Quick glimpse – MbN – Yuma, August of 1998

Yet another snippet from the in-game past of our Montreal by Night game.

Rabbit looked about at the carnage. He counted eight to ten mortals in various states of dismemberment. Judging by the piles of ash, two kindred of at least a century had also met final death. He murmured to his childer, “This does not bode well.” He nudged a muscular arm, detached from the body it once belonged to, with his hairy foot. “This happened fast Malachi, look… the arm still holds a pistol.” His childer, Malachi, nodded in agreement and gestured to additional body parts. “Yes Sire, these two as well.”

Rabbit sighed and flapped the collar of his shirt. Even after dark he found this city too warm. Rarely did he wish to work this far south, the Mexican border was less than fifteen minutes away. He looked about the bar once again, it reminded him of a low budget movie set for a Mexican movie. “Malachi, tell me why they were even in a shit hole like this again.” Malachi did his best to straighten up as he referred to the small moleskin notebook that he always carried. “Sire, the reports say that they were backing a power play with one of the local drug cartels, which seems accurate given where we are. It also says that both Kindred were deeply in debt to…” He paused as he flips to the next page “Mr. Kevin Jackson. Who seems to be the one who financed their endeavour. Last night’s enquiries by Bell suggested that Mr Jackson was quite forthcoming. That’s all I have.” With that Malachi closed his notebook.

While listening to Malachi’s discourse on why they were in this abattoir, Rabbit had crouched down to get a better look at the wounds of the mortals. “Look at these cuts, doesn’t it remind you of Atlanta….back in 88? The cuts are so precise, there are no defensive wounds.” Malachi closed the distance to his sire, and cleared his throat as he crouched down to look at the severed arm “Sire…you have me confused with my predecessor.” Rabbit stood up suddenly and frowned “I’m sorry Malachi.” He reached into his pocket and withdrew a pair of aviators sunglasses. “I get your point.” As he slid them onto his snout, he smiled slightly as he gestured to the bodies “But they got the edge instead.”

Lifting the Veil

Michael awoke from the wolf dream in pain, but not in Chicago. Looking around quickly, he saw that he was no longer packaged away in a crate. Slowly, blurred memories came to him through the fog of his dreams. Vaguely he recalled strong hands pulling him forth from the body bag where he slept. He recalled a struggle, and he recalled the vinculum calling to him, to leave a message for his pack mates. That was when the silky touch of his sire’s hand upon his cheek occurred. then he slept again.

Through the pain, the veil of the dream induced fog, was burnt away from his mind, just like it would upon a hot summers morning after a rain. He looked about the dimly lit room as best he could from his position, seated, and facing a corner. Bound to a tall steel chair, by metal cables; at wrist, elbow, shin, thigh, and neck, his field of view was limited, much like his options. Using his considerable strength he attempted to push down with his toes, so that he could knock the chair over. He quickly realized that his feet were unable to touch the floor, and his inability to shift his weight enough to flip the chair suggested that it was securely bolted to the floor regardless. The more he moved, the worse the pain.

His struggles did bring one thing to his attention, the rocking had swung an intravenous bag into his view. It hung from a post on the back of his chair, leading to an IV line in his neck. The IV itself did not bother him, it was the metallic flakes in the solution that the bag contained that worried him. He knew, from experience, that silver caused him pain, and weakened him. Panic began to set in, as he knew that he had to remove the needle in his neck. In frustration, and with panic setting in, Michael yelled “I AM TIRED OF THIS BULLSHIT! REMOVE THE NEEDLE.”

The needle remained, but from behind him, a chorus of voices replied to demands. Each voice was an octave off from any of the others, but all carried the familiar voice of his sire. “Make yourself comfortable while I lift the veil, and tell you of your pedigree my …pet.”


MbN – An Hour Until Dawn

The Hyatt Regency on East Wacker, Chicago
He slid his arm from underneath her and rose from the bed. He had nearly an hour until dawn, and as usual, he refused to waste what time he had. As he stood and dressed, his eyes fell upon her hands and lips. With great care he leaned forward and checked both for any clue of his presence. “No blood or hair, excellent. It would not pay to leave anything behind.” he thought to himself.

Straightening, he adjusted his shirt, and smoothed the one wrinkle that he could find. “Genevieve…you may come in.” Seconds later, the door to the suites’ master bedroom opened, and a second woman entered the room. With red hair that was pinned up into a bun, tastefully applied makeup, and tailored business wear, she radiated confidence. Ignoring the brown hair woman in the bed, she turned the overhead lights on, and approached her sire, looking into his glowing green eyes as she moved, a sign of respect for his station. Speaking as she crossed the plush carpet “Sire, if you are finished, shall I have the car brought around?”

“No mah dear, I shall stay in the next room until tomorrow eve’. By all reports, she sleeps longer than she should. Ah shame really, but ah’ll have ample time to depart before she wakes.” He extended a hand forth to his progeny, focusing his own gaze upon hers for the first time since she entered. “Ah trust that you won’t be too hard on her. She has been through a lot you know, and she is rather fragile at this point.”

She stepped forward, pressing herself against him as she slid her hand into his own. A slight smile, devoid of warmth slipped onto her lips “I know Sire, you have stated so repeatedly.” Her words dropped to a near whisper, and her voice suddenly became more husky “Though, if you feel that I need something to reinforce the instructions…a reminder of who issues the directives…oohhh”

With the strength and agility of an elder vampire, he pushed his progeny backwards onto the bed that was several feet behind her. As he began to undo his shirt, for the second time in this room this evening a hard tone crept into his speech. “Ah do think that a reminder mah be in order. Oh, and do try not to wake her. She might not wish to join us.”

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