa Cruz. Victor hadn't expected that answer and was a little embarased when Poincaire told him how hard it was to kill a vampire, he should have figured that out by himself. He decided to go back to his room to get some rest and to study the books. Friday, June 2nd, 1995 5:43 p.m. Victor bowed, his head fogged over the numerous accounts and journal entries existent in the books the Professor had given him. Though some of the personal stories were engaging, even exhilarating given that he himself was possibly going to encounter such adventures, the vast bulk of anatomical and sociological conjecture left him dry and uninspired. Feeling that he had studied enough, he sheepishly went downstairs, hoping to search out the professor and learn a little about Santa Cruz and environs. As he left his room, Victor was careful to put a match at the top, to make sure that no one had entered his room while he was gone. Victor found the Professor working in his laboratory. Now that - she - was gone, Poincairé had started to turn the room back into his laboratory. Victor paused and then walked up to Poincairé, a little embarrassed about their earlier fracas. But despite Victor's misgivings, Poincairé smiled, seemingly genuine, at Victor's approach. "Hello Victor," the Professor smiled. "How did you sleep last night?" "I didn't really, not much anyway," Victor admitted. "What are you up to here?" he asked, nodding at the test tube the Professor was holding. Poincairé had been mixing what looked like dried powder with a clear liquid. Poincairé looked down at the test tube, scratching his beard. "This is the vampum, this is what is left of Louise Hemingway," he admitted frankly, though not without a sense of sadness. "Since she has left us, I'm analyzing her remains. I like to think of it as her helping us learn more about what she became." Victor nodded, feeling somewhat numb. He ignored the "Know your enemy" reference and stared at the test tube, noting the clay urn alongside. The grey ashy powder was nothing like his grandmother's ashes that he had seen as a child. They seemed more like scrapings from a fireplace and looking at them, he could see nothing in common with Louise and her blue eyes, which gripped his thoughts even at that moment. It seemed that the past twenty-four hours were a mere dream that had mistakenly intruded into real life. And like a waking dreamer, Victor stumbled through the hours of his life since then, his body awake but his mind still captured by something less real and sane and more captivating than any sane man dare admit to. "Where's Patti?" Victor asked. Poincairé went back to his work. "I suspect that she's onboard a plane, enroute to Geneva," he informed Victor while still going through the motions of the experiment. Though the Professor tried to give every indication that everything was normal and fine, Victor had the impression that Poincairé was listening and waiting to see how Victor handled seeing Louise's remains become mere ingredients of scientific study. "So, uh," Victor pressed his temples with his hands, trying to concentrate, trying to prove to the Professor that he was better. "Uh, Professor, so what were you saying earlier about Patti's brother?" "Doug?" Poincairé asked. "Actually, you're his replacement. We'll have to see if we can recruit or have S.A.V.E. send us a replacement for Patti." "How did Doug die?" Victor asked again, touching again on the subject that the Professor seemed to want to skirt aside from. "We were on the trail of a vampire living in a sea cave. It was daylight, so we thought we were safe but it seems, and this is borne out by my subsequent studies, that the older vampires don't always need to sleep in daytime, but only require darkness to exist. Doug & Patti were the first on the scene, having discovered the hidden entrance to the Vampire's crypt. Doug opened the vampire's coffin, hoping to stake him on the spot. It was foolishness really. He should have waited for me and Sam to get there. But, he was young and brash and having opened the coffin, he hoped to present us with a fait accompli." "He was trying to show off then?" Victor asked. "I suspect so," Poincairé nodded. "Anyway, the vampire wasn't in his coffin and Patti, apparently saw it approach Doug from behind but froze upon seeing her. This wasn't her fault and it can happen even to a veteran fighter of undead. Anyway, before we happened on the scene, the vampire had killed Doug and had feasted on the poor boy's blood, even as Patti watched, terrified and helpless. By the time we arrived, it had fled to some other cave. We rendered its coffin unusable and, with the help of S.A.V.E. members from Monterey and San Jose, we kept an eye on the cave, but I suspect that the vampire has long since fled, perhaps having left Santa Cruz altogether. They often will leave an area when they feel they have been exposed." "So Doug's death was never avenged?" Victor asked. The Professor fixed Victor was a hard look. "I don't like to think of what we do in the manner of a crusade, or use words like vengeance. I think it is best we proceed in a scientific and methodical manner. We need neither crusaders or heroes. I believe both types are more dangerous than useful, do I make myself clear, Victor?" Victor swallowed and nodded. Deciding to change the subject again, Victor asked. "Who is Sam?" "He's the other member of our group here in Santa Cruz. I should warn you that he's a little edgy since the death of Doug. You'll meet him in good time." "So, when am I going out with you, Professor?" Victor asked eagerly. Poincairé again fixed him with that hard look. "Remember Victor, no crusaders. We'll go out in time. Be grateful for the peace. I assure you there will come a time when you will wish for it's like again." Victor didn't say so, but he truly felt that that he had already reached that time. Watching the Professor spoon more of Louise's remains into a beaker and mix it with acid to judge the reaction, he felt he had to leave and quickly, without even saying goodbye, left the room where she had died. The Professor, calmly scientific, would have pointed out that she had been dead already, but Victor knew the truth. Friday, June 2nd 11:30 p.m. Victor walked out of the Red Room on Front Street. His ears were still vibrating from the loudness of the music from the club, but he couldn't remember much of his