Brujah/Gangrel

[Queen of Hearts]

Marek/Edwin: Clint
Liz/Kass: Alice


Marek:

A freakishly large chopper pulled to the curb lined with an assortment of other motorcycles on either side outside a seedy dive bar that had long since ago fell into disrepair. A goliath man dismounted the bike and pulled a large cane from a leather sheath mounted to the side of the bike before readjusting the wide-brimmed hat and walking to the door. A few large bikers standing outside the bar acting as lookouts grew wide eyed at the behemoth in their midst and dared not say anything or deny him entry. Placing a hand on the old wooden door, he opened it causing tobacco smoke to billow out as the music from the live band behind a chicken wire fence surrounding the stage played Blitzkrieg Bop over the shouting of the rowdy assortment of men and women therein. The dim lights only added to the mystery of the new man in the bar as he walked over to the bar and nodded to the barkeeper as though they knew each other. The barkeeper said nothing, but glanced to a woman shooting pool in the corner to indicate that was her. With a departing nod, the giant pulled a cigar from his coat pocket and lit it with a match. Holding it between his fingers, it looked comically small as though at a distance he might be mistaken for a normal man holding a cigarette.

The sawdust under his feet shifted with each step as he cross the room towards her. A particularly large man, wanting to showcase his strength and testicular fortitude to his friends, stood up in front of Marek to block his advance towards the woman. Tilting his head as though to inquire the meaning of this interruption, the man’s breath stank of beer and the pickled eggs he had been eating from the jar on the table as he spouted off about Marek and not being scared of him. Chuckling, Marek flicked the ash from the end of the cigar to the sawdust floor before a deep and graveled voice answered out

“Not scared of me Scooter? That’s good. Tells me two things. One, you know there is someone in here that can take me down” As the mortal inhaled to stick out his chest as though Marek was complimenting him, Marek’s dead gaze did not even flinch as he continued “Two, you are ignorant enough to think that person is you” And with that the woman that had been shooting billiards in the far corner had, unbeknownst to the rest of the group, had walked up behind the equally large man and cracked the pool stick over his collarbone. Hearing the sickening sound of the bone snap and the man’s head fall to the side quickly as he fell to his knees, the splintered wood of the broken cue flew all over Marek. Beginning to pick the splinters from his beard, he saw she was only getting warmed up as she dropped the stick and backhanded one of the man’s friends attempting to stand to the aid of their fallen companion. The soft part of his face exploded in a rather unbecoming scream as he flew back in his chair to the ground. The others, sensing she was not finished, held their seats so as not to aggravate her further.

Chuckling at the display of raw power from a woman that appeared toned but not fit enough to take out to large men, Marek reached down and grabbed the large man by his broken collar bone and easily lifted him to his feet. Staring at the man, he said nothing for what might have seemed an eternity as the band had stopped playing and no sounds echoed form the club. Clearing his throat, Marek exhaled the smoke that had accumulated in his lings from inhaling on the cigar as he looked up enough for the man to see his devilish eyes.

“See there Scooter. You now met the one person in this damned place that even I wouldn’t fuck with. See, we are a gang of two. Hellcat Bob. Hi, I’m Bob…guess you already know what that makes her.” The mocking tones in his voice caused the bartender to laugh and shake his head as he went back to serving drinks. And the man was in sheer agony of being grasped by the broken collarbone, Marek continued. “See, despite how it looks, she’s the brawn of our little club. Now you might think about going to get that looked at.” Squeezing to emphasize that is was time for them to leave, the man’s knees buckled again but remained held firmly in place by Marek. “Now”

Releasing the man, the remaining members of their little gang gathered up the fallen and departed the bar quickly as the band started up where they had left off. Looking over to the woman, he chuckled to the Brujah “God damn Squirt, you ain't changed a bit”

Liz:

Leaning slightly across the table, her whole being was focused on the citrus colored five ball, plotting its path as she lined up the shot. Fortunately for them, none of the watchers dared make a comment about her laying across that table in any fashion. Smart words around Liz could be detrimental to her health and most seemed to glean this pretty quickly although there were those that had to be taught the lesson from time to time. The cue was pulled back slightly and then she suddenly felt the complete shifting of attention away from the table towards the bar, and she glanced up to the biker in front of her and he was watching a mountain of a man wander towards the table. A smirk twisted her lip and she took a step back from the table, plucking her cigarette from the ashtray at the corner and was about to call out something suitably insulting to the giant when some mentally deficient person decided to get in the vampire’s face. Her hair trigger temper was released upon the moron for getting in her friends face and she casually walked over, the crowd parting like the read sea for her, while the boys were having their pissing contest and without saying a word, smashed her cue stick into him. Hearing the rewarding snap of bone, she laughed and put her fist through the face of the guy who had acted before he thought to defend his friend, she looked around for more, looking slight disappointed when the rest proved to be smarter than their comrades.

As the behemoth lifted the guy by his injury, Liz pulled out the smoke from the corner of her mouth that had not become displaced during the entertainment and took a deep drag, exhaling it calmly , displaying amusement at the ‘Hellcat’ reference, winking at one of the onlookers who cast a startled glance at her as the most muscular man he’d ever seen in his life told the bar at large that she was tougher than he was. The clique of bravados cast her a terrified glance as they slunk out of the bar with their tails between their legs and Liz blew kisses at them, unable to hide her laughter any more. “Damn, that was fun,” she said to no one in particular, the exotic flavor to her voice the only clue to her native land, then lifted her glance fondly, craning her neck to meet the eyes of the trouble maker. “Can’t improve upon perfection,” she retorted to Marek, pushing off from the wall she had come to lean against, post mini-melee, and flicking her cigarette into the crowd at random. She sauntered to the man who dwarfed her in size, she looked like a child next to him, and clasped his hand tightly, grinning up at him. “Well, shit, son, look what the cat dragged in,” she shook her head and laughed. “Been too long,” she told him affectionately, then glanced around, the entire place still staring in silence at them. One eyebrow ticked upwards and her expression lost its amusement, and suddenly everyone in the place were extremely interested in their respective drinks. Snorting, she glanced to the band who swiftly readied their instruments and began playing her song. Humming along with the strains of the Lita Ford song, she pulled a few twenties from her bra and tossed it to the guy she had been playing pool against. “Game’s yours, bubba,” she told him with a smirk.

Catching Marek’s eye, she glanced towards the front door, it was all together too easy to listen in one of these places and wasn’t likely he came seeking her just cause he missed her sparkling personality. Nodding to the bartender once, she led the way through the crowd, smirking as it parted for her and pushed out through the door. Chin tilted up to catch the cooler night air, she sang softy to herself. “And I know what you like. I know you like dancing with me.” Walking straight towards his bike, she perched her small frame upon it, pulling out a fresh smoke and tilting her head light it. Stretching herself in a mockery of a suggestive position upon his chopper, she smirked way up at him. “So what brings you all the way out here, peacock?” Amused at herself for the little nickname, figuring he would not get the joke, her thoughts drifted to her youth and the studying of religions she had done early on in her university studies. Liz snorted a bitter laugh for the naïve girl she’d been then. Thank goodness for that attack on the campus while she was there. Once she had healed from that, she began studying weapons, joined the army and had fought for her cause, eventually ending up in the states on an espionage mission for her cause. She’d never left alive.

Her attention was caught suddenly and her head whipped around, one of her guns finding its way to hand, the muzzle steady as she regarded the trio of men who had crept around the corner of the building. Snorting, she shook her head. “You morons never learn, do you?” Asked in a derisive tone of voice as she recognized the rest of the gang that had been spared the drubbing that their leader and second had a few moments ago. Rolling her eyes, she slowly pulled out a second gun with her free hand, her eyes never blinking and her aim never moving. “Now listen, you get your dumb asses out of here before you end up in a body bag. I ain’t gunna tell you twice.” Liz tilted her head, considering, then added, “And don’t come back here. I don’t like retards. I see you again and you’re dead. I -will- shoot on sight.” She waited patiently while they considered and then slunk away, waiting for a good five minutes before lovingly reholstering her pistols. Patting them softly, she returned her attention to the big man at her side.

