Masquerade: Midsummer Nights (Apply in OOC)

[Luminesa]

Gravity works quickly, and both the Mage and the Hunter knew this as they fell off the skyscraper. The wind rushed cold and furious past them, and as they fell several hundred feet, each tried to pull themselves right-side-up. Being more used to flight, Mikhailov twisted like a cat and easily re-adjusted himself. He drew his sword just as his opponent managed to stop himself from falling, and Mikhailov flew at him while he was in mid-turn. “Showing your stomach to your opponent?! Big mistake!” he taunted.

Yet even in mid-air the Inquisitor was graceful, and he whirled around as he parried his sword once again. He eyed the ground below. They were still too high-up for most people to notice them, but they would have to go higher-and away from the city-to protect the Masquerade. Thus the Hunter forced his sword forward, and as he managed to push Mikhailov back, he took the opportunity to fly away in the direction of the sky, heading toward the Hollywood Hills.

Annoyed that his opponent seemed to be retreating, Mikhailov shot after him, and thus chased him through the sky, up to the heights at which the sky turns from blue to black. Celestial bodies stood as spectators as the Mage caught-up with the Hunter and slashed at him again.

The Hunter dodged by gliding lower, and he turned once again. This time, however, he took his sword and changed its form in a blaze of light. A long, midnight-colored spear appeared in his hands, with a silver point aimed toward the Mage as he flew down toward him. “...As far as the earth is from the sun, so shall You remove our sins, oh God...” he whispered. He then adjusted himself and thrust the spear at Mikhailov.

Caught in his pursuit, the Mage did not even see the spear coming, and he got stabbed square in the left shoulder. The wound stung, but he merely grit his teeth and forced himself forward. Yet the Hunter would not stay still. “Curse you!...I’ll show you yet, brat!” He then created a prism of light behind the Hunter, and once again he pushed him through. The prism closed behind them, and the two seemed to be trapped in an alternate dimension of sorts. White light specked with colorful light surrounded them, and silvery clouds of light floated around in an otherworldly display.

The Hunter needed to get his spear back, as quickly as possible. Mikhailov himself was not remaining still, so he needed to halt him. He looked around at the beautiful lights around them, and he decided to use his surroundings to his advantage. His eyes glowed bright-blue, and he held out his hand. White light formed in his hand, and he began to bend it and expand it. The Mage kept back, as he watched his opponent carefully. He had done enough rushing, and now he needed to end the Hunter. Nobody would be able to bury him in a place like the prism realm, after all.

Mikhailov decided to move closer, but as he did so, he found he could not move. “...Wh-Wha?...” he tugged his wrist, but it would not move. He tried his other wrist, and had the same luck. “...Wh-What is this?!” he called.

“...You have made a realm of light...and it is quite magnificent...” the Hunter answered softly, as he opened his hand a little more, “...but all false light will be revealed in the eyes of God...” He then clenched his fist shut, and pulled back slightly.

“Ngh!” Mikhailov’s body pulled together, and he realized he was tied by fine, wire-like strings of white light. “...Hngh...you camoflauged the light to match the color scheme...clever boy...” he muttered through his teeth.

“...Have no worries. I’ll release you after I take back my spear...” The Hunter leveled himself with Mikhailov, and walked on the air toward him. He seemed to be in little rush to take his weapon back, and he twirled the light around his fingers as he moved closer. “...I should probably also heal the wound. Your shoulder will be in bad shape once I take that out.”

Mikhailov smirked darkly. “...You know how many veins and arteries are up there?...You’ll kill me if you pull that out...” he warned. Yet the smirk melted off his face as the Hunter stood directly in front of him. He noticed a feature that not even the Hunter had noticed. His hair had fallen out of its bun, and now flowed in long, soft, silver waves down his back, ending at his knees. He had seen that hair...and those eyes...before. But where?

The Inquisitor stared at him, as he stood inches in front of him, and he seemed to have the same realization. Mikhailov looked exactly like...someone else he had seen. His face did not show surprise, as Mikhailov’s did, but his eyes did glitter with a thoughtful light. “...I see...so this is where the dream has led me...” he whispered.

“...What are you talking about?” the Mage questioned. He took his eyes away from him for a moment, and focused on the hand full of strings of light. Maybe he could hurt his hand, and force him to let go...

“...Do you remember the story of Joseph, who could read the dreams of the Pharaoh?...”

Mikhailov was baffled, and stared at him. “...What does that have to do with anything?...” Deep down, however, he wanted to hear what this mysterious figure, seemingly straight from his odd dream, had to say.

The Inquisitor continued to twirl the string in his hand, and lowered his eyes shyly. “...I suppose that is where magic and faith meet...in the world beyond what we can see or understand...in our dreams. I have had terrible nightmares which have signaled my fate, and then kind dreams to cause me to think...It seems you have had the same experience...are we truly meant to be enemies?” he inquired earnestly.

“You stabbed me in the shoulder and then you asked that question? Ah yes, I see you have really thought this scenario through!” the Mage remarked sardonically, a wry grin on his face. He grabbed a part of the string with his hand, and prepared to send a bolt of Magic through to shock him.

His opponent laughed, his eyes crinkling a little. He then took out the spear, dissipating it with his free hand, and then placing his free hand over the gaping wound to heal it. “...True, true...You are right to accuse me of being short-sighted...I usually wear glasses for a reason...” he explained.

Mikhailov took the chance then to fire the Magic into the string, but the light clashed with his power. Like a bullet jammed in a gun, the Magic blew back, and the Mage jerked back in pain. “GAH!!! WHY YOU...”

With the shoulder-wound healed, the Hunter sighed, and he yanked back the string, tightening his hold of Mikhailov. His eyes became serious again, and he stared deep into his eyes once again. “...But this time...I see exactly what I need to do to finish this...I believe this is the final act...” The spear reappeared in his hand, and the Hunter’s entire body glowed with holy light. The realm around them began to fringe and creep back, as though terrified by the power of this human opponent. Before Mikhailov could react, he got blown back by an amazing amount of force, the light burning into him and throwing him through his own realm.

The speed of light is not something to underestimate. In fact, it is fixed: 299,792,458 meters per second through empty space. The Hunter had not only hit Mikhailov head-on, but had wrapped him in the light and had sent him flying away at impossible speeds. If he had not been a Mage, the light would have seared him into nothing. Instead, he felt himself being thrown through the wind, downward, until his body met a ton of glass. A huge explosion of light filled Anna’s mansion at the moment of collision, and the Mage lie on a glass-covered floor, covered in blood and wrapped in the Hunter’s light.

The Hunter himself stood at the edge of the prism, looking down. He saw the explosion of light, and he closed his eyes in a silent prayer. Either the Mage was dead, or unconscious, and he had headed toward an area full of a malicious aura. He pulled his hair back into a quick, braided bun, and he flew just slightly closer to see whose house he hit. He was still several dozen miles away from the mansion, but if Anna or anyone looked out, they would see a figure dressed in dark clothing and glowing, silvery wings.

[Imperialisium]

Anna's Residence
Hidden Hills, Los Angeles County

All eyes where on Silvanus with either keen interest, as was the case of Anna, or with disdain like that expressed on Terrence and Meitz. Bulehard looked from Silvanus to Anna and back. Then to the window as everyone else did except for Anna. Her gaze was fixed directly upon Silvanus. She knew of the chants and rituals. She had seen them done in ages past herself. By Kindred far older and terrible than Silvanus. As the mirror began to be filled with a soft light and dull, blurry, images swam into view. The room and mansion itself was rocked by the sound of the glass shattering. All the windows shattered in the meeting room as a heavy mansized object came crashing through. The hexagram wards put in place by Anna immediately nullified the magical aura of the man that had crashed in. They had also slowed the object down considerably. Reducing it from lightspeed to a speed that wouldn't instantly pulp all of the man's organs on impact. The Kindred in the room practically jolted out of their seats. They eyed the man warily while a trio of Gargoyles burst into the room followed by half a dozen other Kindred from the attendant Primogen clans.

"Restrain that man!" ordered Anna and the Gargoyles, led by Brutus, moved with incredible speed and grace for beings made of stone and metal. Brutus claws grasped the man, manhandling him like a sack of grain, a Tremere neonate moved up and attached warded manacles to the man. "Take him below for interrogation," continued Anna.

The gargoyles nodded and left the room with the unconscious mage. They would take him into a subterranean floor of the mansion. A proverbial dungeon with cells designed to specifically hold the supernatural. Use of his powers would be extraordinarily painful if not kill him outright once locked in. For the supernatural construction of the cells would siphon off his quintessence directly into the Umbra.

Outside the mansion was a flurry of activity as ghouls, kindred, and gargoyles swept the grounds for intruders. Anna walked to the lip of the broken window and looked up into the sky. Squinting she could see the faintest of glimmers. Muttering some words under her breadth she once more gazed into the sky and beheld, as if through an eagles eye, a man wreathed in magical power. Anna squinted her eyes. The magic was not the power of mages. No. She could tell from experience on this Earth. It was the power of Faith. A Hunter of some kind perhaps?

Kai walked briskly through the doors and made for his master. "Mis--." Anna was suddenly not there. Vanished before his very eyes. Kai rushed to the window sill and looked about in confusion.

Meanwhile above the mansion and over seventy miles away in distance. A feminine figure suddenly appeared behind the man, the hunter, known as Alexei. Though Anna did not know him.

"You will have to pay for that window." said Anna. Leaning in to be a mere few inches from Alexei's right ear. But if the man was to whip around he would find no one there.

[Luminesa]

Alexei continued floating in the sky, wondering which mansion he had hit. As he moved closer, he noticed dots of commotion far below. He had definitely caused panic among those who saw the crash. He frowned. Explaining that damage would be a chore, but a necessary one. Or so he thought. As he sighed, he felt a presence move behind his back. Cold, and full of malevolent power. He did not recognize Anna’s voice, but he knew immediately she was a Kindred. An Elder, as well.

A shudder went down his spine, but he remained silent and watchful. He had learned the hard way to never show an opponent that you are afraid, even when they are about to kill you. Yet he also felt other auras within the place which he hit. One of them was familiar, and he frowned. “...Lord Silvanus...I suppose you have now seen my handiwork for yourself...whether or not you know who I am...I know that Mage belongs to you...but I could not let him kill me...I must continue my Father’s work...” he whispered. He did not know whether or not Silvanus would hear him, but he knew that he felt better whispering the words to the cold, thin air around him.

Down below, Mikhailov was aching everywhere. As he regained consciousness, sometime after being placed in the dungeon, he groggily examined his surroundings. He had landed in some sort of torture chamber, from the appearance of the place, and now he was awaiting his punishment for trespassing. He spat some words in Russian before turning his mind to finding a way out. He could not heal here, as he could not physically reach his wounds. The flow of blood kept him lightheaded, so he could not use all of his strength.

