Interspersed with static, the chopper pilot reported back over the radio. “The is correct Sir, the target saw through Rabbit’s mask. We’re five clicks out from drop off now.” The headset crackled with the reply from command, “Return to base, terminate Rabbit. Acknowledge.” The pilot spared a glace to his junior, and exchanged nods. As the co-pilot slide from his harness and into the back of the Huey, the pilot spoke into the microphone and banked. The nose of the helicopter was pointed south by the time the muzzle flash lit the interior. “Order Acknowledged, Sir. Returning to base, cargo gone and one light.”
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.”
Another snippet from the in-game past of our Montreal by Night game.
Just outside of Buffalo; Within the office of a chard auto mechanic’s shop, two hours after sunset.
As her looked about the scene, the Nosferatu known as Rabbit spoke to his hunched back minion, “Tell the Prince that the cleaners should arrive shortly.” As his childer began to leave, so as to deliver the message, something caught Rabbit’s critical. “Wait!” Rabbit, living up to his name, hopped over to a corner of the burnt out room in which he and his childer stood. Crouching down, his knees tucked next to his ears, much like his name sake, he wiggled his nose and sniffed the air. “Phosphorus” he declared as he slide the half melted shotgun shell from beneath the chard Ottoman. “That would explain the fire.” He turned the shell in his hand, and his pallor faded further than his ‘condition’ normally allowed. “It was Sabbat, likely a war party. They used Dragonsbreath. I’d guess, on the whole Coterie. They hit right after sunset.” Rabbit stood and handed the partially melted shell to his childre. As his hunchbacked childer ambled over to his sire, and reached for the shell, Rabbit grabbed his hand and held it tightly. “Lladislas is bound to have a bee in his bonnet over this, so tell him from a distance.”
At the same time, just outside of Erie, Pennsylvania, in a white panelled van
From the rear of the van, another Nosferatu, this one very different spoke with confidence, “That’s got to be the easiest hit I’ve ever done. Gypsy, how about you let me drive next time we stop for gas?” From the passenger seat, a leather clad woman sighed very loudly “Not this again… Snake you don’t even know how to drive! Seriously, how the hell do you get into the Hand without knowing how to drive?” Snake snorted, “Come into the back Incense, and I’ll show you what I can do.. oh the things that…” The driver cut Snake off before he could finish his faux come-on, her voice was quiet and slightly accented “The tank is full, we shall not be stopping unless needed. Since I doubt that they are fools, they would have found the remains by now. If I forgot to say it before, you both did well.” A pregnant silence of shock filled the van for a full mile before Snake spoke again, “Do you know why they wanted us to grab this one” as he drove his boot into the stomach of the staked kindred next to him “Or is that confidential?”