[Queen of Hearts]

Marek:

Being led outside from the dive bar, Marek chuckled but did not bother looking around knowing that everyone held the same sideways glance at the two as though wondering what would happen next, but did not want to incur her wrath by openly staring at them departing the bar. Ducking his head to clear the doorway as he exited, the cool air of the night bathed his flesh while his eyes watched her walk with a commanding stride to his bike and erotically posing thereon. Casting a gaze to his left, the men standing lookout near the door were doing their best not to stare at her lithe yet athletic form suggestively dominating Marek’s chopper. The corner of his lip upturned in an amused smirk as he indeed noted she had not changed in the least. She was overtly enticing men around her hoping to bait one into saying something so she could feel the trill of battle again as the first fight of her evening had ended far to soon for her liking. Placing the cigar between his fanged teeth, he held it there as he again spoke while a few gearheads worked on a bike a few meters away

“One of these days I am going to figure you out Liz. Peacock? You always did…” Seeing her interest piqued, he glanced over his shoulder hearing her pistols clearing the holster as the three had again come back as though they wanted a go at her for systematically their quintet of manliness. Shaking his head at the ignorance of human testosterone, he did not bother pulling his own hand canon as Liz used Marek as a giant shield knowing his body would resist the bullets should they be armed. Feeling her arms resting against his side as her weapons were aimed, an ominous growl echoed from the shadows across the street in an alleyway where three black English mastiffs stepped forth and watched the trio. Glancing to the mastiffs as though to indicate they should stay back, Marek looked down to the woman using him as a shield while her gaze was on the three hoping one would engage her in battle. “Well maybe some things do change. That is the first warning I have ever heard you give a man before acting. Could it be my Kitten has grown up?”

As the trio beat a hasty retreat around the corner and she eventually reholstered her pistols, he pulled the cigar from his lips as her unique scent of tobacco, gunpowder, and blood lingered about his senses. Walking over to his chopper, he placed the cane back into the holster mounted to the bike before turning around to her again. “Yeah, I figured I’d head out here for a bit after I got word this was where you were. Truth is, those two Ravnos smugglers were seen not far from here. I was trying to run into them…but they are slippery little bastards” Nearly spitting the word Ravnos from his mouth, his distaste for the clan was well known…but then the Gangrel had always hated the Ravnos and their gypsy ways. “How long you been here Peanut? Made any connections that might prove useful?” Reaching out and taking up her forearm in his hand, he placed his thumb over the area where her trademark tattoo from the holocaust lay still stamped on her flesh. He was one of maybe a handful of people that even knew about it…for he had been with her at the same time being a Polish Jew at the beginning of Hitler’s dark reign. He too still had the numbers on his forearm, yet he had hidden them cleverly with a tattoo of a barcode above it so people would think it was simply a series of random numbers on but one of the many tattoos that made up his full sleeves.

Liz:

A derisive snort. “You’ll never figure me out, angelface.” She smirked up at him, still using her body as a weapon to taunt the random onlooker as they might pass in or out of the door to the bar. A short laugh followed his question and she indicated her figure. “Don’t I look all grown up to you?” Becoming serious a moment, she shrugged, “They’re not worth the effort really.” Liz yawned a bit. “I’m bored with this place.” Idly watching as he put the cane away in its place, she sat bolt upright, the assumed siren’s manner dropped and she growled low in her throat as he mentioned the damned gypsies. She let out a string of invective that would make a sailor blush involving several anatomically impossible probabilities before she ran out of steam. Nodding a bit, she calmed herself, her voice tight with ire now, “Yeah, actually, managed to have a little chat with one o the uglies t’other day. Nothing particularly useful. He damned well didn’t tell me that trash was in -my- neighborhood.” Her tone promised retribution for the oversight by the Nos. She lifted her eyes to Malek’s intently, “You think they’re supplying to the enemy?” The enemy meaning only one thing to her, a glance at his hand upon her always hidden tattoo, then the flick of her gaze to his own matching badge of the time in the camps. She would always be a freedom fighter for the Jewish people, and right now they needed all the help they could get as the rest of the surrounding area of the promised land banded together.

The remembrance of the helplessness of her childhood against the evil regimes made her temper snap, though not at him, at the bastards who dared provide other with the means to hurt her people, though she did pull her arm from his grasp roughly, but not as forcefully as she could. She knew he understood and had that tie too, but she did not like being reminded of her own failures. She snarled a bit to herself, the sound apparently attracting the attention of the dogs because they all moved towards her, the woman brightening. “Oh, the puppies!” Her mood shifting for the moment, she hopped lightly from the motorcycle and met the massive canines halfway, her attachment to them, while not near the level of those to their master was still quite fond and she barely had to band to wrap an arm around the pack leader’s neck, scratching behind his ear and ruffling his fur. “Good to see you boy,” she said to the mastiff, then gave each one some time as they swirled around her. For she was pack in her own way, not like Malek but more like that favorite aunt that dropped by from time to time to put it in human terms.

After a few moments of romping with the “puppies”, she returned to her friend, straddling the bike and scooting herself backwards to the back of the seat. The Brujah female glanced up at Marek impatiently. “Well? Lets get going.” A firm nod of her head then she muttered angrily. “No way I’m letting those goddamn gypsies get by me without teaching them a lesson.” She growled a few swear words. “Assholes chose to be on the wrong side, its time they paid the price.” She cracked her knuckles and glowered off into the distance, recalling the last time she’d had a run in with the smugglers. Liz -still- had no clue how she’d ended up in the fucking Arizona desert that time. Or where her clothes had gone. Course she -had- taken them on alone that time, and she darted a glare to Marek just -daring- him to bring up that incident, she would not be so gentle were he to bring it up. This time though, with her and the giant and the puppies, they could bury those motherfuckers, or better yet, leave ‘em staked in the sun. Though she’d kinda rather take ‘em apart piece by piece with her bare hands.

Marek:

The music from the house band continued to play as the beat carried through the walls of the bar to the street. Every once in a while, another group of bikes would pull up, and the bikers would compare bikes and modifications, yet Marek and Liz went relatively unbothered though not unnoticed. Keen ears picked up every whispered inquiry from the humans as they speculated who this large man was and how he knew Liz. The beat of the music changed as the band began to play an old Black Sabbath song, yet they butchered it wretchedly as the lead singer sounded nothing like Ozzy. Flicking the ash again, he had learned long ago that smoking was a great way to remember to breath…a tell-tale sign of a vampire as they did not need to breath and would often forget to draw breath thereby catching the attention of any hunters in the area. All a hunter had to do to find a vampire was watch for a chest rise and fall to know if someone was a vampire as many forgot such subtle hints spoke volumes to trained eyes.

Her voice was one not of beauty as might be thought of in the myths of vampirism, but rather one of any other young woman. She did well in masking her true age by adapting to the local ‘isms’ of other humans her age. Truly she was a master of the masquerade’s art form of blending. Yet even in this, he could not help but be attracted to the danger’s edge about her very presence. One never knew if by being around her they were headed for glory or the grave….but then perhaps that was the unsaid attraction to his Brujah. The Unknown. His eyes, always on the hunt, broke from her gaze occasionally as though lazily traversing the area, though in truth trained eyes drank in every image and every shadows lurking on the edge of light’s castings for signs of adversary. The leather outfit he wore creaked slightly as he shifted his weight causing the scuffing of his boots to sound out on the asphalt next to his bike. A malfunctioning streetlight near them buzzed as it flickered intermittently on and off giving hint that city workers rarely risked coming to this neighborhood, even in the daylight hours. And not that one would notice at first unless they were actively watching, but even the police rarely came down here on routine patrol. When they were called down here, they arrived with S.W.A.T. support. No, around here, street justice was the call of order. They took care of problems themselves as a community while survival of the fittest was never so apparent as in a place such as this.

Chuckling at the long string of profanities spewing from her pursed lips, he nodded as she inquired as to if they were in her neighborhood. His graveled voice sounded out in reply “That’s what I heard. But these two are hard to keep up with. Half of what you hear is rumor, and the other half is two days to late. It is the Romanians.” Knowing she had been on the look out for these particular two for a while as they had been rumored to even supply Nazi spies with weapons during World War 2 and later supplied to the communists when they took over Romania, he continued “As far as who they are supplying, I doubt they bother checking references on the Department of Homeland Security website before selling. I have no doubt they would sell to the Sabbat. But getting a hold of them is not unlike trying to catch flies with a hula hoop.”

As she gathered herself and sat on the bike impatiently, he grinning knowing just what she was thinking about….Arizona. Unable to resist the jab of her losing her close, he nodded to her impatience. “Alright alright. Keep your shirt on. I mean, there is no need to co getting your panties in a wad and dropping your pants I’m coming.” With a motion of is hands, the three dogs returned to the shadows at a lazy trot while he reached over and pushed her forward on the seat indicating she should drive. Tossing a leg over the back, he rode bitch as she started up the bike “You drive, I ride. This is your neighborhood. I don’t know anyone. And I damn sure don’t know where the nossie’s keep them damned selves.”