I’ll kill that little Hunter yet, for this...I’ll beat him into pulp... he told himself. Yet something in his mind repelled his murderous swears. Images of the dream came back to him, showing him the angelic young man who had let Mikhailov stand under his umbrella. The same man who had nearly killed him in real life had embraced him tenderly in a dream, had suggested that they may have even been close friends in another life. So much strangeness, and he had little time to focus on deciphering these messages. He needed a way out. An opening of sorts. Maybe he could kill a guard and steal the implements necessary to escape. Or perhaps the chamber had some sort of trick exit he needed to find...

[Finsternia]

Silvanus

The Malkavian Elder sat down and let the commotion around him wreck havoc and simmer down. All of his chess pieces have been set down and a little bit of risk too. Mikhailov has been set to lose before the eyes of the Prince and the Primogens and, with his record of having things done properly, would set the stage for his new pawn to enter the stage. The scrying was another part of his plan. If Silvanus would show some more of his usefulness, he'll be more of a trusted ally to the Prince. Even if a Kindred outside of Clan Tremere knowing blood magic is a red flag, Anna should be old enough that what Silvanus used is an older art than Tremere's Thaumaturgy and would identify it as an asset for future endeavors.

He left the other bewildered Primogens and followed the Tremere servants. The Primogens would swear to themselves that the reflections on the mirror are either grinning wildly, smirking or laughing silently but they all disappeared as Silvanus clasped his hands on his mirror locket and left the room to silently to tail the servants. His eyes are also mindly alight with the color of phosphorescent green as his Auspex surveyed the manor. His vision prodded against multiple wards for protection and detection, nodding to the Tremere's proficiency in the art. The Tremere neonates and gargoyles would feel a suffocating feeling pressing down at their backs if they would look at Silvanus, as if there are untold horrors watching them from the corners of their eyes.

Of course they can't really turn down a Primogen who just seems to just want to follow and watch the procedure of them locking up the intruder. Silvanus just followed them down the dungeon cells and looked around like a curious child. A few touches on the walls, a sniff of the air, and glances towards the empty cells. He watched the gargoyles throw Mikhailov into his cell and stood by the corner. "Worry not for me. I just want to see the prisoner come back from his little sleep... Move on now." He stood there, waiting, a faint outline in the dark as he kept watch of his failure of a servant. Mikhailov would notice him sooner or later and he would hear a demeaning chuckle. "What a performance you've given us, Mikhailov. Imagine the displeasure of Her Grace."

[Luminesa]

Mikhailov’s eyes grew more used to the darkness, and he blinked as he began to see moving outlines in the darkness. Someone had come down the stairs to see him? Maybe now I can try to escape... he thought. Of course, when he heard, and saw who had come for him, his stomach dropped, and he grit his teeth.

Silvanus’s soft, sinuous voice met his ears from somewhere in the stairwell, and he knew he was trapped. Badly wounded and unable to use his Magic, he was defenseless against the Primogen. At least, for now. He hoped maybe later he could break free against his shackles and defend himself. Yet for now, he heard the footsteps, and knew he was trapped.

Yet he still could not tell where he was trapped. The funeral home? No, Silvanus had left the funeral home. Maybe he had found him and had taken him home? No, he was not quite that kind. He would make him suffer more before he took him home. He never let Mikhailov go before making him feel uncomfortable in some way. He could hear the malevolent intent as Silvanus taunted him, and he knew something painful was coming.

“...So you were watching me fight the Hunter...hmph. Of course you would cheer against me. Nobody ever accused you of not enjoying watching your companions squirm...” he grumbled. If only he could reach through the bars and grab Silvanus’s throat. “...I underestimated that stupid boy too much. I wasn’t showing my full power like I should have. My arrogance got in the way of fighting properly. So you can wipe that smug grin off your face,” he retorted, as he walked toward the bars.

[Finsternia]

Silvanus

"Oh no, no, no Magico, that's where you are wrong. I am deeply moved by your efforts and your actions tonight have pleased me so. Sadly, this is how your script dictates you to be once the curtain has been called. You've played your role tonight in such commendable fashion, magician." The mirror pendant is dangling from Silvanus' hand, swaying like an alluring pendulum that reflects the torches and magical lights of the dungeon at Mikhailov's eyes. "I see those spiteful eyes of yours drilling through me. You want me to come forward so you may reach for my neck and snap it like a twig. I believe the sound of my throat collapsing would give you such pleasure..." Silvanus would reach towards Mikhailov and the Mage would feel something tighten around his neck, like an invisible vice that clamped down upon his airpipe. His veins would pop out like hideous blue worms wriggling underneath his skin to be free. In fact, he could feel them wringling beneath his skin, squirming, writhing like snakes trying to break free from the thin skin. Oh how delightful would it be for him to scratch them out, to let them be free and spill out of his neck. "Is this what you desire to do upon me? Answer fast... Human bodies are frailer than you think..."

[Luminesa]

Silvanus

"Oh no, no, no Magico, that's where you are wrong. I am deeply moved by your efforts and your actions tonight have pleased me so. Sadly, this is how your script dictates you to be once the curtain has been called. You've played your role tonight in such commendable fashion, magician." The mirror pendant is dangling from Silvanus' hand, swaying like an alluring pendulum that reflects the torches and magical lights of the dungeon at Mikhailov's eyes. "I see those spiteful eyes of yours drilling through me. You want me to come forward so you may reach for my neck and snap it like a twig. I believe the sound of my throat collapsing would give you such pleasure..." Silvanus would reach towards Mikhailov and the Mage would feel something tighten around his neck, like an invisible vice that clamped down upon his airpipe. His veins would pop out like hideous blue worms wriggling underneath his skin to be free. In fact, he could feel them wringling beneath his skin, squirming, writhing like snakes trying to break free from the thin skin. Oh how delightful would it be for him to scratch them out, to let them be free and spill out of his neck. "Is this what you desire to do upon me? Answer fast... Human bodies are frailer than you think..."

“...Hngh...I’m nothing but your tool, no matter what I do...” Mikhailov responded, before he saw the pendant in front of him. The light swung in front of him, back and forth, and he stared at the pendant. Silver, with a broken-mirror pattern. He had never seen this little trinket before, and he wanted to reach out and snatch it. Maybe he could study it while he was stuck in a prison cell. Yet when Silvanus started speaking again, low and threatening, his attention snapped back to him.

Before he could protest, the Malkavian had reached through the bars and grabbed his throat. For some reason, he recalled how soft Silvanus’s hands were, the last time he had snatched him. Yet now he applied superhuman force, causing his throat to close so quickly he thought that his lungs would collapse. His face began to lose color, and he saw something terrifying before his eyes. His veins and arteries snaked around under his skin, waiting to pop. He had to answer, or the Kindred would kill him. Knowing he needed to behave to survive, he let Silvanus read his mind.

Yes I am angry, but I won’t attack you. I know my role. I’m just your puppet. Now let me go! he shot back. Looking too close at Silvanus’s face, something else startled him. He could only see the person from his dream now, when he looked at him. Their gazes were both penetrating and thoughtful, their faces were both pale and beautiful, Silvanus’s hair gleamed in the dim light just as did the Hunter’s. Yet he knew Silvanus had not attacked him. ...That...Hunter...his face...looks like yours... he thought, as he came close to passing out.

[Finsternia]

Silvanus

The Elder seem to be pleased as his grip became feathery touches laced with tingling pleasure of that of a lover. The kind that sends shivers down your spine, that keeps you alive and awake all night, the touch that could shred one's thoughts into primeval carnal lust and weakening desire. Silvanus' long bony fingers caressed Mikhailov's face as his mouth curled into an intoxicating smile, a smile that he swears should belong to the gentle yet heaven's fury incarnate of a Hunter. "There, there... Breathe in... Breathe out... Let your face regain its color and blush... You look more beautiful in youthful pink than bloated purple bruises..."

Silvanus let him go and the old vampire stepped back into the dark outskirts of the dungeon halls. Mikhailov would once feel that uncomfortable feeling whenever he stays too much within the presence of the Malkavian. An uneasy feeling that there is always watching you. He would feel phantom touches on his skin, prinkly like faint jumps of electricity. Perhaps it was the effect of his quintessence exhaustion. Perhaps it was his cell's special wards against Mages. Perhaps it was the effect of Silvanus' ambient madness. Nevertheless, it is as concerning as the Elder's ecstatic carnal touch from awhile ago. "You say that... the Hunter looks like me..." It is indeed true that Silvanus and Alexei do look uncannily the same in many angles. However, while the Hunter has serene blue eyes of that of the sky, the Kindred's eyes were always the color of turbulent chartreuse phosphorescent green.

[Luminesa]

Silvanus

The Elder seem to be pleased as his grip became feathery touches laced with tingling pleasure of that of a lover. The kind that sends shivers down your spine, that keeps you alive and awake all night, the touch that could shred one's thoughts into primeval carnal lust and weakening desire. Silvanus' long bony fingers caressed Mikhailov's face as his mouth curled into an intoxicating smile, a smile that he swears should belong to the gentle yet heaven's fury incarnate of a Hunter. "There, there... Breathe in... Breathe out... Let your face regain its color and blush... You look more beautiful in youthful pink than bloated purple bruises..."

Silvanus let him go and the old vampire stepped back into the dark outskirts of the dungeon halls. Mikhailov would once feel that uncomfortable feeling whenever he stays too much within the presence of the Malkavian. An uneasy feeling that there is always watching you. He would feel phantom touches on his skin, prinkly like faint jumps of electricity. Perhaps it was the effect of his quintessence exhaustion. Perhaps it was his cell's special wards against Mages. Perhaps it was the effect of Silvanus' ambient madness. Nevertheless, it is as concerning as the Elder's ecstatic carnal touch from awhile ago. "You say that... the Hunter looks like me..." It is indeed true that Silvanus and Alexei do look uncannily the same in many angles. However, while the Hunter has serene blue eyes of that of the sky, the Kindred's eyes were always the color of turbulent chartreuse phosphorescent green.

Mikhailov stared at Silvanus as he released his throat, and he gasped for air as he started to regain his consciousness. The gentle, warm gaze and smile Silvanus showed was unnerving, at least for the Mage. Tantalizing...but unnerving. The Malkavian could switch seamlessly from inhuman cruelty to deep affection in a moment’s notice, and he almost felt...close. He did not know what Silvanus’s true personality was underneath the many masks, but his mind hazed over as he stared into the wicked eyes and saw...