experience there. Still walking in a daze, he ignored the curious looks of some of the women checking him out and wandered over to the Metro Station, hoping to catch a bus for the Professor's house. He had thought about calling a cab, but decided to take a bus. He was in no hurry. Leaning back against the plexiglass display cases that exhibited the works of local school children along with general announcements, Victor allowed his eyes and mind to absently wander over the pictures and words presented. Blood rushing to his face, he nevertheless felt cold as he read one particular poster. Louise Hemingway, MISSING since March 27, 1995. Last seen, North Front Street San Jose. Height: 5'5", weight 105 lbs. Race: Caucasian, Hair: Brown, Eyes: Blue. Victor stared at the picture. Louise appeared in it, smiling. Pressing his temples again, Victor fought to control himself, but the feelings welling up in him demanded action. He didn't know if he had truly ever felt for her or if it were some remembrance of her unholy power, but he started to run and he didn't stop until he was back to the Professor's house again. Running upstairs, he passed the Professor on the landing without saying a word and ran into his room, the matchstick on the door dropping to the floor. Landing on the bed, he cried until exhaustion and lack of sleep overcame him. Then he drifted off to sleep, troubled only by dreams. Saturday, June 3rd, 11.45 a.m. Victor woke up screaming as he was in the middle of a nightmare. Confused, he looked around and he remebered where he was. Breakfast, was the first thing that came to his mind. He put on his clothes and went down to the kitchen. He found Poincare there, drinkning coffee and reading the newspaper "Did you sleep well?" the proffesot asked "As far as I remember, no". Suddenly the feelings frm yesterdays evening returned to Victor and he abrubtly sat down by the table leaning his head towards it, silenlty crying. Poincare tried to calm him "this is just a naturall reaction, you'll get better" "Listen mr" Vic yelled "don't you have any feelings at all? I saw a Louise's namne on poster over missing persons yesterday!" "So?" the professor asked. Vic couldn't control himself any more so he threw the chair to the floor and said in a very angry tone of voice to Poincare "You will bring her back to life with your scientific stuff you have in her room, DO IT! NOW!" He took a grip in Mr Poincare's shirt. The two men glared at each other. Something in the proffesor's look made Victor a littled scared and he let him go. "CONTROL yorself! We can't have members in s.a.v.e. that are behaving like this. Louise is dead and I'm as sorry as you are, but if you can't handle this fact than perhaps you don't belong with our organization. I thought you hated vampires but perhaps I was wrong" Victor was paralyzed as yet older memories got up to the surface. He remembered his mother, killed by vampire...Those monsters. But how can they both be monster and such captivating creatures as Louise? Victor rose the chaor and sat down. Leaning his head against his palms. "What am I going to do?" he asked. "You just need some rest and some peace and quite around. I won't mentioned that this ever happened and I will try to talk about Lousie as little as possible. You can visit me in the laboratory when you have finished your breakfast" The proffesor left the kitchen. Victor just sat and stared at the table. Saturday, June 3rd, 1995 12:00 noon Victor glanced through one of the local papers, the Santa Cruz Sentinel. It was mostly stuff pulled off the wire, but two prominent stories seemed concerned with the killings up at Henry Cowell State Park, and then continuing investigations by police, and now the F.B.I. over apparent serial killings in the county. Victor wondered if, somehow, S.A.V.E. had anything to do with the latter. Victor thought about asking the Professor, but decided against it. His relations with his S.A.V.E. superior had been strained recently and Victor didn't want to jeopardize his status in the organization. His recent - mishap - what should he call it? Trying hard not to think - about her - about anything, Victor went to the bathroom and took a shower. As the hot water ran down his skin, he turned up the temperature so that it was uncomfortably hot. Feeling the heat, he tried to focus his way past conscious thought into a state of being, but it wasn't working. Two haunting eyes came back to him, as if burned into his mind, framed in cracked and burning flesh. "Damn it! Damn it! Damn it!" Victor pounded the tile in his shower. He wasn't sure if this were the effects of a vampire's power. If it was, he felt that he would melt the next time he met one. He had always imagined them being hideous creatures, minions of Hell that deserved nothing better than the stake and fire. But Louise? Had she really deserved what had happened to her? What if it had been him? Wouldn't he have wanted pity, maybe help. What if there were others like her, who harmed no one? Did they deserve the stake? Did they deserve the fire? Who was really the monster? Was it someone like Louise, or someone like Patty? Maybe, everyone was a monster. Feeling more drained than refreshed, Victor left the shower and lay on his bed, ignoring the water soaking into his sheets. (Loose 1 humanity, and 1 willpower). Saturday, June 3rd 1:39 p.m. Professor Poincaire was studiously examining some documents and maps when Victor entered his study. Another man was seated across from the Professor's desk. As he looked over, Victor saw that this man was dressed in a faded leather jacket that had seen many years, and he had mousy brown hair that was greying at the temples. The man's eyes brown eyes seemed deep, like dark rich soil, and as they gazed at Victor, they seemed to disarm Victor's apprehension upon seeing the stranger. "Mon dieu, Victor," the Professor shook his head as if disapproving. "You look like you've not slept in a week." "It's been rough," Victor admitted, smiling weakly. "I heard about Patti," the other man said to Victor in a high pitched voice. He stood up and shook Victor's hand. Victor could see he was short, only just over five foot high, but his hand's grip was like a vise of steel. "Sam," he introduced himself. "I'm Sam Asvold." Victor nodded. Sam slapped Victor on the shoulder. "Hey don't worry about it. It was a rough entry. It would've