Edwin:

Slinking about in the shadows of a cemetery, the Nosferatu’s deformed appearance was masked from sight as he scooped up a rat and drank greedily from it. Removing his fangs from the creature, his eyes traversed the crypts that surrounded him before he slunk back to a tomb that served as his makeshift layer. Christmas lights illuminated the stone walls and a single computer terminal cast off an electronic glow as he sat down in front of it. How exactly he had been able to connect to the internet in this remote location was a feat that only another Nossie would know. Deformed fingers stroked the keys and pulled up a database that was nothing more than unintelligible symbols to anyone but a nosferatu that might happen upon the public domain site. Reading the latest blog entries, he shook his head as a slimy voice hisses “Oh fuck...they’re together again….and here

Moving to the opening of the tomb, he licked the stone door from the inside knowing this would be their next stop. Careful to make it look as though the tomb had been abandoned for years, he turned out all the lights, turned off the monitor and unplugged the CPU, and began to undo the fasteners to the secret escape tunnel in the back of the tomb that led underground. The garbage around the tomb’s floor rustled under his feet as he stepped over the different phone books, various bills, and a plethora of other information that he had been slowly adding to the database. Scratching at the festering boils about his neck and hands, it was a nervous habit he had developed over the years at times of stress.

[Queen of Hearts]

Liz:

“The -fucking- Romanians,” she repeated, her hand clenching in fury, then blinking at the mangles lump of metal that had been a knife, not eve recalling pulling it out. Shrugging, she tossed it away, ignoring the random pockets of bikers here and there, only paying attention if one stared too long. Then she would meet the gaze, hard edged and unblinking until he dropped his. Her attention was diverted by the cracks about her unfortunate desert interlude and she glowered at Malek, “You shut your hole, dammit.” She would have gone on at length but a group of chick bikers pulled in and Liz glanced them over, nodding with a smile and even winking at the group’s leader, a butch blonde. They exchanged the type of significant glances that women usually do, the blonde’s eyes flicking to Malek questioningly, Liz shaking her head briefly. A smirk and a mimed kiss from the blonde and then she led her crew into the bar. Without saying a word about the woman to the massive hulk she was with, Liz nodded and let him get settled in, before straddling the massive machine and letting it roar to life. Laughing softly, she kicked it into gear, taking off swiftly, simply enjoying the ride a few moment, kicking it up to a high speed and weaving through the scant traffic recklessly.

Grinning fiercely as she heard the sound of sirens kicking up, she revved the bike higher, easily outrunning the human police, leaving them far behind as she whipped through town, then to the outskirts, making her way to a certain cemetery, pulling past it, then parking the bike in an old run down shopping mall, just down the road. Killing the ignition, she hopped from the bike, tossing the keys to her gangrel companion, then glanced in the direction of the graveyard. “:Send the puppies around to find him but don’t let them get to close, just pinpoint where he is.” Barking order came naturally to her, one of the many reasons she had risen so fast in the various militant organizations that she had been a part of through her life and unlife. Impatiently waiting as he sent the surprisingly silent dogs out for their reconnaissance, she cautiously made her way down the street towards the main entrance, sending him to the caretaker’s entrance off to the side of the place. Fortunately, the fence wasn’t electrified in any fashion, who’d want to extend that much protection to the -dead- after all? And she easily hopped the main gate, landing almost silently upon the other side, glancing around. She had a vague idea of where the Nos might be hiding and crept that way. Best way to get the most information out of the damned uglies was to catch them off guard. And keep ‘em there.

Her guess had been right and she smirked as she caught some recent signs of a passage through here, not something that your normal persona, ever normal vampire might notice, the edge of a foot shape still glistening as the mud squished up by the step had not been dehydrated. She came around a bend, catching sight of the pack leader, nosing a rat corpse, then Malek as he appeared from cover that she would have sworn was impossible to hide anything that size in. Jerking her chin towards the tomb to the east of them, Liz stepped forward, grabbing the stone that blocked the opening and simply lifting it up and away, tossing it to the grass. Quickly her eyes adjusted themselves to the gloom of the interior and a movement and a glimmer of light along pale skin let her sight her target and she jumped in, grabbing the hapless creepy by the clothing rather than touching his skin and hauling him out into the night air, dropping him at Malek’s feet, the things that had been in his arms spilling onto the ground.

Liz crouched down, head tilting and picking up one of the notebook, she thumbed through it a minute. “Say, Edwin,” she began, her tone sweet as antifreeze, “What’s all this?” She glanced significantly at the hastily gathered materials and the half unfastened escape hatch creaking a bit in the wake of its owner’s removal. “Gee, I -do- hope that you weren’t running out on us.” She pursed her lips and shook her head sadly at the Nosferatu. “And I thought we were friends!” She stood up and took a step back from him, her eyes never leaving the creature’s while she lit up a smoke, exhaling casually and then crossing her arms, eyes piercing him. “Because if you had decided not to do business with me, well then,” her look got very hard and she pierced him with it, “that might make me angry.” She lifted the male from the ground by the collar of the rags that passed for his clothing and pulled him up to hold his face near hers. “And you wouldn’t like me when I’m angry.” Extending her arm straight out, and then dropping him unceremoniously from the height, she flicked the smoke and then continued causally. “Now, first your going to tell us all you know about the Romanians, and then, you and I are going to have a chat about -why- you chose not to mention it to me in the first place.”

Marek:

Chuckling at the display with the mortal biker chick, he shook his head at Liz’s brash behavior before she kicked the chopper to life. The rumble of the bike between his legs was a familiar feeling that appealed to his very core. Every stroke of the powerful engine sounded out with the underlying tones of freedom to him as there were few things left in this country that sounded of untethered freedom from conformity like the sound of a motorcycle engine. Placing his hands on either side of her feminine waist, the large fingers were almost able to connect all the way around her athletic form. Leaning forward on the bike as she throttled the engine and took off into the night, his lips were merely hairs from her ears as the deep voice encroached over the roar of the engine while stating “I’m not so worried about falling off as I was wanting to cop a feel” Chuckling to himself as he leaned back, he was suddenly glad she had a shorter haircut these nights as it kept him from having to fight to keep her hair out of his face as the wind blew his own long locks hazardously about behind him.

Looking over her head to the city streets as they rolled past beneath the wheels of the bike, he chuckled as obviously she had not lost her taste for high speeds over the years. Wondering why it was that she always allowed him to speak to her in such a way over the years having witnessed her systematically removing the limbs of others for lesser offenses, he dwelt not long on this pondering as he noticed the city take on a different view as they drove out of the bad parts of the city and entered a more domicile area where normal people wandered the streets without looking over their shoulders, police gave directions and parking tickets, and windows bore no bars. Allowing her to lean into the turns as she expertly navigated the streets at the high rate of speed, he noted that the city spread out even more the further they traveled until the wrought iron gates of a cemetery looked in the near distance and approached quickly at their present speed. Flicking the spent cigar over his shoulder carelessly, he released his grasp on her waist and balanced with his legs on the pegs as he pulled his hair behind himself and fastened it with a newspaper rubber band that was around his wrist as he grew tired of fighting the wind to keep his hair out of his face. Readjusting the large skull belt buckle as it dug into his abdomen, the Gangrel giant shook his head at the irony before leaning forward and speaking over the roar of the engine again “How pathetic would it be to use up all my stores of blood on fortitude and enter torpor while riding bitch on my own bike to keep this damned belt buckle from pinching me? What a manly way to go. The vampire obituaries would read ‘Shrugs off countless bullets over the years to be undone by a metal belt buckle. He is survived by Buddy, a five year old golden retriever, and Lady, an eight year old cocker spaniel’.”