He blocked the image in his mind. He had shown enough of himself to Silvanus for a night, and while his expression was inviting, and his voice was soothing, he refused. He knew enough about honey-traps to know to keep back. Yet his defiance had not been perfect, as he was not without his own lusts and desires. His eyes had widened slightly, and his body had become loose and relaxed as Silvanus had caressed him. Part of him wanted to stand there and continue to look at him all evening. Yet he knew that Silvanus would only act intimate and loving until he got what he wanted. He would never show genuine affection, not to a mere puppet, and he was surely waiting to taunt him again for his humanity.

As Silvanus backed away, and Mikhailov came to his senses, he cursed under his breath in Russian once again. Various obscenities aimed at himself for his weakness, for literally baring his neck to a Kindred. He wished his face could not show blush, that his eyes could not betray his thoughts and his soul. He thought about the Hunter’s eyes, how they had showed genuine care. Even as he had been about to potentially kill him, his sky-blue eyes had been clear and understanding, as though he knew Mikhailov’s faults and hostility and did not fault him. He had even mentioned such during their fight. The Hunter had never teased him, but rather had given true compliments to his abilities.

This sudden contrast in his mind startled him, and he looked away from Silvanus. “...He does look like you...He even sounds like you a little...He beat me to a pulp...while being surprisingly gentle...He could have...should have ripped out my shoulder with his last attack...but he didn’t...He healed me, even...” he muttered.

[Finsternia]

Silvanus

A tentacular grotesque spine grew out of Silvanus' back and he propped himself on it like as it its a stool. Each vertebra has a large glaring eye encased with a hard transparent shell. All of the bloodshot black eyes stared at Mikhailov as Silvanus sat in the air and on his tail, looking like a devilish monkey grinning at him. "You seem to be flustered... I am glad that you have regained some color on your cheeks. I would lose a useful and pretty Doll if you have painted your face an ugly dead blue..."

The Malkavian continued to look at him, as if reading every movement and every mannerism that Mikhailov is showing. He can see great discomfort, shame, and confusion in his eyes and his facial expressions. Silvanus continued to smile eeriely. "You've always... always... desired such a thing... A pure figure of a moonlit crown... A gentle artist whose paint is rose red... A warrior whose blade is that of a smile... You are all talk about this ascension madness when you're nothing but a vulnerable human!" There is a cruel glint in Silvanus' eyes and his smile is a taunting devil's grin, savoring Mikhailov's misery.

[Luminesa]

Silvanus

A tentacular grotesque spine grew out of Silvanus' back and he propped himself on it like as it its a stool. Each vertebra has a large glaring eye encased with a hard transparent shell. All of the bloodshot black eyes stared at Mikhailov as Silvanus sat in the air and on his tail, looking like a devilish monkey grinning at him. "You seem to be flustered... I am glad that you have regained some color on your cheeks. I would lose a useful and pretty Doll if you have painted your face an ugly dead blue..."

The Malkavian continued to look at him, as if reading every movement and every mannerism that Mikhailov is showing. He can see great discomfort, shame, and confusion in his eyes and his facial expressions. Silvanus continued to smile eeriely. "You've always... always... desired such a thing... A pure figure of a moonlit crown... A gentle artist whose paint is rose red... A warrior whose blade is that of a smile... You are all talk about this ascension madness when you're nothing but a vulnerable human!" There is a cruel glint in Silvanus' eyes and his smile is a taunting devil's grin, savoring Mikhailov's misery.

Did Mikhailov like to suffer? He thought about that. He knew he had made himself suffer many times, for the sake of his experiments. Yet what about when others inflicted such on him? He did not enjoy Silvanus choking him, but he did...in a way...find Silvanus holding his face with such care to be pleasant. He laughed at most pain as well, even when the pain should have killed him. Why did he laugh, however? No, he did not want to delve that deep, not while Silvanus watched him.

Yet Silvanus had put an image in his head. The pretty Hunter standing against the moonlight, looking out over the city. His form calm and composed, his eyes far-off and kind...and sad. Perpetually sad, they seemed. Even when he had smiled at him, his expression had been rather melancholy. He understood too much, for someone so young.

Then came the taunting Mikhailov expected, and he shut his eyes coldly. He knew Silvanus had seen through him, and had found the weaknesses in his plans for Ascension. He should not have felt such contempt and such anger, he knew Silvanus would answer this way. He loved to make Mikhailov suffer. He needed to find a way to respond to defend himself, to claw his dignity back.

Putting a smile on his face, he turned toward Silvanus. “...And so you fit all three of those descriptions...Maybe that’s not your true appearance?...Maybe you simply play around with the look you think will keep me by your side...” It was true, and in any other case would be self-deprecating, but confidently-spoken. “...You think I would run, if I saw what you truly looked like...Surrounding yourself with Dolls and then playing me like a violin...You’re no better...”

[Imperialisium]

Anna

"Silvanus cannot hear you." said Anna with a smirk that the Mage could not see. A cold wind blew in from the North all of a sudden. "I believe a fire side chat is in order, no?" Anna snapped her fingers and both her and the mage were instantly transported into her study. The Mage however would find himself trapped in a hexagram circle. He could move but not leave by magical means. Anna flicked her thumb on her index finger and the logs in the fire place burst into flames. "Take a seat my dear." Pointing her right index finger at Alexei whose body involuntarily sat itself down on the plush black leather couch. As if invisible hands of titanic strength had grasped his mortal form and forced him to sit. She walked gracefully around him. Like a cat eyeing a small field mouse that had lost its way into her home. Her delicate, perfect, hands ran across Alexei's shoulders and the back of his neck.

"You can pretend to not be afraid all you wish. I can hear your heart beat, the succor of your blood pulsing in your veins, the hair standing up along the top of your neck." She knelt down and breathed in his fragrance. The ripeness and healthy blood flowing in that carotid artery was practically begging for her to sink her fangs into it. The quickening of one's heart was a natural instinct, a precursor to fight or flight, and Anna could hear every beat. "When I approach a man you know what gives them away?" Anna walked along behind him slowly. Pacing. "The sound of their heart quickening." Anna made a dull rhythmic clap with the palms of her hands as she continued speaking in monologue, "Sometimes....I can almost dance to the beat." Her dull clapping became faster in rhythm like that of a dancer taking quick steps on a ballroom floor. Anna walked around the far side of the couch and started making her way towards the front of Alexei.

"Now. I have several questions for you, Mage; the first is why a practitioner of Light Magic crashed through my window. Second, the nature of your relationship with Silvanus and what you mean by your Father's work?" She stopped in front of Alexei with an eye brow half cocked in inquiry.

Sherman Oaks

The safe house was in a run down apartment building in a neighborhood home to endemic gang violence. Really it was hiding in plain sight where the Kine authorities would be concerned. It was out of the way, the uneven roofing and slightly slouched walls of the old brown building was dreary to look upon, the two floors hosted a couple dull lights on the second floor while the bottom was completely dark. The nearby street lamp flickered as a black van pulled up on the corner of the street. The van had circled the block six times at random intervals to gather the comings and goings. No one had come in and out of the building and the locals seemed to live normal lives. It blended right in. The side doors opened and out hopped four individuals in dark hoodies and carrying musical instrument cases. Their faces hidden by hoods and balaclavas. Black gloves on their hands. They moved to the other side of the street as the van pulled up along the side of the curb near the apartment building.

The quartet moved into the shadows on the side of the building and opened the musical instrument cases. Pulling out a pair of shotguns, a Tech-9 automatic pistol, and an MP5. Wooden stakes were tucked into their belts and vials of holy water handed around. The shoals of their shoes were made to not give a distinct tread. They moved around the house to the back door. One pulled out a small silvery cross and held it by the door. Running it along the edges of the door frame and across the door. No wards for the cross would feel freezing to the touch if there were. Tucking the cross into his pocket the lead man pulled out a small skeleton key. It slid into the lock effortlessly as the small chip inside the key gave off a yellow than green LED light. The key blades designed to expand to fit the lock of most residential and commercial doors. The man pulled the door open and walked through silently. It was then that one would notice small green goggles over their balaclava faces. Night Vision goggles.

The team entered a living room space. A nude woman was on the couch. Bite marks along her neck, arms, and legs. Her clothes piled in a corner. One of the men pulled off a glove and felt her neck. Dead. Pulling the glove back on the man gave a series of hand signals to the other trio. They began to move in and search rooms methodically. Checking corners and blindspots like a special forces team would.

Stop. Look Right Hideyoshi. The voice of Councillor Maxwill in the man's ear. They had comm beads under their hoods for communication. Hideyoshi stopped and looked right. It was then in the gloom that he noticed the tiny entrance way. It was painted like the rest of the wall and no doorknob would have made it easy to miss or pass up as space for a boiler. Yet the building manifest listed no internal boiler system when they were gathering intel on the safe house. The rest of the team gathered around Hideyoshi as he slowly put his fingers into the creased and pulled. The fake door pulled off slowly and he placed it on the far wall. Another team member peered down into the gloom. A rickety wooden staircase led into a basement that was not on any blueprints nor likely built by the original human builders. It was a secret space. Hideyoshi stepped into the small claustrophobic space and with shotgun in hand he led the way down.

Stepped out he swung right and came face to face with the corpse of a young teenage black girl hanging upside down. Also drained of blood. Those monsters. The hatred in Maxwell's voice was agreed upon by Hideyoshi mentally. The team moved into the space and split up into pairs. Moving through the musty, cobweb, dirty space they came upon black duffel bags full of cash and finally a series of coffins. One by one they slowly removed the lids to reveal the vampire therein. Pulling out a wooden stake and a hammer they rammed it into the creatures heart. It was so sudden that they either did not respond or their eyes and mouths gaped in surprise. The stake preventing their movement. When they got to the fifth coffin though the lid burst open and the vampire rocketed out of it. Sending one of the team members, Reynolds, back against the wall. Unconscious from the impact. The vampire barred its fangs and muzzles flared as Hideyoshi let loose a shotgun blast directly to the beasts chest. Sending it flying backward. It twisted and leaped up and rolled. Landing in front of Hideyoshi. Claws formed on its hands and the vampire slashed. Hideyoshi fell as the team member, Jordan, sprayed with his MP5. The blessed rounds ripped up the vampires back and severed his spine. It collapsed at Hideyoshi's feet as he slowly rose. Clutching his chest to reveal that he had kevlar underneath his hoodie.

"Lets kill these freaks." said Jordan as he pulled out a machete. One by one they severed the heads of the vampires and placed them in a steel container. Pouring oil over them Hideyoshi lit a match and dropped it onto their severed heads. Flames lit up the basement for several moments before dying down.