shaken me right out of here. It says something about you that you're still with us." Victor nodded. "Thanks." "We're just looking over our next mission. Why don't you have a seat," Poincairé nodded at the empty leather chair next to Sam's. "I've requested we get another member to replace Patti, but right now, there's no one available. Our San Jose chapter is having its hands full with hauntings and poltergeist activity, and our Monterey brethren have met with bad luck." "What does that mean?" Victor asked anxiously. "Two dead, and two insane," Poincairé said nonchalantly, which leaves one team member still in the field. He's being recalled, for his own safety, back to Denver." "So? We're on our own. What else is new," Sam snorted sarcastically. "What's the mission?" Victor asked. "You know those killings in the mountains? The ones at the Cowell Redwoods?" the Professor asked. Victor nodded. "Sam here thinks that it might not be the work of cougars after all, but that it might be - werewolves." "Really?" Victor asked, having to stop his disbelief in mid-thought. But then, after all, if vampires were real, why shouldn't there be werewolves. "What are we going to do?" Victor asked. Sam leaned over in a conspiratorial manner, "We're going hunting," he said. Victor thought about what was being suggested. It sounded very dangerous. "You can use a gun?" Sam asked him. "I'm alright," Victor said. What he didn't say was that all of his training had been against targets. "When do we start?" Saturday, June 3rd 7:17 p.m. Sam had driven Victor around town in the Professor's funky 1957 grey Renault. They had cruised through the crowds at the Boardwalk, even taking in a few rides, had lunch on the wharf and had cruised past the Santa Cruz Small Craft Harbor and, most conspicuously, had taken a quick hike around Henry Cowell's Redwood State Park. Their planned hunt wasn't scheduled until new developments occured in the police investigation. Sam had a contact in the Sheriffs Department who was feeding him info about what was going on. Supposedly, there would be a massive hunt that very weekend, with Game Wardens and Animal Control Officers being flown in from all over the State. Neither the Professor nor Sam thought that the hunt would have any effect on the real culprits of the killings. On their way back to the Professor's house on Graham Hill Road, Victor asked the fateful question. "Why do you think that these killings were done by werewolves?" Sam slowed the Renault and instead of answering outright, he reached in back and pulled out a file. Inside, there were several pictures and photocopies of what looked like an F.B.I. report. The report made some interesting suggestions, including mentioning the absence of Mountain Lion hair at the sight, but having found copious amounts of what had been identified as wolf hair, from at least two individuals. More mention was made that there were no known wolf sightings in the area, but that the distorted cast they had made of footprints at the sight, vaguely resembled that of a wolf, except that the weight of the animal was well in excess of two hundred pounds and that the animals seemed to have been bipedal. Victor looked at the photos. The first one showed the site of the attack, in what looked like an open field near a redwood grove. The next photo showed the footprint mentioned. It was long, though the distinctive pads showed that it belonged to an animal. Victor looked at the next photo and went white. Seeing him, Sam pulled over and allowed Victor to open the door and throw up onto the ground. "Sorry, I should have warned you," Sam apologized. Victor would have agreed, but he was too busy throwing up. When he was done, he covered the offending photo of the victims up. The only thing he had seen in the shredded remains that suggested it had once been human was the scratched and scarred face, the eyes still capturing the look of stark terror and pain that had gripped the victim when she died. Sunday 4th June, 8.13 a.m. Victor woke up early. This night he had have a terrible nightmare, just like all the other nights here in Santa Cruz. He walked to the kitchen to eat some breakfast and read the newspaper. This woul hopwfully make him think of something else. He ate little when he saw the headlines of the newspaper, "Murder in the woods", then he suddenly remebered the pictures that he saw yesterday and he hurried to the bathroom to throw up! "AARgh.., this is no life" he thought. But I must bring those poor bastard some justice, I just can't let them die for nothing, but it will require some investigation and serious firepower to get those animals. Victor felt inspired and he almost longed to kill those cruel things in the woods. Sunday 4th June, 9.15 a.m. Vic got dressed and entered the proffesor's studie. He found him reading a book, Victor could see that it said something about warewolfs on the cover but then Poincare noticed his prescense. "Ah, I was waiting for you Kirby, you'd better have a look at this book before you take part in the hunt." "HEY!, I don't want to read anything more, I want some action!" Victor replied in a angry voice "Be patient my friend, you'll soon have so much action that you wished you were here reading more about it" "hrmpff" victor controlled himself and took the book from the proffesor's hand and went out from the room. "If you need me" he yelled, "I'll be at my room, reading this book about werewolfs". Sunday 4th June, 13.01 p.m. Victor had read the book. It was just some kind of "beginners guide to werewolfs" or something like that, what did Poincaire think of him? 