As the chopper pulled to a stop in the shopping center, Marek took up the cane from the holster on the bike and nodded understanding before he tried to mimic Montgomery Burns from the Simpsons in a wry attempt at humor “Release the hounds” And with that they were sniffing around the graveyard in circles trying to pick up on the scents of the Nossie only to find the rat at first. Yet they were confused easily as the Nossie was more than adapt at staying hidden it would seem. Seeing her stealthily leap over the fence and land on the other side, he chuckled slightly before reaching out to the fence and ripping the chain noisily from the metal before entering the cemetery. Getting a warning glance from her about his voice disciple as he emerged from the shadows near her, he shrugged and said sagely “That creepy bitch knows we are here already. Wouldn’t be much of a Nossie if he didn’t. Seeing her walking towards a tomb and open it, his eyebrows raise impressed with her tracking abilities as they obviously rivaled his own. Entering the cavernous tomb, he had no sooner ducked his head and entered than the form of the Nossie was thrown to at his feet. Placing a foot on the chest of the Nossie, he looked up to the Brujah “Really Liz, is all this necessary? He obviously wanted to be found. I swear woman, sometimes I wonder if you react and then look back to figure out a plan. Maybe he…” But before he could continue his protest, she had reached over and began manhandling the Nossie again before peppering him with threats

Edwin:

Hearing the ominous roar of a motorcycle shatter the silence of the cemetery as it drove past, Alden looked at the walls of the tomb while they seemed to almost tremble from the reverberations of the engine as much as he in the knowledge of whom had just drove by outside the tomb. Mouthing the words ‘Fuck me’ to maintain silence hoping the two would see no sign of him and leave, he stood motionless for what might be mistaken for an eternity in the close confines of his “office” as he heard the steady sniffing of the large canines outside the tomb trying to track him. At least he thought he was motionless. The entire time, he was scratching the invisible, imaginary itch on his wrist causing the boil to burst beneath his fingertip and a dark blood rise to the surface to scab the wound. The scent of his blood hung in the air as he closed his eyes realizing what he had just unintentionally done. The ever so silent drip of black blood landed on a piece of crumpled paper and sounded to him as loudly as though it were a hubcap dropped on a tin roof just as the dogs found the corpse of the rat in the corner of the cemetery. It was a well known fact that Nossies were impossible to find lest they wanted to be found...unless of course they were so unlucky as to give hint of their presence. And tonight, it would seem, he has just that unlucky. After all, she had been here before and knew of his ‘office’

He had met with the Brujah many times before, but he was les than willing to meet the two together. Dealing with one of them was bad enough...but both of them? He was not sure if he was ready for this sort of unshackled hell. ‘Though” he thought to himself ‘with two there would be a higher price for information…if I last that long’ Could he have obscured their vision to remain hidden? Yes. But realizing the potential reward they were willing to fork over for information made it to tempting an offer to simply run from. But before he could make up his mind to stay or go, the stone of the tomb was pulled away and a dark form rushed in and grasped him by the aged and dirty clothes before he felt the sensation of weightlessness as he was tossed effortlessly across the tomb. Feeling a large boot on his chest, he stated in reply to Marek’s question to the brujah known to him as Liz “No, it is most definitely not necess….” To late. He felt himself being lifted up again by Liz as her cold breath bathed his flesh with each passing word. Hastily he replied to her questions. “No, no, don’t be silly Liz. I was not running. I was just trying to, um, spruce up the office before company arrived. You know how it is. Receiving company and having no clean tea cups.” Yet his humor did not seem to amuse her as she was obviously hell bent on another damned ideological crusade of mayhem. “Ravnos? Here? Are you sure?” His expression changed as he brushed his hands from her and tried to straighten the awkwardly sized suit he wore about his deformed body. Knowing he held all the cards of knowledge, and she needed him for information, he fired back agitatedly “You should listen to the dog, he’s right. I have information you need. At least he has a measure of manners” Looking to Marek, he noticed the large vampire only snarled in retort as his slithering voice broke the silence again “Or not. Ok look…the reason I did not tell you Liz is that I was not about to be the one within swinging distance when you learned they were here. I knew it was but a matter of time before you found out and came here. But I would far rather deal with you after you had time to cool down than be the barer of bad news. And in light of what just happened when you were not pissed off...could you blame me?” motioning to the piles of papers and disks he had been carrying scattered now on the ground, he continued ”Yes, I know about them. But as with anything in life, it comes at a price…and seeing you like this, the price is going to be expensive. You want to know about the Romanians? Fine, I want a vile of Tremere blood. Something aged...none of that neonate shit. Bring me the blood, and I will tell you everything you need to know about the Ravnos. Deal?”

[Queen of Hearts]

Liz:

Ignoring the multitude of smart comments Marek never seemed to run out of, she spared a moment to wonder why the hell she put up with his crap. Any other dude and she’d’ve snapped him in half. Growing bored after like five seconds of introspection, she continued on ignoring his attempts at humor. He wasn’t very funny to begin with and she was too irked by the Nos even if he had been remotely funny. React and then look for a plan? She snorted. Plans were for people who never got things done. Well, sometimes she needed a plan but hell those always feel apart like five seconds after they were put into motion anyhow. Angrily she glared at the Nosferatu as he sputtered his responses to her question, her eyes narrowed as he obviously was trying to see her some of his typical bullshit and she gave a disgusted sound as the slimy bastard tried to be funny with her. She crossed her arms and stared at him unblinking, watching him pretend at some measure of vanity, brushing and straightening his clothing. Liz didn’t see any difference in the end result. Knowing she was at hair trigger, she took a step back, deferring to Marek in a small measure. Sure, she was headstrong and temperamental, but she was rare in that she knew that she was a loose cannon at times. She had learned that sometimes a calmer approach was necessary, and although she could not do it, Marek could. So she let him take care of the Nos, although the rat continued to address her. She let him blather on about his excuses, smoking silently while she leaned against the wall of his little lair.

Amused in spite of herself, she grinned at the Nos, it somehow more frightening than the scowling. He did have a point after. If she had heard it from him, he might be a mashed pulp of a vampire instead of being around to give her more information. Only reason no one had died when she had found out was the somehow calming influence of the gangrel giant. She nodded once as he indicated the strewn papers about, “Yeah, yeah. You were skipping town. The rest is bullshit.” Her eyes narrowed once again as he named his prince and she took a menacing step towards him, “Why you slimy little weasel, I’m gunna..” She trailed off as the massive bulk of her companion inserted himself between the brujah and her victim and she glared into his eyes, silent a long moment as he stared her down and then at last took a step backwards, ignoring the ugly’s audible noises of relief. “Fucking blood of a Tremere, he says,” she muttered to no one in particular. “The fuck are we supposed to get that.” Continuing on in the same vein, she grumbled all the way back to the bike, only stopping when she realized that Marek had stayed behind to say something to the Nos and Liz paced a bit waiting impatiently for his return, lighting in to him once he was within earshot. “You should have let me pound him, we’re not going to get the info anyhow. No way we’re going to score fucking warlock blood.”

Predictably, he ignored her ranting and simply responded that he thought he knew someone who could help. That shut her up a minute and she blinked dumbly at him as he heaved his massive bulk over the bike and arched a brow at her. Hastily, she scrambled onto the bike behind him, grumbling to herself about Edwin and his bullshit as the cool night air rushing past her cooled her temper. Slightly. She did however pay careful attention to their route and arched a brow as they pulled into the parking lot of a computer repair shop. Surprised at the choice of venue and eyeing him wondering what he was up to, she silently followed him around the back. Rolling her eyes as he knocked on the door, she muttered something about smashing it down taking less time. After a few minutes, the door opened, the woman holding it blinking owlishly at the pair a moment, and then a slight half smirk crossed her lips in the briefest of seconds, causing Liz’s hackles to raise and she found herself already disliking the woman. The lady pushed her glasses up her nose and then turned without a word, leading the way into the gloom, Marek following the woman who was nearly as slight as the brujah herself, who brought up the rear of the little train of vampires.

Kass:

Leading the two surprise guests down the cramped hallways, she passed by her personal office, knowing there was no way to fit the giant gangrel within comfortably . Pausing briefly at a room with a steel door, she entered within and returned to the ones she was leading before the obviously brujah female could begin to fidget. Seriously, could you be any more stereotypical? Entering the conference room, she automatically took up the seat at the head of the table, leaning back in her chair and steepling her fingers as she regarded the two. She broke the silence, her voice soothing and persuasive at the same time. “Joyful and the Angel,” she said, referring to the meanings of their names, already knowing who they were. It -was- her job to keep track of the vampires in and around her Prince’s city and neither of them were easily mistakable. “How woefully inapt of your parents.” A soft chuckle, more at the amusement that she garnered herself with such trite knowledges than at anything else and then she glanced at each in turn before continuing. “Let me take a stab in the dark,” she said gently, thought her ‘guess’ was anything but, “You are after the Romanian gypsies?”

Thanks goodness that Edwin had immediately called her upon the departure of the two here, otherwise she might have been woefully unprepared. She would be sure to send him a little something special with his weekly rewards on Friday. “And you need Elder Tremere blood to get your information.” The city Seneschal smirked at the two as she very gently laid out three glass vials upon the table. One full, two empty. Sliding each of them a vial, she took up the other, holding it so they could see. “This is what you seek.” She let that sit in a minute then nodded to the vials. “And that is your price. A full vial of each of your own vitae in exchange.” Quickly the Elder’s blood disappeared from her hand into a hidden pocket of her coat, Kass fervently wishing that she could have gotten her Sire’s blood for this one but the damned woman had proved a bit too clever as of yet. This was of an elder that had recently been considered a danger to the clan and extinguished. It would suit for whatever the sewer rat intended it for. Predictably, the female erupted in vulgar language, to which, Kass only reacted with a bit of an eye flicker. She’d run down eventaully, and there was really no other option for the duo if they wanted their revenge on the smugglers.

