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.”