'I'm not going to stay here all day'. Victor took his car and drove down to Espresso Royal Caffe, to drink some real coffee. Sunday June 4th, 1995 4:29 p.m. Be careful what you wish for. Such were the thoughts going through Victor's head. He had grown tired of waiting, reading, dreaming about action. Now it was here, staring at him. And to be truthful, so far, it was just as boring. There were five of them, himself, Sam Asvold, and three S.A.V.E. members from Salinas, Maria, Hector and Dave. Another one, Donald, Dave's Brother, was standing guard along with Professor Poincairé at basecamp, which consisted of a van and stationwagon sitting off of Porter Gulch Road. They were all about two miles offroad, having hiked a short distance to a derelict farmhouse. There was a dirt road leading to the farm house, but they didn't want to use it, instead hiking through the back country to take the occupants by surprise. The Professor had told him about the raid just a few hours ago. As he sat by the dry unpainted split rail fence, Victor looked at the farm house just five hundred yards off. The late afternoon sun lay a thick heavy blanket of heat down on him. He thought about what the Professor had told him earlier. "We'll be going on a raid, Victor. That's what you want, isn't it? Action?" Victor remembered getting a lump in his throat. "A raid? Now? You mean, right now?" The Professor had taken him into the next room to meet the four S.A.V.E. members from Salinas, who'd arrived to help the Professor out. The Professor had ascertained that news stories about cougar attacks were in truth the work of renegade werewolves prowling the hills. He had said that werewolves were known to pass through the area from time to time, leaving a trail of destruction. A massive manhunt conducted by the F.B.I. and Department of Interior had failed to locate any werewolves, killing however several mountain lions who were probably guilty of no more than killing the odd sheep or pet dog now and then. Contacts of the Professor's in the Sheriff's Department had confirmed the sweeps lack of wolf finds, which meant the wolves were in hiding. However, as he said it then, there was some indication that werewolves had always been living in the Santa Cruz Mountains. They might, in fact, be descended from a line of werewolves who preyed on the local Coastanoan Indians, before the arrival of the Spanish. He produced impressive documents, mostly in Spanish, from the last century. They were borrowed from the University of California, at Berkeley, and they were personal testaments of some of the last surviving California Indians with pre-Colonial knowledge, as transcribed by a contemporary historian who wanted to preserve this living legacy. The historian had pulled the documents that the professor was now holding aside, declaring them too fantastic to be published.. They told accounts, as told by grandfathers and grandmothers to their grandchildren of wolves, who lived among the tribes and who feasted on the flesh of men. They said that the wolves had eaten so many people that the spirits of men grew inside the wolves until they could take human form and live among men. "Sound familiar?" the Professor had asked. He then told the group that he hadn't been surprised by the lack of success on the part of the F.B.I. sweep. "After all", he'd said, "what if the wolves aren't wild, but living among us, assuming the guise of men. How would you tell them from any other man? I mean, you might be shopping alongside one of them at the butcher stand at the meat market." Sam had quipped, "But what about when they get a taste for human flesh?" "Exactly!" the Professor had agreed. "We know from these accounts of the Indians that werewolves have a desire, almost a need at times, for human flesh. In that way, they are monsters and that's why we must destroy them." The Professor had then gone on to explain that he believed a group, or werewolf family, was living in the Aptos Hills. He wouldn't say how he came by this information, but said that a raid would have to be organized to try and capture at least one of the werewolves. That way, the beast could be interrogated, to help find out how many others were living in the mountains, or even in the cities. Then a "proper" hunt could be organized. "What about the others?" Maria had asked. The Professor had taken a long draw on his pipe. "I don't think they'll just go away. As we've learned, they have a need to kill and eat humans. They'll have to be destroyed," he had sadly surmised. Now, Victor was perched, ready for attack. The farmhouse was in sight. Maria, Dave and Hector were making a wide sweeping action, hoping to cut off any werewolves they tried to flee when the attack started. Sam was to initiate the attack, sneaking up on the farmhouse while Victor covered his rear. Using walkie talkies, they were to keep in constant contact with the Professor, who was monitoring actions near to the basecamp. He and Don had medical gear, both to treat any of the team that was injured, and to anesthetize and incapacitate any werewolf captive. Victor checked his gun. It was a bolt action deer rifle, firing .303 ammunition. He looked at the bullets he'd been given, a case of fifty long bullets, whose silver casings shown brightly in the sun. "Keep those covered," Sam hissed. "You don't want to give us away, do you?" Victor covered the bullet case, keeping several bullets near to hand. As well, he had a .45 caliber pistol, also with silver bullets and a long silver dagger. Around his neck, he wore a sprig of wolfsbane. "Good luck, Sam," Victor whispered to Sam. "You too kid," Sam patted Victor on the back, getting ready to make his advance, just as soon as the Professor gave the word. The farmhouse ahead looked strangely silent, as if either empty or a place of ambush. Looking over at Sam, Victor noted that the older man was armed with a M-16 machine gun, likewise equipped with expensive silver bullets. Victor didn't want to think of the cost. People like his uncle were fueling the "Cause." "Sam?" Victor asked, "What if the Professor's wrong? What if the people in there are just people, after all?" Sam looked at Victor. "Well then kid, shit happens. You just deal with it. It wouldn't be the first time." There was a strange look in Sam's eyes. Victor was going to ask what Sam had meant by that, but the Professor's signal came over the radios. Sam started to crawl toward the farmhouse. It was an agonizing journey, that seemed to take forever. Finally, Sam was poised near one of the broken windows. He paused, peeking inside. Then he fired his pistol, having seen something or someone inside. Then it was like all hell woke up. Shots were being fired everywhere, both at and from the farmhouse. Victor fired his own rifle, taking care not to hit Sam. He could hear the guns going off from the three S.A.V.E. members in the back. Sam pulled out a grenade and dropped it in. Just then, Victor saw someone run out the side of the house, away from Sam. The person ran at incredible speed and was heading, right for Victor! At that point, after the grenade exploded, everything went quiet for a second. Sam