Marek:

The stench emanating from the tomb was only overpowered by the stench of the Nossie before him as he had stepped between Liz and Edwin knowing the only way to get the Nossie to talk was to pay him. Negotiations were needed now, not action….and a state of non-action was not exactly Liz’s strong point. Even before the introduction of the Brujah blood to her veins, she was a canon sans a wick. She had earned herself a name by the Nazi guards of the camp back when they were mortal and no matter how many times they tried to break her, they had a fight each time they took her to interrogations. Hearing her storm off, the large massifs padded about the tomb and nosed through the garbage looking for something to snack on. The pack leader, finding a four by four piece of lumber, took it in his mouth and began gnawing on it as though it were a chew toy. Edwin’s eyes great wide as the slobbering dog destroyed the lumber as easily as if it were a rawhide bone before another gasped a hubcap in his jowls and followed suit. Hearing the location of the Tremere Chantry, Marek nodded before motioning to the three beasts

“I’ll just let them tool around here for a bit if you don’t mind. You know, just until we get back.” Moving towards the exit, he ducked so he could fit through the door before calling back to the Nossie “And Edwin, don’t piss off the dogs. Liz really likes them” Leaving the cemetery knowing that was enough of a warning to alert Edwin that the dogs should not be harmed, he sat done in the chair and began to type in an entry on the computer about the entire meeting to add to the digital archive of Nosferatu secrets.

Reaching the chopper to find Liz in a particularly foul mood, Marek’s large hand grasped her shoulder as he for the first time tonight removed his hat with his free hand so she could see the animalistic eyes. “Look Squirt, I know you don’t like it, but the price is set. Warlock blood is what he wants, and that is what he will get. But we are about to meet a god damned powerful vampire, so I need you to keep your cool. There is no fucking way in hell we are going to be able to take something like that, we are going to have to earn it. And these blood bastards don’t take kindly to threats in their own chantry...so let’s just pretend that you are a rational vampire for a while ok? Don’t think of this dealing with the Romanians, think of it as dealing with the Nossie alright? One thing at a time Peanut” Not entirely sure if that would calm her down, he knew if anyone was able to quell the beast in her, it was he this very night. Tossing a large leg over the chopper, he kicked it to life before placing his hat back on his head and driving off into the night

Pulling up to the repair shop, the two dismounted the chopper and completed a short series of motions before they found the woman, whom was not exactly unattractive, standing before them. Sensing Liz’s dislike of the woman, he laid a calming hand to her shoulder and pushed her through the door in front of him so that anyone watching might mistake it simply as a friendly gesture of women first instead of a silent warning to control herself. Being led down a series of hallways to a conference room, he guided Liz to the chair and made her sit in the plush seat before positioning himself behind her and not wishing to seat himself as it seemed to go against his blood to be in the confined spaces. The sultry voice of the Tremere caught him slightly off guard as she ran on at the mouth in the way of all sophisticates. Hearing her speak of the Ravnos, Marek’s hand on Liz’s shoulder gripped tightly to remind her to stay seated as his own dark voice echoed out in response.

“In part, yes. But there is a more pressing matter at hand. We have come that I might present myself to the Prince of the city and be granted haven here for a short time. Unless you have been permitted to grant such haven en lieu of meeting the Prince in person.”

As she spoke of the vitae, he grimaced at the thought of it before realizing the damned snake of the Nossie must have made contact with the Prince’s whip already. Nodding as there was no other way, the Gangrel pulled up his leather coat sleeve and lowered the leather glove before piercing his own flesh with his fang. Placing the bottle against the wound, he filled, corked, and placed it on the table before her. Looking down to Liz, he grasped the vial and placed it in her hand knowing full well she was considering diving over the table at this other woman. Liz’s blood had been taken forcefully from her one to many times in the camp, she did not so freely give it anymore…he did not even think she had any childer because of her reluctance to share lose her blood.

[Queen of Hearts]

Liz:

The whole walk through the little hallways and the creepy ass witchy vampire ahead of her had her already close to the boiling point, not that she was ever too far away, and if it wasn’t for the soothing presence of her partner, and the grip upon her that would be crushing to any other, she would have showed the damned bookworm who was boss. <I>The Romanians are the important thing</I>, she reminded herself from Malek’s little speech at the cemetery and she kept saying it to herself, and tried to dissociate from anything but trading one thing for the other. They get this blood and then get the Romanians. That was it, maybe the witch would have them bust up some heads in exchange, and she relaxed a little figuring at least she would get some entertainment out of it. Until the prissy snob mentioned the damned gypsy smugglers and she tensed just as the hand on her shoulder, clenched, and she subsided, the cues so subtle that anyone else could have missed it, but they had the ease and practice of years behind them. An odd rapport for two such, not that Liz ever actually considered it. It was what it was, and she was good with that, the grip at her shoulder holding her steady until the crazy bitch demanded her fucking blood.

She burst from her seat, or tried to, the massive paw keeping her seating although he didn’t’ have a hand over her mouth, which she let out freely, swearing up a blue streak before the gangrel firmly handed her the glass vial and she ran down as she stared at it, then looked up at him, knowing the nightmares that even now ran through her veins with every drop of the stuff. She was fiercely protective of it and had never created a childer or ghoul and she was faced with a -serious- dilemma right now and the silence caused by her abrupt cessation of cursing dragged on as the war waged within, but at last, and mostly due to the ease with which the massive male gave his up to the woman, she acquiesced, and with a snarl at him, since it was a safer outlet for her anger, pierced her wrist, letting the precious stuff flow within, grudging every last drop and thanked the cork back into the top, handing it to Malek, unwilling to do the handing over of it herself. She was grinding her teeth with the need to break something and she tore herself away from the restraining hand, not in the direction of the Tremere, but back from whence they had came, through the dark hallway and out the back door of the computer shop.

She stalked off, nearly dislocating the door as she stormed through it, eyes darting around for something, anything, and she caught sight of a junkyard a block over. Easily hopping the fence, she grabbed some of the scrap metal and punched it until it was a flat sheet, then folded it and hit it some more. She let the memories of the soldier come over her now, the horrors of the camp and the tortures that she had survived floating through her head. Once the novelty of force forging with her bare hands paled, she bent to making pretzels out of beams that lay stacked nearby. Eventually, she ran out of steam and simply sat in the center of the swath of destruction, arms wrapped around her knees, chin resting on top of them, her eyes sightless, seeing only the past.

Kass:

The Seneschal nodded, satisfied as the diminutive rabble woman finally shut up and got down to business,. Completed the necessary task, and the Tremere suppressed an eye roll as the woman handed it to the gangrel instead of directly to her. As if there was some significance in the male handing the vitae. Either way, it was still going to her possession. Kass twitched slightly as the brujah girl, thrust herself away from the restraining clamp down of the giant’s hand , relaxing when the woman left the room and building instead of attacking herself, as expected. She had hastily prepared herself for just such an occurrence upon learning of her impending guests, thought was pleased to not be required to use the energy in a wasted maneuver. Extending her delicate hand imperiously, she slid the Tremere Elder’s blood across the table with the other, grasping the dual vials and cradling them a moment, stroking them as if a pet. The avaricious gleam faded from her eyes as she excused herself a moment, swiftly striding to the refrigeration room and inserting the vials among other such, neatly labeling them and taking a moment to admire.

Reminded of the hulking animal still occupying her conference room, she swept within, with a grace that could put a queen to shame and seated herself regally, considering his request for a long moment. “I do have the power to grant you a short time to roam the city.” She considered him thoughtfully then nodded once, “Very well. You have two nights. On the third you must leave the city or apply to the Prince in person for an extension. And,” she pointed the way the brujah had departed, “When you leave, you take her with you.” Kass wasn’t sure what the Prince would have to say about that, but they could, after all, always appeal higher on. And she did not like that female. Rising to show him that his audience was over, she watched him walk out the door, then packed up shop. Once the place was fully secured and its spells were in place, she had to go let the Prince know what she’d done in his name.

Marek:

Feeling a forceful pull as Liz liberated herself from his grasp and stormed out, he heard the door at the end of the hallway crash open nearly separating it from the hinges before returning his gaze to the Tremere. Taking up the vile in his large hand, he bowed slightly at being granted two days to conduct his business within the city limits. Hearing her words, the Gangrel growled slightly as the deep voice replied “I’m a lone wolf, not a pack animal. She will come if she wishes. You want her gone? Don’t you think the Prince should be the one to tell her? Even I know there are certain things that can not be delegated. “ Raising a brow to indicate he was more than aware that she overstepped her boundaries in speaking for the Prince, the Gangrel chuckled and turned around. Without facing her, he departed the door of the conference room while stating “Thanks for the business” Departing the computer store, he closed the door behind himself before looking over to Liz.