"Come on lets grab the girls, and go." Jordan roused Reynolds and helped him up while Hideyoshi and the fourth member of the team. Michael Gaskin and also a member of Gladius Dei. Helped move the corpses of the two victims out and into the van so that they may be given their last rites and buried properly below Saint Vincents Catholic Church.

The van rolled away much as it had arrived...

[Luminesa]

The world seemed to become eeriely silent, as the woman’s voice echoed away and disappeared. Alexei was not frightened. While he feared the woman was some sort of particularly powerful vampire, she did not seem to be out for his blood at the time. Of course, vampires never sought retribution right away. However, Anna was different, and Alexei was not aware of what she had planned for him. Even when a portal opened suddenly and dragged him into Anna’s mansion, he could not tell what she wanted with him.

He felt his body land on a black couch, and gave a small ‘Oof!’ as his body was forced to sit upright. Now he saw the woman Anna in front of him. She was stunningly beautiful, elegant, and cold. He thought how he had once seen the statue of Eros awakening Psyche, how Psyche’s body had been curved and breathed out of a single slab of marble. Even worse, she walked toward him and massaged his shoulders and neck. Her hands were soft like lace, and every stroke to the back of his neck was deliberate, as though he was a little cat and she was petting him. His heart did quicken a little, and he dodged her gaze. He was not afraid of her, but rather, afraid of himself. He instinctually put a hand over the side of his neck, almost as though he wanted to hide something, as Anna moved away.

Meanwhile, his voice was calm, rhythmic, and relaxed as he spoke to her. “...Almost like a little waltz, I would imagine. A heartbeat is simple, so is a waltz. But I do not believe you would wish to dance with me,” he answered, with a laugh. Then she came to the topic which was most pertinent. He was confused, however, when she mentioned that he was a Mage. “...Please pardon my rudeness, but I am not a Mage. I am an Inquisitor. A Hunter. My only power is my Faith. As for the person I sent through your window, we engaged in combat a few miles away. We noticed each other, and he wished to fight. I accepted his challenge, as I believed he would be an honorable opponent. Defeating him was difficult, and I may have used too much power to win. Which I guess explains your window,” he explained. Of course, as he spoke of the battle being difficult, his own body had few to no wounds from Mikhailov. Maybe a bruise from being elbowed off the rooftop. Yet as he sat before Anna, he looked unscathed.

The mention of his father brought his eyes to look to hers, and his voice became more somber. “...My father was also an Inquisitor. A much better one than myself, much less reckless and much more powerful than I. But when I was thirteen, I...well...a Toreador approached me and sought to Embrace me. I was outside for longer than I should have been, that night, and I suppose I came under their spell. I approached...and I was almost turned...and then my father killed the vampire. Then...he explained what had happened, knowing that as an Inquisitor, such was illegal. Yet he planned to make me an Inquisitor, as he did not wish to kill me, which would have been the alternative. So when I was fifteen, I began my training as a Hunter. My father died the same year...And now I continue his work...” he told her. He did not seem afraid telling such a private tale, but rather he seemed wistful. His father had sacrificed much to make him a Hunter, and for all realistic purposes such was never necessary. Yet Conor Bancroft had not wanted for his son to be ignorant of the world around him.

Next he paused to think about Silvanus. His relationship with the Malkavian was an odd one, and a complicated one. Yet Silvanus had restored his memories, an act for which he would have to thank the Primogen. “...Lord Silvanus...probably should have killed me the first time we met. I was still fifteen, a new Hunter, and I was training alone, performing my duties every night. I...gained his interest, I suppose as a result of being so foolish as to willingly approach the Malkavian Primogen. I never sought to kill him, in return. I could not even if I wished to do so. He watched over me, during many of my long nights out...and I gave him a gift. Something inconsequential to a Kindred. A little mirror pendant? Kindred cannot see their reflections, but I have heard that the symbol for the Malkavian Clan is a broken mirror?...I...cannot say much beyond this...how to describe our relationship. I hope my answers have been sufficient,” he finished.

Mikhailov remained in the cellar below, but he heard the new voice speaking, and he was shocked. The Hunter’s quiet, polite voice told a story of a strange tragedy, that of his father’s last wish and of his friendship with Silvanus. He had even given him some sort of necklace. He frowned. An Inquisitor who is friends with the Malkavian Primogen?...A little hypocrite then. Maybe his fellow Hunters will abandon him, and we can make sure he is left with nobody. Or maybe the Prince can devour him, make him into a little ghoul or some abomination... he thought. Of course, he had been surprised to hear that the Hunter was still praising his skills, but he also found him arrogant. All humility to him was false, and this young man, however pious he was, was no exception.

[Finsternia]

Silvanus

Indeed, the scrying magic of the mirror pendant is still active as Mikhailov have heard the conversation of Anna and Alexei. It was a good thing that Silvanus has not restored all of the Inquisitor's repressed memories, only the start of their partnership. The trauma of that Toreador's beauty was useful after all. As he has heard enough, Silvanus doesn't want to peep any longer; an old Tremere such as Anna would notice someone listening to the conversation if he continued to maintain the scrying mirror. He closed the mirror pendant and the sharp sound of glass breaking would echo in the dungeon. "Now, now. No more listening to the conversation up above." The Elder pocketed the pendant inside his suit and he walked forward to Mikhailov. "Be a good little boy in the Prince's hands. Do not worry. I'll ask her not to break you... too much." Silvanus turned his back away from Mikhailov and the last thing that he saw was a devious smile. He proceeded to walk out of the dungeons and addressed one of the Tremere. "Child, has the other Primogens took their leave?"

[Luminesa]

Silvanus

Indeed, the scrying magic of the mirror pendant is still active as Mikhailov have heard the conversation of Anna and Alexei. It was a good thing that Silvanus has not restored all of the Inquisitor's repressed memories, only the start of their partnership. The trauma of that Toreador's beauty was useful after all. As he has heard enough, Silvanus doesn't want to peep any longer; an old Tremere such as Anna would notice someone listening to the conversation if he continued to maintain the scrying mirror. He closed the mirror pendant and the sharp sound of glass breaking would echo in the dungeon. "Now, now. No more listening to the conversation up above." The Elder pocketed the pendant inside his suit and he walked forward to Mikhailov. "Be a good little boy in the Prince's hands. Do not worry. I'll ask her not to break you... too much." Silvanus turned his back away from Mikhailov and the last thing that he saw was a devious smile. He proceeded to walk out of the dungeons and addressed one of the Tremere. "Child, has the other Primogens took their leave?"

Alexei was awaiting Anna’s response patiently, when he heard Silvanus speaking to another vampire nearby. He remembered that Mikhailov had been in the funeral home with Silvanus before, and that Silvanus had left by himself to go to some unknown destination. Now he connected the dots, and his eyes shifted in the direction of his voice as he came up the stairs. ...And other Primogen were here as well...so this was...some sort of meeting that I crashed...Some dire, secret meeting... he thought. He was not frightened, though he was aware that in such a situation, even if only Anna and Silvanus seemed to remain, he was vastly outnumbered and out-skilled.

Mikhailov downstairs did not want Silvanus to leave, for some reason. He knew that the Malkavian would only serve to torture him, to manipulate him, but bad company was better than no company. Yet he could not exactly keep Silvanus from leaving, given his current situation. Now, he could only sit in the darkness and listen to the silence. Anna was interrogating Alexei, and such would end either with the Hunter banished or devoured. Stupid Hunter...maybe he’ll slip-up and say something to get himself killed... he thought.

[Imperialisium]

Anna's Residence
Study and Library

This is interesting. A Primogen looking after an Inquisitor, something most of our kind would use an excuse to Red List the perpetrator, I may have to rummage around in my dear Malkavian friend's head. That would be most unpleasant for him. Especially for being a careless spy to scry me in my own court. Anna sat down opposite of Alexei, crossing her right leg over her left. Clasping her hands on her lap to listen to the remainder of Alexei's words as they trailed off from between his lips. "Sufficient, perhaps." Anna let out a small, malicious, smile on her perfect lips. She nodded to a Tremere neonate standing nearby. The neonate vanished into a side room. Returning a moment later with a small rolling table common with waitstaff and house servants. Wheeling it in front of Anna he pulled off the stainless steel cover to reveal a set of utensils, a small bowl, and a packet of blood like those found in a blood bank or hospital.

"But if you wouldn't mind I would like to take a look myself in that skull of yours." She stood up and as she finished her sentence she gave Alexei a little tap on his forehead. Half turning away before saying, "Not that you have much say in the matter." She poured some of the blood into the bowl and begin chanting in Koine Greek. Small whispers between her lips in that exotic language. The blood in the bowl began take on a perfectly smooth, glasslike, texture. She pulled out a syringe and moving over to Alexei, unceremoniously stuck it in his neck. Pulling out a vial of his vitae she emptied the syringe into the bowl. Lastly she placed a hand firmly on Alexei's head.

Right away the Inquisitor would feel a presence. Not corporeal. But in his head. Like something had forced itself into his very skull. A pressure and dull headache began to form in the back of his skull. Anna had forced her way onto the surface of his consciousness. Most intriguing. Someone has set up blocks, walls, to keep certain memories hidden away and inaccessible. I know of a certain Malkavian with some sorcery who could do such a thing. Yes....the breadcrumbs are faint but there. Anna dug a nail into Alexei's head and a lancing pain in the back of his skull manifested. Anna was trying to pierce the walls Silvanus had set up. Her first barb metaphorically did nothing but scratch the surface. The second cracked one of the blocks. A third. Then a fourth as she began to dig deeper through the barriers Silvanus had set up in Alexei's mind. They had been more than sufficient to keep the memories from returning to Alexei. But against Anna she would breach them. She only needed time as she bore her way through deeper into Alexei's consciousness.

Outside Mikhailovs Cell

The Tremere neonate, an Apprentice by clan ranking, looked at Silvanus and gave a bow to the ancient Primogen. "The others aside from Lord Bulehard have left. The Nosferatu is outside Anna's study waiting an audience with the Prince."

[Luminesa]

She really was beautiful. Beautiful...and dangerous. He watched her sit next to him as he spoke, and her posture looked perfect. Anna had sat here listening to many other such prisoners before. Her patient expression was one that was waiting for him to drop a certain term, a certain phrase which would signal to her the information she needed. When he finished, he did not know whether or not he had given her what she wanted, so now he took his turn waiting.

He did not expect the bowl of blood, or the syringe which she inserted into his neck. He gasped just slightly, as he was used to feeling pain in this spot. Yet when he saw she was going to interrogate him further, he had to force himself to remain calm. He only hoped she would not find his darkest secrets, the things he even hid from himself. The first room Anna would have see, however, was a memory of which he was all too aware. A dark room with a circle of men in cloaks, and in the midst of them was a tall, sickly Inquisitor and his small teenage son.