entered the farmhouse while Victor took a bead on the oncoming - person? It looked like a person, Victor thought. Suddenly, there was a scream. It sounded like Sam. Victor stood up, exposing himself and the person running for him saw him then. It then took off running, heading for the woods off to Victor's left. The screaming continued inside the farmhouse, then abruptly ended. Victor was torn, unsure of whether to head for the farmhouse and help Sam, or to try and bring down the supposed werewolf, now running with great speed, away from the farmhouse. Panicked, he tried to think of what to do. Sunday June 4th, 1995 6.01 pm Victor sat in Poincare's car and tried to remember what he had done. He had aimed at the running monster at his left and he had shot after him but he couldn't remember if he had hit or not. But at that moment he didn't really care. Short after, he ran to Sam that laid, badly hurt, not far from the farm. Victor scanned the terrain to see if there where any Werewolfs nearby, but there wasn't, not any that he had seen anyway. Therefor he picked Sam up by his arms and dragged him to the base camp screaming "come over here and help me!" Tuesday June 6th, 1995 2:18 p.m. It had been two days since their abortive attack at the abandoned farmhouse in Aptos. Sam had been badly injured and was recuperating in Monterey. For all their troubles, nothing had been gained. Victor's own shot had been wild and the "person" who'd been running toward him had veered off toward the wood. Running to aid Sam, Victor had found him bleeding inside the house. There had been no sign of werewolves save for a heavy musty air inside the house that had made Victor's hair stand on end. There had been scratch marks as well, but nothing further save for some tattered poetry books and a wood carving set. Retreating back to the Professor's house, Poincairé had surmised that, in some yet unknown and totally mysterious fashion, the werewolves had managed to escape. "What's next Professor?" Maria asked. "Well, until Sam's better, I think we should lay low, at least for now. I know you all have pressing things to do back home in Salinas, so I thought we'd round things out by going for a day hike up in the mountains, up in Big Basin park. However, I need one of you to volunteer to go back to the farmhouse. It's a longshot, I'm sure, but there's always the chance that one of the werewolves might return. If so, we still might be able to capture one. The person will carry this machine pistol, loaded with silver bullets, of course, and a tranquilizer dart gun, with sufficient tranquilizer to put anything up to a bear asleep. And this cellular phone. What about it? Anyone feel brave enough?" Tuesday June 6th, 1995 2:23 p.m. Victor, that felt a little dissappointed after they had failed to catch a werewolf yesterday, was about to say no to the proffessor's offer. But something made him change his mind: "I thought you would never ask. I'm in" Poincaire seemed a little bit suprised when he heard Victor say thise words but he maid no big deal of it. "OK, if that's what you want, then I think you should do it. You really need some field expierence, but remember this is not some kind of a game, this is for real so you should be extra careful. If things seem to go out of hands, don't be afraid to use the phone. It's a Nokia, just like the one that Jay Leno uses. SAVE will pay the phone bill, don't mind about that." "Allright then" said Vic, "But I think I will have to refresh my memory on how to use this machine pistol and the tranqulizer gun, it's been a long time since I was in the marine" Maria, that hadn't seemed to pay any atention to the conversation between Vic and the proffesor reacted on Victor's last sentence "Who are you trying to fool? The way you behaved yesterday at the farm couldn't even scare a canadian boyscout" "hrme hehe, well, anyway, I want some of YOU to show ME, how to use these things OK? Happy?" "We'll take care of it," mr Poincaire said and laughed. Wednesday June 7th, 1995 4:56 p.m. Victor had gotten so bored, waiting as he had outside the farmhouse, that he had hours ago decided to at least explore the building. At first, it had been an adrenaline rush. Going in to face the unknown, and all that But the building had been empty. It was dusty, dirty and there was a strong animal scent in the air. Victor found the scent unpleasant and strangely disturbing. Still, he decided that the building itself would be the best point to make an ambush. So, Victor climbed up to the naked rafters and sighted his rifle onto the front door. After that, hours passed away as he sweated in the stale musty air of the small farmhouse. After almost ten hours had passed, Victor decided that he'd had enough of waiting. He decided to ring up the professor and call for some relief. After he'd gotten some sleep, he could relieve whoever relieved him. Before he'd left, Poincairé had Victor that they were expecting reinforcements in the form of an experienced hunter that S.A.V.E. was sending them. The professor didn't know who that person would be, but given the way things were going, they would need all the help they could get. Victor was dialing the professor's phone number when a shadow appeared in the open doorway followed by the sound of sniffing. Then something big walked into the room. Wednesday June 7th, 5:01 pm Victor felt a bit nervous. "It's now or never, him or me", he tried to figure out what MacGyver would have done in a situation like this but he would never be so stupid to sit and wait for some werewolves to stroll by. Victor unsecured his rifle and tried to aim at the sniffing animal inside the building. He checked twice so that the rifle was properly loaded and that he had his knife ready just in case he missed "ok, I'm ready you loser, here comes the silver train". The beast man thing began to sniff around. It sensed that he was present. Vic knew he couldn't wait to see if it was alone. He raised his rifle and fired. {Round 1: Vic receives automatic initiative. Man-beast hybrid enters room. Vic aims and fires (1 success). Add 1 sucess from willpower (minus 1 on Willpower). Werewolf dodges (subracting 1 success.) Vic hits = barely. Vic (2+1-2dodge=1) bruises werewolf. Thing transforms, gaining height and bulk. It is now at least 8 and a half feet hight and could easily pluck Vic from his perch in the rafters. Vic is now 8 Willpower. He rolls wits + occult for 4 sucesses. He is not affected by delirium.