“Good job Squirt. At least you held some measure of control in there. Now come on, there is something you need to see. The Nossie can wait.” Mounting the bike again, he kicked it to life before feeling her form climb onto the back and taking hold of the folds in his leather jacket as a handle. Revving the engine for a moment before kicking it into gear, Marek rode down the street while calling over his shoulder. I have two days in the city before I have to leave or appeal to the Prince himself. You may consider coming with me when I leave this time. Lord knows you have nothing tying yourself to this forsaken place. The Tremere, when they finally get around to checking our blood, will find a bit of a surprise.” Removing his hand from the handlebar, he reached into his glove and removed two small test tube vials. Feeling they were far enough away, he stopped the bike and turned off the engine “Here’s your blood back. I figured they would try some shit like this, so I filled the vials with the Nossie’s blood when we were back at the cemetery. Bastard had a scab on his arm he had been picking at. So if those Tremere bitches try to perform their blood magic on it, Edwin is in for a bit of an unpleasant surprise. When you handed me the vial, I switched it before giving it to her...now you can’t say you are not predictable to me.”

Grinning, he dismounted the bike and motioned for her to follow. Walking towards a darkened building, she would see the sign on the door indicated it was an old folks home. Looking around, he quickly picked the lock and entered the building with her in tow. Bypassing the nursing station where the security guard and the nurse talked about some mindless drabble on television, Marek led her to a room in the center of the building. His voice, though deep and powerful, was merely a whisper so as not to wake the old man laying in the bed.

“Liz, your body is the only thing that left the camp...you are still there. Look at this man…look at the room” Motioning to the familiar stamp on the man’s arm, she would note that he too had been a survivor of a concentration camp. Next she would see the family photos of a full life around him on the dresser and nightstand. And from the photos, it was easy to see that he had been quite an adventurer in his time. Stepping over to the man, he touched the tattoo with his fingertips careful not to wake the man as he continued to whisper “You think he forgot what he went through? You think it was any less hard for him? He was able to let go of that rage and lead a productive life still. One filled with love and family. He allowed himself the right to cherish instead of despise. The war was over long ago…you need to find a way to remember how to live. You need to give yourself license to move past it all. You are not the only one that was there” Pulling up his own sleeve, the bond in the room between the three was something few in life would understand…and though they did not know this old man, there was a kinship to him as another survivor. Knowing most of this would not be of any consequence to her as she was Brujah in blood, he had to try it before they continued. Slowly, the old man awoke and blinked his eyes a few times. Yet he was old, and his eye sight failed him long ago. He knew of a presence in the room, but could make out little but silhouettes of his dark guests. Obviously senility had set in on his mind as he called out in a hushed voice a name neither of them would know. Placing his large arm behind the man and helping him sit up, Marek’s animalistic voice answered the man’s calls as he touched the tattooed numbers on the man’s aged skin. The tattoo, over time, had faded and stretched at years passed by the man, “Hush Brother. You are with friends.”

[Queen of Hearts]

Liz:

Liberating herself from the murky swamp of memory, and the twisted lumps of metal within the yard, she had leapt the fence again and was pacing outside near his bike as he came through the door, eyes smouldering still with rage but not so insane as before. Liz ran a hand through her hair, shaking her head as he complimented her on her control. “Fuck.” She said softly, “Barely. Smarmy little know it all,” she trailed off with a glance of surprise up at him, eyes narrowing in suspicion. Something she needed to see, shit, that sounded like a bad idea. The hell did he have in mind now? Typically not explaining, she glared at him a moment to see if she could get it out of him but he was, as usual, impervious, so she muttered and grabbed a fistful of his jacket, flopping into place behind him as he revved the chopper, leaning forward against him as he yelled over the sound of the bike. Shrugging, she considered leaving the place per his suggestion. Marek did have a point, she’d been here a while and it was starting to dull. The Prince here kept a relatively tight rein on the allowable mayhem. And then she stared as he pulled out the vials of blood and, unable to help herself, she roared with laughter. “Fucking priceless,” she laughed into the sudden stillness from the absence of the motorcycle noise. Ignoring the remark about her being predictable, considering herself nothing of the sort, Liz clutched the vial and tucked it away into an interior pocket of her long coat.

Clapping a hand on his bicep, she looked up at him with gratitude, an expression rarely seen on her and nodded. “Thanks, man.” Not much, perhaps to your everyday person, but volumes coming from her, and then the moment was past and she turned to regard the building, arching a brow as he led her towards it. Catching sight of the sign, she looked at him strangely. A home for old people. Hardly a place she thought of as a destination. Of any sort. She opened her mouth to needle him about his sense of humor but something stopped her and she simply walked quietly on, glancing toward the desk as they wandered past it, arching a brow as he picked a specific door and went in. Hesitating a minute, then following him in, she looked at the patient in the bed and then up to her compatriot quizzically. Looking around as he bade her, it took a moment for it to sink it, clarity coming just as his next words did. She was frozen in place as Marek drew her attention at first to the tattoo that matched her and his, and then the photos and other memories frozen in time. As she looked to the numbers revealed as his arm, then the ones on the old man’s, she did something that she had done only twice since she’d gotten free of the camps. She slid the concealing jacket off her shoulders, folding it over a chair, letting her own numbers stand out.

The war was over long ago. He was wrong there, the war never stopped going. Their people had been hounded and killed for millennia and maybe their internment was over and the damned nazis were all gone now, but there were plenty others and they could never give up that fight, not when they now had so much power to lend to the cause. And she started to tell him all this but a stirring of the covers caught her attention and she glanced towards the bed. With a tenderness belying his massive bulk, Marek was there, holding the old man and helping him lean up. He spoke softly and while Marek might not recognize the name, Liz did and she bowed her head a minute. He was calling the name of the angel of death. Turning away, she stepped forward to look at the pictures. Children, grand-children, Mountains and desert. She touched a picture of a little dark-haired girl, braids trailing down her back as she swung in a tire swing. Looking over her shoulder as she heard Marek speak again. A soft nod and she stepped across and over to the opposite side of the bed, placing her hand ever so gently onto the tremulous one of the old man.

Softly repeating Marek’s words in the native tongue of the three of them there, feeling the ghosts of the past crowd around, she clasped his hand and spoke softly. The next words from his mouth were both a question and a demand and she acceded after a long pause. “Ken, rabbi,” Alizah said softly, listening a moment to the pure scholarly form of Hebrew emanating from the dying man, then taking up the thread, “…I shall not want.” She recited with him, their voices soft to the end of the psalm, then glancing at the old man, she saw the he had passed. Holding his hand a lingering moment, she then looked up to Marek, nodding once and then followed him out, uncharacteristically silent as they moved past the nurse’s station once more, and then out to the chopper, eyes far away. Absently digging her fingers into his coat once again for purchase, she was doing some thinking, something not an everyday occurrence for the brujah, or a comfortable one and she didn’t even hear when the bike roared to life, or see the route which they were taking, only blinking up as the noise stopped and they were once again at the residence of the Nos.

Marek:

Though the old folk’s home was dark and only the faint glow of the emergency exit lights in the hallway illuminated the area, the two vampires saw with great clarity all within the room as the aged man sat listening to the voice of Marek. A gentleness that was almost out of character for the giant was seen in the presence of this old man as the bond they shared was not one anyone outside of other survivors would comprehend. It was a side of him that was never shown, yet even the most violent of dogs have a kinship with their pack…and his pack was not only the Gangrel clan and gypsies, but also other holocaust survivors. The sounds of heels impacting tiles sounded out as the security guard began to make his rounds leading him in the opposite direction, but it was just a matter of time until his path was lead back in this direction. And as such, time was short for their visitation with the unknown old man. Shorter than the guard would even know. Watching Liz complete a dying passage with the old man in a rare spectacle of compassion, it was here where in an unassuming room in the “New World” were Marek saw the true strength and ideology of the Brujah clan. Their heart. Not merely the anarchists and social dissidents that outwardly they were viewed as, but rather a noble breed as hell bent on creation of the utopian society of Carthage. They were merely warriors, as the Knights Templar were, that survived into modern nights. In night of past, they would have been praised for their fervor and passion in this crusade of nightly quest, yet in the modern nights of “civility” they were less seen as crusaders as they were mindless foot soldiers.

Not being one to stand by religion, Marek simply placed a reassuring hand on the dying man without speaking the words with the two. Despite his distaste for religion, he would not crush the beliefs of another as they approached their last breath. Knowing nothing more needed to be said as the man’s chest ceased the struggled rise and fall of breath, and the quickening of his heart only heard by vampire ears before it too failed, Marek placed a large hand on her shoulder and stated simply, “Come, let us depart. Let the living attend the lying dead as the walking dead continue their crusade.” releasing his grasp on her, the two navigated the hallways again with not even a glance to one another as the emotions from a lifetime ago flooded the two with the same dread that was felt in the early forties. The dread of loosing yet another of their own.