“...He brought an actual child...His own child...”

“Conor, you have truly outdone yourself.”

“He’s just a little lamb...and now you wish to throw him to the lions?!”

Alexei stood in a completely darkened room, surrounded by horrible, mocking, pitying voices. They jeered at him, lamenting the fate his father had brought upon him. “It’s not his fault!” Alexei wanted to scream. Yet the words would not come to his mouth.

“...Alexei, please...”

His father’s pleading, trembling voice spoke behind him, urging Alexei to remain obedient and steadfast. Without another prompting, the boy swallowed his fear and faced the Inquisitors. “...Yes, Father...” he whispered.

A tall pillar of a man walked forward, shrouded by his own ancient cloak, and he glared down at Alexei. The thin, pale teenager was still dressed in his school uniform, and his short, curly white hair was slightly messy, but he stood like a perfect soldier. Yet the Headhunter still narrowed his eyes. “Conor, What is this?!”

“...This is my son...my only son...” Conor did not step forward.

“...This is the offering you bring us?...”

“...Yes. He is the only one I have...”

The Headhunter leaned over and examined Alexei. The boy wanted to please his father badly, and thus did not move or make a sound. His face was like a stone, even as he was uncertain of his future. “...And you desire for him to be a Hunter?...”

“...It is the only fate I can give him...The only way...to protect him...He knows...now he must understand...the world around him...for his...” A long, harsh cough followed, causing several people in the room to jerk-up and stare. Several of them knew Conor was gravely ill. One could not see him well in the dark, but those who did see him either stared, or turned away with disgust. Finally, Conor caught his breath and finished. “...His sake...and...his mother’s...”

“...And do you think we have time to babysit a child? Has he even hit puberty yet? Look at this!” The man took a strand of Alexei’s hair and twirled it around his finger. “Like a newborn puppy.” He spat at the boy, who still did not move. Several of the Inquisitors chuckled, while some sighed.

The laughter continued for a moment, until Alexei finally defended his father. “He saved me from one of the Kindred...” he whispered, wiping the spit off his face with his sleeve. “...I would have died. He was the only one...who was there to protect me...And now he is ill...I can only fulfill his request to the best of my ability.”

The soft, earnest reply surprised everyone into silence. They had expected a frightened, emotional child, rather than a shy, well-spoken teenager who hid his emotions well. Alexei’s expression did not change in the wake of their silence.

Conor smiled, and walked closer behind Alexei. Even as he was weak and fragile, he was still much taller than his son, and looked like a wizened shadow guarding the new initiate.

“...I only ask that you shall accept me as one of your own...I will learn everything to the best of my ability...and I shall fight the Kindred alongside you, as I am asked...” Alexei continued. His voice was oddly soothing and smooth, like chamber music. Definitely unusual for a boy his age.

Even the Headhunter was slightly impressed. He frowned, and unsheathed his sword. He then held the tip directly on Alexei’s throat. “...This is a deadly business your father has thrown upon you. You will meet enemies who are utterly merciless. They will not care for your young age, your manners, or your bravery. They will devour you, like a little chick that has wandered from its mother. And Conor is entirely aware, I am sure, of the death you could face at their hands. I say he is a fool, if not a murderer...but it is your decision. How old are you?...”

“...14. 15 in March, sir...”

The Headhunter shook his head. “...You will have to learn quickly...I doubt you will even see your 21st birthday, never mind your official entrance as an Inquisitor. You will have to spend several years in grueling training, with nobody to support or guide you,” he insisted.

“That is fine. I wish to fulfill my father’s wish. That is all.”

His response carried the force of a church bell with the lightness of a dove’s feather. The Headhunter stared at him, as though he did not truly understand the implications of becoming a Hunter. Yet he could not doubt the steady gaze in the boy’s eyes.

Silently, Conor put his hands on Alexei’s shoulders, his bony fingers grasping him for dear life. “...My son...Alexei...you have always done...as I have asked...And now...I shall not see you grow-up...” He briefly turned Alexei to face him, and now the light in his eyes changed. Conor’s face, once handsome and chiseled, was now sunken and grey. The light in his eyes was dying with the rest of him. Yet he attempted to smile, to show his son the paternal warmth he had always given him.

Alexei could not hide his fear now. Vampires and ghouls did not frighten him. The darkness outside and the other Hunters around him did not faze him. Yet his father was...unrecognizable. He heard a voice he knew with a face that he did not know. He shivered, and tears came to his eyes. “...I will make you happy now...so you will not have to worry about it...” he muttered.

Overcome by pride, Conor pulled his son into his arms and held him. His body was already cold, as though the grave had welcomed him long ago. Even his own Hunter’s robes fit awkwardly over his hidden hospital gown, as though they did not recognize the body that wore them. Yet Conor knew Alexei, and Alexei, for a moment, remembered Conor. “...You will be great...I can see it now...My own flesh and blood...I love you...”

The touching memory faded, as Anna moved further through Alexei’s memories. As he saw the memory himself, Alexei had to control himself to keep the tears from falling. He clenched his fists in his lap and whispered a prayer. He closed his eyes and focused. He could not let her see his weakness, no matter what else she saw. Yet then the first truly frightening image appeared in his mind. Yet the image seemed innocent enough...

A single white rose. The next memory lay behind this flower in a vase, tempting and inviting Anna, as though she was Belle in the Beast’s castle. Alexei also saw the rose, and wished to stop her from seeing what came next. Yet his body could not move to stop her. He could only watch, and hope that she would not slay him after what she saw next.

[True Christopia]

Silvio Loretta

He had a glass of whisky in one hand. Not one from the bar - one of his special 'own' brand. He'd been saving it since the twenties, for just the right occasion. Home brewed. The two men sat in-front of him also had a glass, confused at why they were having such a privilege.

"Vito, Danny." he chanted, raising his glass. They copied in tandem, lifting their drinks with him - casting a baffled glance at eachother for a moment. They then were reminded of his presence, his commanding figure, and their eyes snapped back to him "We don't even need to scramble to the top this time." he grinned, "We're there."

Again, baffled, they drank with him in any case. He then explained - "I've been elected primogen, for some fucking reason. Evidently they liked my sales pitch, eh?"

"What'd you say to 'em?" Vito asked, leaning forward.

Loretta shrugged "Just talked about my background. I think they got the message."

Danny nodded "So, we're back in the game, then?"

"Yup." Loretta said, taking a swig of the strong drink "That's just right."

[Kingdom of Irhk]

Demon Fox Riyoko

Connor's great bulk and physique made it easy for Riyoko to dodge and retaliate. Surely they weren't using any weapons but both werebeasts are as deadly as any weapon with their expertise. The kitsune assassin was swift with her strikes and swift with her dodges, fighting her sparring partner's great strength with agile finesse. Just as she was about to parry a punch from the Garou, the door was kicked in by their pack mate, bringing in the bad news of a Garou bar raided and razed to the ground. She stepped back and grabbed a towel to wipe herself up of her sweat before nodding to Connor. "Any plans as to how we face this? We do not know our opponent. We still are at our nerves' edges from that old Malkavian's nightly attacks with his flesh robots."

Connor Mac Domhnaill

"First we need to visit the damned bar. Vampires might get the advantage of hierarchy around here, but we have the advantage of hunting. Riyoko, you are with me. Derrick, this is the last time anyone here leaves in a group of two, got it? From now on we walk in trios. If this is the work of vampires, Kuei-Jin or in the last and worst case, Inquisition, we need to be careful. Alright, let's go."

Some time later...

Crossing the city, Connor and Riyoko got closer as they could from the place that was Wolf's Den. The bar was absolutely destroyed, and police seemed to take a particular interest in that place. Yellow tapes restricted direct access to the place, at least in that particular moment, and the leader of the Fianna pack was worried. The attack was brutal, and nothing was left behind. The report that another Garou gave to him wasn't exaggerated at all.

"So, Asian fox. Any ideas? I suspect the cops won't let us in the scene."

[Finsternia]

Silvanus

The Primogen nodded at the neonate and went on his way. He paused here and there to admire the Anna's manor, checking out paintings, decorations, and furniture. Whenever he feels magically enchanted items or anything like it, he would stop for a moment and gaze. Eventually, he reached outside the study, where the Nosferatu Primogen is waiting. "I see that one of you still remains... Have any business with Her Grace, Bulehard?"

Demon Fox Riyoko

The Kitsune wore a normal modern outfit of humans for nightly get-outs, but underneath are cunningly hidden spell forged daggers and carefully folded kami. Her black hair is tight into a clean bun, for ease and for safer combat, and she is wearing glasses to complete her disguise. "As expected from the Hunters, they will eliminate threats once they grow out of control. Those religious maniacs sure wanted us gone." Riyoko fiddled something in her pockets, which are two sheets of paper with the kanji word for inspector badge written on them. She placed one of they papers in Connor's hand and she confidently strode into the scene of the crime, brandishing the kami at the police officers. "I am senior inspector Theresa Lee of the FBI. My partner and I are dispatched to oversee a... peculiar instant of arson."

[Imperialisium]

Outside Anna's Study
Ulysses P. Bulehard

The Nosferatu Primogen was not a handsome man. He was a Nosferatu after all. Their Antediluvian progenitor, Absimiliard, received a small scar on his face during his embrace by the beautiful Zillah in ages past. The trauma of the embrace and the marring his perfect features would be the seed of hatred that would lead to him help rally the dissenting Antediluvians into open revolt against the Second Generation. Caine in turn cursed Absimiliard and all his descendants. The marring, powered by Caine's curse, warped and disfigured the Nosferatu into the grotesque creatures they are today. Even their progenitor has a burning hatred for them and thus they live in isolation or in closely knit groups. As a result they are excellent at gaining intelligence in areas that have sewers, cave systems, and abandoned buildings where they can move unseen. Providing some of the most skilled agents in the Camarilla for espionage and covert operations (even by vampiric standards).

Bulehard possessed a large, long, nose and large ears. His eyes were bee-die with sickly green irises. His shoulder's were small and pinched, like someone had picked him up and squeezed, while he was not particularly tall either. Standing at only five feet and eight inches. His short grey beard and mustaches completed the look.