} {Round 2: Initiative: Vic has 2 successes; Werewolf gets 4 successes. Werewolf wins initiative. Vic chooses to shoot with machine-pistol. Werewolf chooses to jump up and attack Vic. Werewolf goes first. Werewolf jumps up to the ceiling, past where Vic is lying on the rafters, and takes a swipe at Vic (Leaping Rake). (3 successes = 12 feet up, more than enough to reach Vic.) - misses! Vic shoots with his pistol (3 successes), hitting the werewolf on the way up. (3 successes +3=6 hits. As these hits are with silver bullets, damage cannot be soaked and is considered aggravated.) Werewolf falls to the floor an unconscious lump. Vic dropped down to the floor and stared hard at the thing. It was alive - barely. Then, remembering where he was at, he quickly reloaded his gun and stared around, ready for the appearance of another. A voice came over his radio. "Victor! Victor!" It was the Professor. He sounded concerned. "Victor! What's happened?" Victor raised his gun, but the werewolf didn't move. Wednesday June 7th, 1995 5:07 p.m. Victor answered the Professor "Poincaire, I've got one, he's barely alive but you guys better get over here quick! I'm waiting in my car" Vic scanned the area for approaching enemies [if he thinks that there isn't any more enemies then:]. Victor climbed down from the rafters and ran to his car, he was very nervous and scared. When he got to his car he yet again scanned the surroundings. If there seems not to be any more werewolfs around then he calls the proffesor again "WHAT is taking you so long, get over here, on the double!" "qui, we're almost there, hang in there". Vic waited at his car (not inside) until the proffesor and his crew arrived. Poincare walked towards Vic saying, "Thank god you are alive, where is the werewolf" "come follow me" Victor answered. The s.a.v.e. gang approached the barn. Victor whispered to the others "I don't know if there are more of them, be on your guard and be prepared for everything". Victor, know feeling as a true leader, pointed at the rafters where the werewolf were supposed to be. [if there isn't any werewolf nearby then:] "Come on, let's get over there and get him with us. Wednesday June 7th, 1995 7:45 p.m. "Well, it has certainly been a busy day," Poincairé beamed. "Here young Victor has brought us definitive proof of the existence of werewolves and Maria here brings us proof of vampires. And in both cases, we have a captive specimen. Superb!" The Professor couldn't help showing how animated he was. His eyes were almost dancing out of their sockets as he gazed at each one of them in turn. He seemed nothing more like a young child given a secret key to the candy shop. "Victor, allow me to introduce you to Quinton." Changes had certainly been happening. Though Sam was out of the picture for a while, recuperating from his wounds, the new vampire hunter that the Professor had promised would arrive had done so, appearing as if out of nowhere. He was a large strapping fellow with brown beard and a grizzled scarred face that was scary to look at. Scarier still were the man's grey eyes. They seemed to bore into Victor whenever they looked his way. They were cruel, pitiless eyes that marked what Victor had only seen once before - in the eyes of the werewolf he'd captured. Those were the eyes of an experienced killer. Victor couldn't believe it when he heard that Quinton was only 32 years old. Judging from the scars and lines evident in Quinton's face, Victor would have guessed that the Hunter had at least half again as many that number of years. "Where did you capture the vampire?" Victor asked Maria. She smiled slyly, as if caught in a lie. "Well, I didn't actually. Our vampire was working - can you believe it? - as a doctor at Dominican Hospital - the night shift of course." Poincairé butted in. "No doubt to ensure a steady supply of blood for itself and others of its kind. It shows you how cleaver and resourceful these creatures are. One should never underestimate them." Maria waited to make sure that the Professor had finished before going on. "Anyway, a contact of mine at the morgue called me to tell me that a doctor had been killed in an attack upon that young girl who was herself attacked at the Boardwalk. Apparently, it now comes to light that the attacker was a vampire and not the man who'd been accused of the crime earlier. That man in fact helped stop the vampire from killing the girl, though a policeman and supposedly our good doctor were killed. As it turns out, the doctor - though pronounced dead - reanimated while being prepped for autopsy. Rather than call the authorities, my contact called me instead. And now we have a captive vampire - though what this vampire's status in regards to the young girl victim was is unknown. Probably, he was in league with the other vampire who escaped and was going to help kill the girl off before being surprised by the police." "Do we have a description of the vampire that escaped?" Quinton asked. Maria turned to Hector, who brushed his fingers through his buzz cut hair before speaking. "Not as yet," Hector admitted. "Police are trying to cover the whole thing up - natch." "Well, that's nothing new," the Professor sighed. "It seems to be what they do best. Certainly, they don't seem to offer much in the way of protection and as far as our purposes go, would be a great danger to our operation if they should ever learn of what goes on here. We must make some efforts to cultivate a contact in their department, though." "You can leave me out of that one," Quinton said quickly. "Yes, I suppose that isn't surprising," the Professor said, giving Quinton a quick glance. "Well, we shall examine our prizes tonight. Later, we'll have to work out an examination schedule and feeding routine. I want to keep these two alive as long as possible in order to find out about the current status of other undead and lycanthropes in the area." "If you say so, Doc," Quinton said, lighting up a cigarette. "There's no smoking in the house," the Professor pointed out. Quinton ignored him, taking a long drag on his cigarette. "If you ask me, I say we should get rid of these 'things' A.S.A.P. They're dangerous and keeping them alive's going to jeopardize the Op. If you want, I could finish them" The Professor interrupted by snatching Quinton's