Mounting the bike, he sensed the rage she had felt since he first mentioned the Romanians for the first time seemed to be a non issue. Kick-starting the chopper, he eased the throttle and drove slowly towards the cemetery giving her time to again regain her composure by navigating a series of detours to bide the time. Feeling her grip tighten on his jacket as she grew restless, he knew she was nearly back to herself and gave him the ever so subtle hint that she was prepared to meet with the Nossie again. Leaning into the last turn, he parked the motorcycle in the same parking area of the deserted mall that had parked earlier before taking up the large cane in his hand again and walked towards the tomb where the dogs and Nossie were waiting. Pulling aside the stone one again and entering the tomb, the rancid smell again flooded his senses as it seemed to have intensified since last they were there due in no small part to the canines chewing on anything laying around leaving slobber coated remnants of destruction strewn about in their wake. Motioning for the mastiffs to depart, he shook his head and looked at the Nossie. “Christ it stinks. You know, I am well aware that disease is not exactly our concern anymore, but whatever it is you have going on here may just mutate into something we can catch.”

Reaching into the leather pocket of the duster he wore, he withdrew a vial of kindred vitae. Placing it on the table next to the glowing computer monitor, Marek tilted his head as the slow, deep voice rolled lazily over his tongue “Now then….Czig and Johnne?”

Edwin:

Obviously relieved as the two made it back, the Nossie was nearly at whit’s end with these dogs destroying anything they could sink their teeth into. Nodding as Marek instructed the canine to depart, Edwin reached out and grasped the vial greedily before pocketing it and resuming his infernal scratching about his wrist in a nervous manner. Leaning over to the unusually quiet Liz, he smiled to display snarled and ragged teeth while each passing word cast the fowl stench of his breath about her face “Good to see you two were able to pull it off. I can only imagine what that pretentious cum vampire wanted. Some trinket no doubt. But never mind, it is none of my business what she wanted…I got what I wanted is all that really matters.” Looking back to Marek, he grinned causing the scabs and boils on his face to stretch in protest to the expression. Open sores seemed to almost ooze injection and puss and he moved to the computer terminal and began to type in a few codes and enter a search query. The slimy voice called out as he stared intently at the computer screen reading the undecipherable coded text.


“Mm hm, seems your two recently took possession of another shipment at the docks and are in route to……interesting, they are going to Norfolk, Virginia. We are not sure where they are holed up at the moment, but it would seem they are going to place the shipment onto a naval vessel headed towards Panama. No doubt it is a weapons shipment for Venezuelan gorillas. They had been supplying the Venezuelan government with arms for years, and at the same time supplying the revolutionaries. Playing both sides against the middle really. Not a bad scheme, war is profitable to people without a moral compass.”

Standing to his feet after locking the system again, he pulled a cellular phone from his pocket and handed the number to Marek on a scrap of paper, who in turn handed it to Liz. Chuckling, Edwin tapped his forehead with his finger before that slithering voice continued “Now then, I know little miss twisted panties here would like to kill me as soon as she finds out what she wants, so I am not reading anything more until you two are safely down the road and I am in the clear. Go to the second rest stop on I-95. There are a bank of public phones there. Call me from the center phone, the caller id will register on my cellular. Once I see that phone number, I will give you the rest of the information on what dock and at what time.”

Pulling a dossier from beneath the keyboard that was still warm from being printed out, he handed it to Liz. Inside she would find recent photos of the two Romanians as well as known aliases used at motels and customs records. Returning to scratching the itch, Edwin chuckled slightly before continuing “Though you might want to wait until tomorrow night. You only have a few hours left tonight, and trying to find a place to escape the sunlight will be difficult on I-95 at this hour.”

Liz:

Still silently following him, although her introspection was at an end, she also wrinkled up her nose as the scent, though hers was not near as keen as the gangrel’s still she had to agree that it was nasty and she gave Edwin a hard look. Casting a glance at the puppies as they were sent away, then back to listen to the Nos and Marek talk, she was only half paying attention to the conversation, her mind still with the old man, poor bastard. She wondered who he had been before the camps. His Hebrew had been pure, that of a scholar and she had not been just flattering him when she had granted him the title of teacher. A wise man who had obviously studied the ancient texts as a young man, until the camp had likely ruined his faith and perhaps the young man’s dreams, for it was obvious, through his pictures and other things that he had never retaken up the mantle of the rabbi and it was all due to those bastard gypsies and their like. And with the thought echoed by Marek’s mention of the two, Liz was back on focus, the rage she felt on behalf of the old man and all like him, including the massive bulk of a man who was still speaking, burning through the quiet and calm she had during the last few minutes and she fixed Edwin with an unblinking stare of hatred for those who dare stand in her way to the completion of her quest of the eradication of all who had assisted in the torment of her people including those who continued to deny the horrors burned into the survivors memories.

Edwin leaned in close to her and smiled, and it took everything she had not to put her fist through his face and he must have gathered that for her withdrew rather quickly and turned the gruesome expression to Marek who simply listened to the nasty little man, and Liz took a step to the side, leaning her right shoulder against the wall, and lighting up a smoke, at least the scent of the tobacco would mask some of the rotted decay that permeated the air around here. The brujah female watched him as impassively as she could, the thing looking even more ghoulish in the eerie light of the computer screen. She listened carefully to what he was reading from the screen, fixing the location in her mind. Norfolk, Virginia. The fucking bastards were still supplying weapons to the unsavory. Venezuelan terrorists as well as the government. Eyes narrowing slightly as she detected what sounded like a hint of admiration for the ravnos, she snarled low in her throat, unconsciously tensing, the movement and sound cut off by a look for Marek and she subsided, but began pacing within the available space in the cramped tomb. She only stopped her movements when her companion handed her the slip of paper and she tucked it into her bra with the wad of cash she was carrying. Wasn’t any safer place for it to be sure.

Liz arched a brow as the Nos mocked her and stepped forward right into Marek’s arm which had gone up just as the sniveley coward had decided to call her something derogatory. She gripped the arm tightly a moment with her hand, glaring up at him but again subsiding to his will. The Romanians, she reminded herself and went back to pacing as Edwin the nasty continued with a laundry list of details. Worse than a damned Tremere. Go here call on the second phone from the west between 1 and 3. Shit like it was some kind of spy movie. Edwin printed something out and she ducked under the restraining arm to receive it, then back behind Marek while she thumbed through it. She growled as the photos came to sight, unable to help herself, stabbing the cigarette out onto the wall before reading along the lists, seeing red a moment, muttering. “Fucking bastards had the goddamn -balls- to use Israeli aliases.” She was gritting her teeth hard now and she stormed out of the tomb as Edwin made another smart comment, actually daring to tell her how to proceed from here on out. No way she was waiting a second longer to get her hands on those smugglers. She stalked to the oversized chopper, absently walking around it in circles as she read through the portfolio, which was extensive, not surprisingly, and even went so far back as to list some of their contacts, Liz carefully memorizing the names of two Princes who had allowed the duo to pass through their cities and one that even actively did business with them.

Turning at last to Marek, she held up a hand, forestalling anything he might be about to utter and shook her head, “I know what you’re going to say but I WILL NOT wait any longer.” She tucked the file away in a compartment on the bike and then crossed her arms to glare up at him. “I don’t care -what- it takes, I’m not giving them another moment to get away from me again.” She pointed a finger irately, eyes narrowing. “Not a fucking WORD about Arizona.” Tucking her small hands into fists, she shook her head and continued on in her rant. “I don’t care if I have to sleep in the forest with a pack of wolves,” and the significant glance was meant to indicate that she wasn’t referring to the normal everyday wolf pack, underlying the seriousness of her commitment to see these ravnos get the justice they deserve. “Hell, I will even hole up with of those shadow puppets,” she muttered as she began to pace with the need to be -doing- something, although she was exaggerating a bit there, not likely to wander into a lasombra‘s den on any account. She finally stopped pacing and tilted her head up to him , defying him to argue with her now that her goal was so close in sight.