"My business is my own Malkavian. But you might hazard a guess as to why I am still here. The issue with the Toreador Primogen. It leaves an unsavory taste in my mouth." said Bulehard with a side ways glance. Bulehard was as opinionated as any Elder should be, and did not care about voicing his concerns as a Primogen either, but it was no secret that Bulehard had a strange persistence in all matters concerning the Prince of Los Angeles. That title had always been a tumultuous one and was on its third holder in twenty years. But it was also a title of considerable power if wielded appropriately. It was no secret that D'Guiscard was as indolent and incompetent as they come. His fourteen year reign was one dominated by his Primogen Council which more or less ran the city. His predecessor, Sebastian LaCroix, was a mixed bag. More in line with intrigue and self empowerment than the actual running of his demesne. These two lackluster leaders is what allowed Los Angeles to quickly slip from Camarilla domination to that of the Anarch Free State and almost lost to the Sabbat after Bloody New Year's.

It was obvious that Bulehard had a special affinity for the current Prince however. The Nosferatu had shirked the previous two Princes at every opportunity. Now, since Bulehard took the reins and the ascension of the current Prince, the Nosferatu of Los Angeles were always doggedly loyal to Anna's cause. During the open fighting with the Sabbat in the months following Bloody New Year's the Nosferatu were instrumental in conducting espionage operations, spying, covert movements, fighting in the sewers, and raiding from manholes deep in Sabbat held territory. Further, they had taken to this with extreme perseverance and surprising courage and suffered no small proportion of casualties in the process. Their efforts where of course rewarded with extra feeding territory and the approval of over a dozen more candidates for the embrace. Yet, there was more; the two had history if it was indeed a one sided affair. Bulehard felt affection for the Tremere sorceress, and despite her not returning the feelings, he remained persistent in winning her approval or favor in most any affair. His jealousy of anyone close to her was even more obvious if one were to look. Though it was a rare occasion that it be paraded to flagrantly. Yet, even today at the meeting when Silvanus arrived with his usual platitudes; Bulehard's eye twitched at every pleasantry.

Anna's Study
Anna and Alexei

The images flowed into Anna's mind. She saw what he saw, she felt what he felt, she heard what he had once heard. Except while he relived the moments in excruciating torture of images, motions, feelings, and loss. It was like a film reel to her. He felt his pain, she knew of his pain, but it did not torture her like it did to him. She drilled deeper into his mind. Plowed through another mental wall in his mind to release even deeper memories to the fore of his consciousness. It was a physically and mentally exhausting affair to go through if one was in Alexei's case. Every word, injury, and grievance brought back to life so vividly. It was like it was happening all over to him again.

Alexei was raised an Inquisitor. Those secrets buried in his mind now were brought to Anna's mind as pure unfiltered knowledge. The images of the sickly Inquisitor, Conor, the young Alexei. She was reading his life like it was a periodical in the cover of TIME magazine. Except not biased journalism and more the unadulterated truth.

Stop said Alexei's consciousness as Anna spied the vase. Anna dug her nails into his scalp. Causing tiny little trickles of blood to matte in his hair from her finger nails digging into his flesh. Her grip on his mind tightened like a snake coiling about fresh prey. She bulldozed through the mental barrier protecting the vase and now would see the significance of that item.

"Your memories are but pages of a book to me, boy, your wishes fall on deaf ears." Anna mentally touched the vase.

The Wolf's Den Crime Scene

The LAPD eyed the badge warily. But her supernatural guise was enough for their mortal eyes and the uniformed officer blocking them moved on. Giving them access to the crime scene. There they would see the burned rubble. Forensics combing through the wreckage to retrieve bones and possible evidence for the arson. Uniformed police officers walked the perimeter and walked dogs through the surrounding fields in search of additional evidence. Mainly that of a perpetrator. All that they would pick up though was numerous scents, human, and dog which is what a Garou would smell like anyways in their bestial form. Not that any of the police canines would be able to convey the difference to their human masters.

[Luminesa]

Alexei felt all of the pain Anna wished for him to re-live. His body ached from anxiety and terror, his heart pounded, and he felt a pulsating emptiness as he saw his father’s dying face. Yet on the surface he remained silent and calm. He could not struggle, or else the process would hurt even more. He breathed deeply...

Yet as he saw the next memory she had reached, something inside of him tore open. Just barely, he flinched. His body became stiff, and Anna could see sweat beginning to roll down his cheeks, down his body. He whispered something under his breath, a prayer of some sort. He did not ask for the pain to end, but that he might be able to endurance what came next...

The bones.

The flesh.

The tissue.

They weren’t supposed to be arranged like that. They weren’t supposed to be in those places. They shouldn’t have been connected like that.

The eyes. They weren’t supposed to be moving. Not after all of that.

There was no way that the Hunter Gerard Abrams was still alive.

A pile of flesh lay before the group of Hunters, decaying and bloody, behind a group of bushes in Lincoln Park, in Los Angeles. He could only be identified by his eyes and by the sword on the ground next to him. His body was unrecognizable, blasphemously re-shaped into what resembled the skeleton of a long-dead animal. Many of their bones were crushed, but their rib cage had been extended and shortened in various places. Flies settled over the rotting carcass, and the smell was unbearable.

The first Hunter who found the carnage almost immediately turned away to vomit his insides. When the rest arrived to see the body, he was still on his knees, heaving and sweating.

“...Lord have mercy...” Another Hunter merely shook his head, unable to add anything to the statement already given.

“...It got Abrams, of all people...” A third Hunter picked-up the fallen warrior’s sword, and then glanced painfully at Abrams’ remains. “...Yep. This was the work of a Tzimisce alright. And I bet it laid this trap so we’d find it.”

“...It...definitely took its time tearing him apart...” The first Hunter finally stopped heaving long enough to add a statement. As he spoke, much smaller Hunter knelt next to him and rubbed his back tenderly, as the older man seemed he would be sick again. “...Ngh...it’s ungodly..only a Devil could...enjoy such torture...” He began to cough again, and vomited bile in the grass in front of him.

The much smaller Hunter eyed the older man with surprising calm, silent as he comforted him. After a few moments, he turned his head and stared at the body. The smell met his nostrils, and he covered his mouth and nose for a second. When he turned back to his comrade, he took his hand off his mouth and nose, and exhaled. “...It’s a Wolf-and-Sheep game...They are waiting for us to make a move...” he whispered.

“You may just be right...” the first Hunter mumbled to him, grateful for his company.

“But there’s no way any of us could fight this monster alone! If it got Abrams, it will get the rest of us!” the third Hunter interjected.

The small Hunter remained silent in thought, and held the hand of the Hunter next to him. “...We must quickly salvage the remains and leave...He will come back to this location...the scent of blood will draw him over to us...” he added.

The Hunter standing closest to the body nodded. He had just gotten off the phone, having called the police to report the murder. “Bancroft has a point. We can’t leave Abrams’ body here...But we need one person to remain here with the police, when it arrives...and as a civilian...Remember, we still can’t break the Masquerade...” he warned. “There’s no way anyone can know a Kindred did this, and someone needs to tell a believable story to the police...”

Alexei turned and looked up at him. “I will do it,” he replied simply.

Two of the other Hunters stared at him, incredulous.

“A little squirt like you is going to stay behind, with a bloody body?! Are you mad?!” one shouted.

“No, I am sane, sir,” Alexei answered, “I am the smallest among you, and also the weakest. I will make an easy target.”

“...You’re just as bad as your father,” another Hunter mumbled.

The Hunter who had addressed Alexei first held-up a hand to silence them. “...It is his decision. He is aware of the consequences. If he is not dead by the morning, then God will have at least provided us with one miracle.” He then turned toward Alexei, who left the sickly Hunter next to him and awaited his superior’s command and blessing. “...Keep watch over our fallen brother’s body, and protect the Masquerade. May God remain with you, Hunter Bancroft,” he spoke solemnly.

Alexei bowed. “Thank you. If I do not return, pray my soul is in Heaven with Hunter Abrams,” he muttered.

“...God help us, we’re leaving a child behind to face a monster alone...” the sick Hunter muttered. Yet he did nothing else to stop the events from unfolding, and so he left with the rest.

Alexei was now alone, waiting for the police. He returned to his civilian appearance, wearing a pale-pink sweater, faded jeans, and white sneakers, and then knelt on the ground next to the body. Ignoring the horrendous smell, he clasped his hands in prayer and closed his eyes.

The Hunter Novice continued to kneel in prayer, in front of Hunter Abrams’ remains. His Faith could not heal the Hunter, or bring him back to life. Aware of this, he did not cry, but rather clasped his hands more tightly.

Soon the police would arrive, and once Alexei told the story, he would head home. That is, if the police made it in time. A half hour passed, and the police did not arrive.

Alexei opened his eyes, and examined his dark surroundings. He adjusted his eyes, blinking a little, and then he stood. Something was wrong. Los Angeles traffic was usually a wreck at this time of night, but the police were not that far away.

Before he could mutter a question of what was happening, however, a beautiful glow emanated from behind him. The boy’s eyes widened, and he gasped, as unusually warm light brushed his back.

“...Little children should not be alone at night...” A kind voice whispered to him, sounding calm and feminine.

Alexei turned to face his new companion, who was most definitely not a police officer. An angelic being stood behind him, bright and magnificent. They had six electric-blue wings, all burning with a gorgeous turquoise flame. They wore a sheer, glittery, embroidered gown, with a white satin gown underneath, both floor-length and elegant. The being had pale blue skin, long white hair, and a gentle face.

The boy took a step back, at the sight of the unearthly creature, and he placed his hands over his heart. “...An...Angel?...” He stared toward the wings, in awe of the creature as it stood before him.

“Yes. Come closer, little child. Step into my light...where you will be warm and safe...” As Alexei approached, the Angel’s smile widened. “Yes. Such an innocent child. And so beautiful as well...”

Alexei blushed, almost as though he was ready to swoon. Being called beautiful by an Angel was a privilege, after all. “...I am...only human...” he mumbled, bowing his head.

The Angel nodded. “Ah yes, but God took special care creating you, did He not? Tell me dear, why are you out here all alone?”

“...You are an Angel...has God sent you to...protect me?...” Alexei inquired.

The Angel did not seem to expect to be answered with a question, but it merely nodded its response. “...Yes...Such a lovely creature...should not be left alone in the darkness of the night...”

The Hunter Novice stepped closer, as though to examine the being’s appearance up-close. It’s eyes sparkled like crystals, and its pale-blue lips were pursed in a pleasant smile, as it watched Alexei examine it up-close. “...I am...watching over the body of a friend...he was killed...and now he needs someone to stay with him...while the police arrive...”

The Angel’s eyes filled with sorrow. “Ah yes I see it! Oh what a dreadful semblance...Such a cruel end to a short life...Little children should not see such things...” The Angel drew Alexei close to it, and Alexei would hear a song playing in his ears. A sweet lullaby, sung by other heavenly voices. He felt his mind become blank, and his body become warm.