cigarette out of his mouth. "If it comes to that, I'll be one to make that decision. Let's not forget who runs this Chapter, shall we? I am, after all, the senior S.A.V.E. affiliate in the area." "Except I'm not from this area," Quinton added. "But whatever you say, Doc. You play with them as long as you want. But I'll be keeping an eye on them - and you." To Victor, it sounded more like a threat, but the Professor let it pass. Wednesday June 7th, 1995 10:53 p.m. The Professor decided to wait until well after nightfall before letting the others in to see the captives. Only Maria was allowed to assist him until then. As they entered the laboratory in the rear, Victor saw nothing of the werewolf he'd captured earlier. Instead, the muscular form of a naked woman presented itself, being strapped to a chair by metal straps that cut into the woman's arms and legs. Dried blood showed that she'd bled a bit. The supposed vampire was also naked, his pale corpse like body seemed shriveled and weak. A empty feeding tube was attached to a needle which had been pushed through his stomach. The vampire's unkempt darkish blond hair was unkempt and he stared at each of them with apprehension. Victor couldn't help thinking of Louise. "How ya doin, Doc?" Quinton grinned in a manner that was not meant to be friendly. "I'll bet you're sorry you didn't finish me off the first time - when you had a chance." Brandon strained once more against his bonds, but it was just a formality, really, no strength behind it at all. Looking up at Quinton, he shook his head, tiredly. "I never 'had a chance' to 'finish you off,' Quinton. You were a patient. I was the doctor. There's a little thing called the Hippocratic Oath, you know." He closed his eyes for a moment. Opening them again, he looked over at the older man who seemed to be in charge. "What now? Shall I do a little act? I can't do a song-and-dance at the moment, I'm afraid, but I know a couple of neat card tricks." As he spoke, he tried to draw himself up in the bonds, to attain a position of a little more dignity, but when he finished, he slumped back down. "Interesting," Poincairé said, stroking his neatly trimmed beard. "So you still maintain that you are bound by your doctor's oath? Do you mind if I ask you how long you've been - undead?" Brandon blearily focussed his eyes on Poincairé. "Of course it still holds me. I swore it, didn't I? Nothing in it about 'until you turn into a vampire', is there? " He frowned suddenly. "Heck, that bit about 'sharing my substance' with 'he who taught me this art' seems eerily appropriate." Brandon's eyes wandered slowly around the room, but he didn't seem too happy with what he saw. After a few moments silence, he spoke again. "And to answer your other question, a couple of weeks or so. I think. I'm not sure what today is." Rather than speaking more to Brandon, Poincairé turned to others assembled, addressing them much as he would a class of freshmen. "Observe, mes étudiants, how it clings to the values of its human existence. This is because it is a very new undead. Though we are not privileged to address one of the older, and might I add much more dangerous vampires, you would note how far removed they are from humanity - even to the point of becoming more like animals than anything even of a tiny semblance human, other than the general shape that is. Though it is not apparent in this particular specimen, already the process of this degradation has started. As it continues to feed, preying upon what were once it's fellow humans, the process continues. I believe that the mind of the undead is still very much active, but in a state of denial. Witness this specimen's claim to adhere to its doctor's oath, quite possibly true - for now. But one cannot deny the facts that this one feeds on the living, has in fact become a vulgar parasite. And it is these facts that cause something approaching a psychic break with aspects of its nature. It must do terrible things to survive, things that were once quite abhorrent to it. And though at first, these creatures try to deny this and claim that they are still the same, the cycle of murder and parasitism preys upon their emotional state, driving them to homicidal madness and insanity, or even worse, into a depraved contempt that allows them to think that they are superior beings to us. Do not doubt that though they are the epitome of evil, and that they soon begin to loose the trappings and values of their human existence, they still retain their rationale cunning. They stop actually having the feelings that you and I, as humans possess, but they remember these feelings and will use them against us in a most cunning manner." At this, Poincairé gave one of the group, the young quiet man, a concerned look. "Never trust them. Learn from them, but only that which it takes to destroy them." "What are we going to do with the Doc, here?" Quinton asked. Poincairé gave Brandon a cold look. "I don't think giving these creatures names, even titles such as 'Doc' really helps us here. They have after all, ceased to be human. Learn from them, mes étudiants, in order to better destroy them. Listen to them, but never believe them. And even pity them, if you would. But never trust them and always beware their powers - strength, inhuman speed, transformation, and the ability to even influence your own thoughts. Being aware of these abilities - especially the latter, is your only chance to guard yourself against them. Weaker ones such as this one are not so much a problem once they are found out; but the older ones have been the source of misery and terror through the centuries and have survived through not a little cunning and through their remarkable powers. Consult some of the SAVE files, copies of which I have in the secret library. You'll note that more than one SAVE party has come to grief through underestimating these things." Turning once more to Brandon, "Tell me, what others of your type are known to you? If you are helpful, it will aid your survival. And I will reward you." Poincairé nodded to Maria, who unstoppered a bottle containing blood. She waved it under Brandon's nose and he nearly went wild, struggling against his bonds. "You see, how the evil lies under the surface, ready to emerge with nothing but a lust for blood and killing. Well, do you think they are so human now?" It was obviously with difficulty