Yet Alexei, even as he felt an aura of peace around this Angel, could not help but feel he was missing something. He looked toward the wings. Six of them held the Angel afloat, as it embraced the Hunter Novice and soothed him. “...Your...wings...”

“...Oh? Do they bring you comfort, child? Shall I wrap you in them to keep you warm?...You are shivering...”

Alexei was indeed shivering, but not
because he was cold. His body had realized that this Angel was not all it seemed. The Angel’s voice had even changed slightly to reflect the observation. The voice was deeper...more alluring...and Alexei felt his eyelids drooping. “...You are a...a S-Seraph...you have six wings...I should...be burning in your presence...”

The Angel grinned, an ominous hint in the beautiful face. “...Yes...but if you were burning, I could not embrace you...Are you afraid that you shall die?...”

Alexei tore himself away from the Angel, and backed away several steps after. He stopped shivering, and clasped his hands together in front of him. “...No...I am not afraid of my death...” he whispered. In a flash, his civilian clothing had become his Hunter’s gear, and he opened his eyes. “...And I stand here now to protect the body of my fallen brother. You may do as you wish to me, but you shall not desecrate anyone else...”

The Angel never stopped smiling. In fact, now it only chuckled. “...Such a brave child too...in fact, you are almost...foolish...to offer yourself as a sacrificial lamb to powers you cannot even imagine...but humans are proud, are they not?...” The creature held-out a hand, and the hand suddenly bulged with horrific black tumors. They pulsated and flowed with blood, until they tore open. Tumors formed and tore up and down the body of the “Angel”, until all of the blood and pus began to form into an even larger being. Eight feet tall, with the head, arms, and torso of a woman, with a lower body covered in black tentacles, the creature was partially beautiful and partially hideous.

”Rejoice, Alexei Bancroft! You shall prove your humility and your worth by your beautiful death!”

Alexei arched his brows, and closed his eyes to mutter a prayer. His golden spear appeared before him, and he clenched it in his hands. “...Let the Father’s will be done...” he breathed, before he turned to face the powerful Tzimisce Elder.

The Elder rushed first, tentacles lashing like massive fraying power-lines at the Hunter Novice. Alexei quickly jumped out of the way, his dodging the opening attacks by the Elder. He jumped out of the way, rolled away, and parried the tentacles as they swung toward him. The Elder’s face was not impressed, but rather smug as Alexei struggled in the initial attack. Both were aware that this was merely child’s play, and that the worst was yet to come.

After several rounds, Alexei swung his spear to knock away the tentacles. He even grabbed a massive tentacle in his hand, and as the Elder swung him into the air, ready to toss him into sashimi, Alexei aimed his spear’s point toward the Elder’s chest, and aimed for the heart.

When the Elder realized Alexei was aiming for its chest, it moved out the way, angry that the boy was already aiming to kill it. It changed its form once again, becoming a massive, bull-like creature, with huge tendrils for tails. It still had a woman’s face and neck, now enraged, and it charged at Alexei, looking to gore the boy with its horns before he could attack him again.

The boy continued to dodge, moving from each side of the field as the Elder rushed him. He knew the monster was only trying to exhaust him, and kept his balance as he ran. He had to remain as composed as possible. ...A battle of stamina...almost like boxing...whoever tires first loses... he thought.

...Heheh...that’s correct, Alexei...

Alexei gasped, as the Tzimisce telepathically spoke to him. He froze in place, shocked. Had the Elder been reading all of his thoughts up to this point?...

Oh yes...you are such a thoughtful child...You think constantly. You calculate, compose strategies, correct yourself...so intelligent, for such a small child...Talk to me, Alexei. What shall you try next?... The Elder now stopped charging, and circled around him slowly, waiting for the Hunter to make a move.

Alexei knew now that he would have to hide his thoughts somehow. He set his mind to focus on a singular facet of the Elder’s appearance, in order to shut his mind off. The large ribcage of the Elder, once again. He backed away, and began to move counterclockwise, as the Elder walked around him. He held his spear close to his chest, shifting his eyes toward the bare spine of the creature, and then slowly turned the point of the spear toward it. He then ran toward the back, only to be paralyzed by something.

A hammering, cracking force worked its way into his chest, and he felt as though one of his ribs would burst into pieces. Holding back a scream, he clutched his chest, trying to make the pain go away. ...N-No!...This...this pain!...What is...

“Ahhh, do they not teach you of such power during your training? I can morph your fragile body like clay...I can turn you into anything my heart desires...or...anything your heart desires...”
The Elder changed back into the Angelic form it held before, bursting into light before reforming into the heavenly form. It approached Alexei, who was unable to move, and put a hand over the breaking rib. “All of those hard ribs, however...they make my work so much more difficult...once those disappear...I can shape you into anything...I could make you even more beautiful than anything you could imagine...”

“...Ngh...ghhh...gh!” Alexei whimpered, pulling away from the cruel Elder. He covered the rib, but his effort was useless. The rib broke, and he let out a scream of pain. “AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!”

“...My my, look at that face! Such pain! Such terror! You are shivering once again! Shall you not come back to me, and allow me to heal them?...”

Alexei panicked, as he heard the inviting voice again. He could not step near such a creature. The evil glowing off their body was immense. Disgusting. Wicked. Without another word, he turned and fled in the other direction, trying to find a way to defeat the Tzimisce Elder without moving too close.

The Elder casually followed him, smiling a carefree smile, as it watched Alexei cower and run. “...Do not run into the darkness, little one!...Trust me...you are safest with me...”

Alexei stopped running as he moved across the park and climbed into a tree. He panted silently, hiding his breath from the fiend below. His free hand held his spear. His rib throbbed and shrieked with pain in his chest, but he could not stop. Otherwise, he would die. He was certain of it. ...Perhaps...perhaps I am...afraid to die...

...Oh Alexei...

A branch broke beneath the boy, and he landed directly in front of the Elder, who had heard his thoughts. They took another form, that of a beautiful, eccentric young woman. Her dress was made entirely of pink roses, a sweetheart-collar ballgown with a huge petticoat made of hardened, black vines. She wore white gloves, and an elegant white hat made of roses and feathers. Her hair, skin, and eyes were all ivory-colored, and she wore midnight-colored lipstick. In her hands, she formed a rose-crown out of white flesh, and placed it in Alexei’s hair.

“...All humans are afraid of death...it is the fear of the unknown...that primal terror that comes from meeting God...or nothing at all...Eternal loneliness...” The woman pulled Alexei to his feet, and then suddenly kissed his forehead.

He pulled back, ignoring the pain in his chest as he felt mortified. This Elder was merely teasing him now. This terrifying, wicked being had kissed him, and he felt tainted. He wanted to scream, but the scream choked in his throat.

“...Have you never been in love before, child?...Have you never desired...the embrace of another?...I see it in your eyes...you wish for beauty...You find me wicked, but my form lovely...Not a single human can resist when they see true beauty...You do not wish to admit it...Your virgin heart says I am forbidden...” the Elder explained.

“...Stay back...” Alexei murmured, aiming his Spear at the Elder, “...I will not...surrender to you...”

“...Of course you won’t...good, valiant little Hunter...” She held-out another hand, and a second rib snapped in Alexei’s chest.

“GAAAAAAH!!!” Alexei held the second rib, and he felt himself wheezing. Had he punctured a lung? He could not tell. Tears rose to his eyes from the pain.

“...Yes, I know it hurts...I know...let me take away your pain, or you shall slowly succumb to your wounds...” the Elder whispered, holding out her arms to him.

Alexei stammered back once again, and rushed away. Holding his chest, he knew now that he had punctured a lung. He was wheezing and coughing, and his entire body ached. Despair began to seize him. He could not land a single hit on this monster. They merely toyed with him, playing with every chord and corner of his heart. Tears flowed freely now. He could not tell now if he was merely subjecting himself to an unnecessarily painful death, or if he was merely struggling to survive.

“...No...no, no, no, no...I have to...fight...I have to...defend...” He made his way across the street, but as he did so, another rib snapped in his chest. The pain caused him to trip, and he fell on his face, his spear next to him. “...No...no...”

“...Poor squirming little child...why do you continue?...” The woman walked behind him and watched him try to pull himself off the ground. “...Let me end this for you...you have proven yourself...I would love to keep you myself...to see what I could make, with your body as my stationary...I shall put you all back together, and you will be my favorite creation...”

“...I cannot...let you do that...” Alexei whispered, reaching for his spear.

Before he could grab it, however, a foot stepped on top of his weapon. Not the woman’s. The Elder had transformed again, this time into a very familiar sight. A tall, handsome man, with a tanned, rugged face, warm brown eyes, and messy dark-brown hair. He was dressed in a cloak similar to Alexei’s, and had a loving smile on his face.

Alexei gasped once again, a broken gasp full of sorrow and pain. He mumbled a single, desolate word in response.

“...Father...”

The Elder had taken the form it knew would cause Alexei the most pain. Standing over the broken body of the Hunter Novice was the Novice’s father himself, Conor Bancroft, just as he had appeared in life. In the silence that followed, a breeze passed, and the “Conor’s” cloak floated in the air behind him, giving him a countenance of clear superiority and triumph over his vastly weaker opponent.

“...Alexei...that is enough...” Conor’s voice spoke, and even as Alexei was entirely aware of who spoke to him, tears streamed down his cheeks as he heard the kind, firm voice. “...You need not fight anymore...I cannot stand to see you like this...” He held up a hand, and two more ribs shattered. Alexei writhed like a worm in pain on the ground, pathetic and beaten. “Conor”, in the meantime, watched with a slight smile. “...Do you see?...You are hurting yourself...You have lost five ribs...you will soon bleed-out...such a sad way to die, isn’t it?...”

One last time, Alexei struggled to his feet. He felt his body might break at any moment, and despair had soaked him through. His eyes were heavy with exhaustion, and the creeping shadows of death. “...No...I am...doing this for you...as you asked...” he mumbled.

“Conor’s” eyebrows knit with worry. “...I do not wish for you to die...I love you, Alexei...please...your eyes...they look nothing like that of the son I know...so bright and courageous...you have been run ragged...” Once more, the Elder held-out his arms to the boy. “...I will take it all away...you won’t feel a thing...that is...how much I love you...” he whispered.

Alexei had few options. If he ran again, the Elder would finish him. Even worse, he would continue this torture. He would turn him into Gerard. He stared at the spear, still under “Conor’s” foot, and then he turned to Conor. His eyes were dazed, and his vision was failing. He felt himself bleeding away inside. After some hesitation, he threw away his thoughts, and flung himself into the arms of his “father”. He held back a sob, but he did squeeze the Elder as hard as he could, burying his face in his shoulder.

“Conor” smiled, satisfied, and wrapped his arms around Alexei’s broken body. “...Yes...There now...that’s better...and soon, you won’t even remember this body...you’ll have a new one...even more beautiful...even more splendid...I am as excited as you, Alexei...”

“...I love you, Father...forgive me...” Alexei murmured.

As he whispered this, a surge of light shot through the body of the Elder. As though the light was fire, the Elder felt it and immediately moved back. He glared reproachfully at Alexei, trying to appeal to his loneliness. “How could you hurt your father like this?! After all I have done for you?!”

“Conor Bancroft is in Heaven! My Father is with God! And their wills shall be done!” Alexei declared, his hands clasped in prayer. He began to glow brightly, from his hair to his breastplate to robes. He reached for his spear, which was now free from the Elder’s foot, and held it in one hand. He then knelt to the ground, both hands around the base of the spear, and he prayed furiously. Tears flowed and fell to the concrete, as he became as bright and blinding as a star.

“NOOO! STOP THIS!!! YOU KNOW NOT WHAT YOU DO!!!” The Elder ran forward to seize Alexei, but made a fatal error in doing so. The light was extremely powerful, and boiling, fueled by Alexei’s absolute Faith and his love for his father. The skin on the Kindred’s body boiled away, and shot through the wicked creature like molten glass. The light quickly became so powerful that the Tzimisce was overwhelmed, and its body exploded into ashes.

Alexei did not even realize what he had done, when it happened. He had killed a centuries-old Elder, spurred only by his devotion to his father’s memory. Yet his body was weak, dying from the copious wounds it sustained. As soon as the Elder combusted and suffered its Final Death, Alexei released the light, and returned to his civilian form. Blood trickled from his mouth, and his eyes did not see. He merely slumped over, and his spear fell by his side with a clang.

To this day, he did not know how he had survived. The last thing he remembered from that night was the warm, seeming embrace of death, as he closed his eyes and fell unconscious...and the embrace of a mysterious being who found him, and carried him to safety...

Alexei felt the entire human spectrum of emotions. Love, loss, loneliness, despair, joy, rage, tension, desire...it all flashed back through him, and he felt her soft, deadly embrace. Her cold, velveteen hands. The poisonous kiss she had planted on his head. How weak he had been, and yet also...how strong. Somehow, he had survived that ordeal. But now, as Anna probed him and saw these things, ten years of deep wounds tore open, and he remembered why white roses frightened him so badly. As the vision ended, he was exhausted. If she looked through anymore memories, he was sure he would fall unconscious from terror.

[Kingdom of Irhk]

Outside Anna's Study

The Wolf's Den Crime Scene

The LAPD eyed the badge warily. But her supernatural guise was enough for their mortal eyes and the uniformed officer blocking them moved on. Giving them access to the crime scene. There they would see the burned rubble. Forensics combing through the wreckage to retrieve bones and possible evidence for the arson. Uniformed police officers walked the perimeter and walked dogs through the surrounding fields in search of additional evidence. Mainly that of a perpetrator. All that they would pick up though was numerous scents, human, and dog which is what a Garou would smell like anyways in their bestial form. Not that any of the police canines would be able to convey the difference to their human masters.

Connor Mac Domhnaill

The police officer was now behind them, but Connor's biggest enemy wasn't the LAPD at that moment: What Riyoko seemed to forget is that he was an Irishman, and would hardly pass as an American officer if he opened the mouth loudly enough for anyone to hear him. Nodding for her to head to a somewhat more seclude place, Connor walked calmly through the scene, looking around. Marks of big paws could be seen in and out of the bar: to the normal human analytical eye, those could be mistaken for wolf, or even dog paws, but Connor knew better: A battle happened there, and definitely it wasn't a friendly one between Garou.

"Riyoko, I need to speak lower because, you know, not American issues. But, see... we received a report that included gunfire, but I don't see a single bullet case here. And look at the paw marks around. I have some suspicions, but... check inside, see what you can find, or better saying, what you can't find. I bet that something is missing inside that place, and I also bet you are a better arsonist than I am, might know something about the fire."

[Imperialisium]

Anna's Study
Anna and Alexei

Anna's lips gradually bowed as the imagery in Alexei's mind played out for her. Replaying in his mind as if it was his first time witnessing those events. That was how traumatic and visceral it seemed to him. Even though to any onlookers in the room they would just see Anna's hand clutching Alexei's skull. The ends of her lip moved upwards in a smirk. Then a smile. Finally as it became apparent what had transpired between Alexei and the Tzimisce Elder it was a devilish grin. She had seen Alexei's life played out before her like a film. Passages of a book to be scrutinized and examined. She pierced the final barriers of Alexei's mind and now grasped the entirety of the young man's existence in her palm. All of his tribulations and fears were unable to hide from her gaze as she learned all there was to know about Alexei from his own point of view. Every moment she could find in that unfettered and free mind no longer constrained by the psychic walls imposed by Silvanus. Though, she must compliment his handiwork. It would have kept out any lesser for months if not years before they could crack the mental defenses in place. But she was no lesser kindred and had much experience in the esoteric arts of the psyche.

She released her hold on Alexei's head and licked the blood off the tips of her fingers. "My, my. The truths you've shown me are quite interesting. But I cannot let you leave here free now can I? After what you have seen and the danger you could potentially pose. No, no that simply will not do." Her grin held as she sliced a small part of her wrist with a nail from her other hand. She grasped Alexei's jaw violently. With enough force to bruise the skin. She forced his jaw open with his grip and she held her arm over his face. Blood dripped into his open maw until it was a suitable amount and then she closed his mouth forcefully. "Brutus. If you please." she said. The hulking stone gargoyle nodded, "Yes mum." With hands of incredible strength he held Alexei's mouth closed. Forcing him to swallow every last drop of the vitae.

She took a bowl from a nearby cupboard and let more of her blood trickle into the vessel. "Bring me Lord Silvanus and the other intruder." said Anna. The vampires in the room, a motley assortment of every Clan as this was the Court of the Prince and at all hours of the night it teemed with those of Cainite society in Los Angeles, looked to the doors as a pair of Tremere fledglings opened the doors. Kai, Anna's main administrative aide-de-camp moved out a couple steps before turning around.

"Your Grace. Primogen Bulehard is here as well." said Kai rather nervously. Undoubtedly embarrassed by the timing of events to not have announced Bulehard's presence earlier. Anna cocked an eyebrow. "Let him in as well." Kai bowed and turned on his heel to beckon Bulehard and Silvanus into the study. Anna's favored place of holding Court.

Meanwhile a pair of Gargoyles disappeared into the sublevels. Moving down to Mikhailovs cell they opened with a key and with inhuman speed grasped him by the arms. Their grips where titanic and they hoisted Mikhailov up off the ground like he was a pillow. His feet dangled under him and his shoulders burned from the entire weight of his body now being put upon them as they carried him out of the sublevel and into the study. Throwing him on the floor next to the couch where Alexei sat. They made sure to toss him in such a manner that he would land face first in humility. Anna did not look at Mikhailov as he arrived and only said, "If you move, you die painfully, if you stay where you are. You may just leave alive." Anna turned to the gargoyles that brought in Mikhailov, "Open his mouth," she commanded. One gargoyle forced Mikhailov to sit up and held him there while a second forced open his mouth painfully. Anna walked over with the small bowl and poured some of its contents into his mouth. The gargoyles forced his mouth shut as well. Alexei could only watch as what was done to him was done to Mikhailov as well. Albeit with more of a struggle.

[New Minahasa]

Mortimer

Business had been going well for Mortimer and his "colleagues" as the agency expanded its reach and connections throughout Los Angeles. The main office for the agency, the Mothman Central Building, was filled with guests as an invitational-only party was held in the building's ballroom. CEOs, Pentex executives, business partners, even actors and politicians were all invited to attend the gala. After all, there was really no better way to celebrate. Above them, however, was the penthouse. No one could go in or out without being monitored by security cameras and wary armed men guarding the entrance.

The gala was just a ruse, a way for Mortimer to invite that many Pentex executives into his building without looking too suspicious. The more important people in Pentex, those that were operating within the Los Angeles area, were called for a meeting inside the penthouse. The presence of the debauched, the corrupted, the filths of the planet emanated a strong but dark aura from inside the room. These people were equal to the illuminati; a small group of men with unpreceded power that could AND would do anything to expand their already massive influence.

"Good afternoon, gentlemen. Excuse my delay and please, take a seat," greeted Mortimer as he entered the room, promptly adjusting his expensive suit before taking a seat at the head of the table. "Now, I've invited all of you here for a specific reason. Anyone here has a word or two before I start?," he said as he glared at each person ahead of him, all of them remaining silent and just starting directly at him. "All right. Now," he paused and snapped his fingers as his secretary brought forth a roll of paper, which turned out to be a map of Los Angeles.

There were small, varying colours of dots on the map, each colour representing something different. "The agency has been looking to expand lately, but our efforts were unfortunately taken to an abrupt end." He moved a finger over to what appeared to be a red line. "This is our border, and everything beyond it is Camarilla territory. Now I'm a man of actions, but I know the board needs a say on this before I continue. Th-,"

His words were cut short by another man, significantly older than he was. "We can't risk a war with the vampires. Their influence over the city was big enough, and it got even bigger when the Sabbat took flight. I'm sure the other board members agree with me," spoke the man as the other elderly men nodded in agreement. "You didn't let me finish. The Camarilla's a major power, yes, but we still got the Anarchs lurking about," Mortimer remarked. "The Anarchs are nothing but a bunch of rabble. What are you expecting to do with those mongrels?," yet spoke another of the board member.

"Invest," said Mortimer. The elderly men looked at each other at first, before directing their attention back to him. "If someone could reorganize the Anarchs back in one piece, they could potentially cause major havoc against the Camarilla. We can wage war against them without having to do the job. Let the blood-sucking bastards murder each other, until there's nothing but us left," Mortimer stated, his face full of confidence. He grabbed onto a clipboard and passed it around. The board members were hesitant at first, but each began to sign eventually, seeing the fruit in his plan.

"A risky scheme. You know if the Anarchs got into one piece and slipped out of your grasp, that's gonna be another major problem for us, right?," asked one of the elders. "Oh, I'm aware," said Mortimer as he sipped on a glass of champagne. The last board member gave his sign and was about to give the clipboard back to Mortimer but halted mid-air. "You know the repercussions. Don't let the board down," he said before finally passing the clipboard. "When have I ever done that?," Mortimer remarked.

Not long after, agency members began their mass investigation. Intel of the remaining Anarchs were looked into and passed around, ranging from their previous leadership to the current local acting leaders of the disorganized and separated Anarch groups all across Los Angeles.