that Brandon brought himself back under control, staring hungrily at the blood before him. "Try waving a steak in front of a starving man and see how calm _he_ takes it, why don't you? Of _course_ I want that blood. It's my _food_, and I'm _hungry_." Licking his very dry lips, Brandon continued. "And as for being a parasite...parasites don't give anything back. I'm a doctor. I try to heal people. We all take something from this world, and some of us try to give something back." He strained towards the blood again, his eyes full of his hunger. "I wish I had something to tell you, but I don't know much. I'm too new. There was the vampire who made me a vampire, but she didn't stick around and tell me her name. I ran into another vampire who called himself Raphael." And again he strained, trying to break his bonds, to reach the container of blood so near him. His control began to slip, his speech breaking down into inarticulate grunts. "Alright then," Poincairé nodded. "Tell me about this other vampire called Raphael. And tell me, what is YOUR relationship to him." Brandon tried to shrug, though the bonds still held him tightly, foiling his efforts. "Well, he was fairly average looking. He had some kind of accent, French maybe. Might have been Cajun, I guess. Dressed casual, needed a shave." Brandon paused, frowning. "And as for our _relationship_...we didn't have one. We both understood what we were. We introduced ourselves. He left. That's about it." Brandon chuckled hollowly. "Please forgive me if I'm glad I don't know anything else about him to tell you." "How did you come to meet?" Poincairé smiled to his entourage. He held the blood bag up, dangling it before Brandon's eyes. "And where did this meeting take place? If I believe your answer, you'll be fed." Brandon stared at the lifegiving fluid, his hunger showing clearly in his eyes. He licked his dry lips. "It was down near the beach, near the Boardwalk. I...was hungry, had to feed. I found a woman coming out of a bar, a bit drunk. I put her to sleep, managed to get what I needed...about as much as she'd have given at a blood bank. Her boyfriend showed up, so I left." Brandon couldn't move his eyes from the blood. So _hungry_. "It was after that that Raphael introduced himself. I suppose he could have seen me feeding; he knew I was a vampire, and he let me know he was, too." Once more, Brandon strained at the bonds, moaning softly. Victor smiled at the vampires cheap lies. Then Victor couldn't stand it anymore, he shouted "DAMN! Why do we bother with this loser vampire when I just cought a perfect werewolf to do some intresting experiments on?" "It seems to me that you wouldn't have bothered if I got back i a body bag from my last assignment" "Come now," the professor chided Victor. "I see we are all very tired. Perhaps we should all retire. I need to think. And yes, you're right Victor, we will need to attend to your werewolf as well. There's much work to do and we've been handed two very nice boons here." The Professor ushered Victor and the others out, locking the door behind him by punching a keypad. "Say, you've never given me the combination to that lock," Victor pointed out. "Yes, I know," Poincairé said. "Nor do I intend to. You're still new, Victor - and despite your very impressive results by capturing that werewolf, you still have a few things to learn, both about discretion and tact." "Now, let's retire to the house. I want to talk to all of you." Wednesday June 7th, 1995 11:53 p.m. The Professor lit his pipe. "It was in my mind to make some efforts against the local vampires. My goal of course is to find the chief vampire and kill that one. Without this vampire, the others would be more easy to kill, having lost direction and focus. However, my interview with that thing out in the lab had made me think that there might be a more complex structure existing than we know about. I think we'll need to do some more studying before we act." "However, we need not remain idle. The great find our Victor has brought us leads me to think that we can perhaps help rid the area of the band of werewolves that have been plaguing it. My studies lend me to believe that werewolves are rare and that they roam about in small bands. No doubt, the werewolves we fought earlier are part of a small band that had entered this area and if we kill them off, we can ensure peace for the families living in the mountains for generations." "Now, our captive specimen has proven very uncooperative and refuses to divulge any information. Regrettably, I've even had to use pain as an inducement, but even that has not availed us. So, I've decided that we shall organize a little hunt. With the Mountain Lion activity of late, I can secure us permits to go hunting the cats. Of course, what we shall really be after is the werewolves. Hopefully the scent of the others is similar and by using bloodhounds, we can track them down. Now, I know we're all tired, but these werewolves, having lost one of their number, are likely to leave the area and plague some other parts. It is our duty to kill them off before that happens. So, I want you to all get a good nights sleep. You can all sleep here. Tomorrow, we begin the hunt." Thursday, June 8th, 1995 3:58 a.m. Victor woke up when something yanked him out of bed. Before he could speak, a hideous smelling hairy hand was pressed over his mouth. As the hand closed and the claws bit into his cheeks (Bruised), he realized it was actually a claw. A rank breath assailed him in the darkness. "Here, I thought I recognized your smell!" the thing growled, barely able to make out the words. "I should kill you right off, but I want you to feel how it feels to be kept captured, tortured, and then slowly put to death. See how you like it human! And just before you die, I eat your intestines while you watch!" With one tremendous blow, Victor was clubbed to unconsciousness. Time Unknown Victor felt an oily liquid sliding down his throat. Coughing, he sat up. He was someplace dark and clammy cold. His body ached (Hurt, -1) and their was a burning sensation in his stomach. "Here," a woman's voice told him. "Drink this and you'll feel a bit better?" "Where am I?" Victor asked her, as he tried to swallow the foul liquid, but throwing it up instead. There was no answer. "Where am I?" he repeated. "Hell."
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