[Queen of Hearts]

Marek:

Standing in front of her watching as she paced back and forth in an irritated and nearly irrational state, he knew it would be just a matter of time until she got it out of her system. Hearing her bring up Arizona again, he chuckles and shook his head though he was careful not to bring up that line of conversation lest he further the open-ended, wrathful rant she was displaying at the very moment. As she slowed her conversation and began to cool, he nodded and tossed his leg over the monstrous chopper and kicked it to start. Speaking over the rumble of the engine, he adjusted his hat and looked to her

“Fine. To Norfolk then. We should be able to make it to Pennsylvania before sun up. He will hole up there for the day, then drive the following six hours to Norfolk. Well try to find you our own bike along the way” Placing the bike into first gear, he mumbled something about not wanting her to wreck his chopper while in a rage. Feeling her slender form mount the bike behind him, he throttled the engine and they took off into the night and negotiated the surface streets until they found the interstate. Driving to the location the Nossie had instructed them to call from, he stopped the chopper and turned off the engine. Dismounting, he walked over to the bank of phones and placed the call to Edwin’s cellphone.

“It’s me….alright, so warehouse 14 on dock 3.” Hanging up the phone without another word, he took out a pen and wrote the location on the back of his hand before walking back to the bike where she still sat. Glancing to the back of his hand, he related the address to her. “I figure it would take 7 hours from here to get to the warehouse if we did the speed limit…of course, knowing you, I doubt we will be doing the speed limit.” Motioning to a few bikers that had stopped and were using the restrooms, he continued “Go work your “charm” and get one of those bikes. Make sure it is good on gas though. We don’t want to have to stop before dawn to fill up. And for god sake, don’t let your “charm” get caught on tape again. We don’t need the law looking for us right now since we are going to try to make good time.”

Watching her toss her leg from the bike and make her way towards the men’s bathroom in the secluded rest stop, he chuckled and shook his head while withdrawing a cigar from his pocket and lighting it. Looking back in her direction as she entered the restroom, he grinned wondering what the janitorial service would find in the morning left in the aftermath of Hellicane Liz. “Poor bastards” Watching her emerge a few moments later, he could still hear the terrified screams and moans coming through the window of the bathroom as she held up the keys to one of the bike triumphantly. Blood had splattered onto her face, and he pointed to it while stating, You have a little something right……you know what? Nevermind” Tossing his leg over the bike, he kicked it to start and pulled towards the onramp and waited for her to catch up on the newly acquired bike wondering which one she chose. As she pulled up, he grunted and grinned before stating ”Thought so” Throttling the engine again, they took off down the interstate for the long ride ahead of them.

Shortly before sun up, Marek exited the highway and found a small dive motel. Entering the main lobby while stretching his sore legs, he looked to the surprised and nervous manager. Asking for a room and paying, Marek nodded his thanks before returning to Liz and pointing to room 5. Pushing the large chopper into a parking space, he unlocked the door and surveyed the room. It was not much, hell, it was not even clean. There was a busted television with a coat hanger antenna, a bed and box spring on the floor without a frame, and a comforter that he could smell “sins” upon. Shaking his head, he removed the comforter and tossed it over the window to block out more light before shaking his head “That is not going to do it. Looks like we are going to have to share the tub for a bed today. Hang the sign on the door to make sure the maids don’t come in will ya Hellicane?” Moving to the backroom, he knew the comforter and curtain would keep out most of the light, but they would need more. Grabbing the towels from the rack, he wet them down in the stained sink so he could stuff them under the bathroom door to keep out any residual light once she was ready to go to sleep “You comin’?” removing his leather trench coat, he laid it in the tub and looked at the size of it knowing he was going to be cramped in this small space. damned short people he thought to himself.


Liz:

She grinned fiercely at him, the joy of the hunt lighting her eyes with fire. She was so glad to be heading after those fucking Romanian Jews that she didn’t even argue with him as he whined about his damned bike. There was always another where that came from. Hopping on, she leaned against his massive bulk and slid her arms around him, closing her eyes a moment to enjoy the sheer rush of the ride. There was something about a bike that just couldn’t be matched by any other form of transportation. When they got to the phone, she stuck to the bike while he made the necessary call to the blasted Nos. Worm, she had privately nicknamed him, which pretty much suited him. The call was short and her Gangrel came back, having written the info down on his massive paw. She glanced disinterestedly at it, and then back up at him as he suggested she borrow one of the bikes that were hanging out. She grinned wolfishly at him and vaulted off the chopper, striding confidently over to the bikes.

She looked them over, picking out which one she wanted, and then pulled open the door to the men’s room and walked right in. She half expected the occupants to be horrified at a chick walking in, but apparently it was quite frequent, as they all looked her over expectantly. She closed the door behind her and leaned against it, smirking. “Now, which one of you gentleman is the owner of the brand new Fat Bob out there?” One of the guys at the urinal made some sort of nasty comment about him having one of those she could ride, but it seemed that none of them was the owner, and then the stall door opened and a guy who was around six feet tall and damned muscular came over and looked her small form over. “That, would be me,” he said, one eyebrow arched at her. She, still leaning against the door, beckoned him closer. “How’s about givin’ a lady a ride, big guy?” she said to him coquettishly, at which he came over to her, looking down and then leaned down, ostensibly to kiss her.

He never got the chance, for she grabbed a handful of his hair and wrench his head sideways, breaking his neck then dug her teeth into that flesh for a quick pick me up, dropping him as the other three guys stared at her. She fished through his pockets and then extracted the keys to his Hog, lifting a grin to the other males in the room, and tucking the keys into her pocket. One of them, started towards her, “Now, listen, you little bitch,” he growled, and that’s as far as he got before her fist went through his stomach, and then she kicked him aside and broke the legs of the next in line. The others were pressed into the corners, horrified, and she blew a kiss at them, then easily moved the big guy’s remains to the side and sauntered out of the bathroom, pulling the keys out to flash them to her partner, smirking. He took off and she stalked over towards the bike, running a hand over her new acquisition possessively. It was a beauty, the brand new Harley-Davidson FXDF Dyna Fat Bob. Guy must have had an in because these babies had only just started rolling off the line in the last month or so.

Straddling the powerful bike, she turned it on, revving it, flashing a quick grin at the guy who was peeking from the bathroom, then turned it and kicked it onto the road. She caught up easily with Marek, as he was a bit on the grandmotherly side when it came to driving, and proudly grinned at him. Her enthusiasm was dampened slightly by his smug little ‘Thought so’ and she shrugged casually. “Its nice to have something powerful between my legs for once.” Then she took off, out pacing him for a few miles, then settled into an oddly familiar pattern of riding side by side. She found herself wondering, not for the first time, how his puppies kept up with them, but they could travel during the daytime so maybe they just kept going where Marek and herself could not. And speaking of that, it was about that time, an observation apparently also noted by her partner who led her to one of the seediest motels she’d ever seen. And she’d seen plenty. She stared around with amusement, “Whatever you paid for this, you got robbed.” She sniffed the air and chuckled softly. “Good thing we can’t catch diseases anymore.” She leaned against the wall, watching him mess around with the comforter and then laughed. “Yeah sure, and then I’ll have Jeeves bring us some champagne.” She shook her head but did as requested, hanging the slightly mangled ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign on the outside of the door.

She started to take him to task for the ‘Hellicane’ remark, the damned Gangrel was always coming up with stupid pet names for her. But it was better than shrimp or shorty and so she let it lie for now. She took the added precaution of moving the dresser in front of the door just in case. Entering into the tiny bathroom, she grinned at him, retrieving the towels and stuffing them in place. “You go ahead and get comfortable,” she chuckled, standing as she completed her task. Unable to suppress a little giggle at the sight of him all squashed in the tub, she stood at the edge of the tub and peered down at him. “You look like a sardine,” she told him and then hopped on top of him wiggling a bit to get comfortable. Unlike him, she could quite easily fit in the space and with him as padding she was actually very comfortable. With one last grin of amusement, she laid her head on his chest, closed her eyes, and faded into the darkness.

Marek:

It had been an eventful night. He had met up with Liz again, and watched her kick some ass… Found Edwin in the graveyard, and watched her kick his ass… Faced the Tremere, and watched her want to kick the Tremere’s ass…Found a suitable bike, and kick the gangs ass. Chuckling to himself as he slid into the bathtub to and tried to get comfortable, he grew angry and kicked the faucet free of the wall in irritation. Hearing Liz speaking of him as a sardine, he removed his hat and placed it atop the counter and stated, “Blow me” Feeling her slender body fall gracefully atop his, he shifted slightly until he was able to get her elbow out of his ribs. And then deathly sleep came.

Awakening the next night, he looked to his chest and saw Liz still laying curled there just as the kitten to the bulldog in an old cartoon. Feeling a sharp pain in his back from the cramped bed they had made in the tub, he shoved her off of him and onto the floor before standing up quickly holding his lower back. “God damned it. How the shit does a fucking vampire get a fucking Charlie horse in his back?” Bending at the hips to try to relieve the pressure, he looked over to the Brujah “Sorry about that Liz. Hell of a way to wake up” Reaching down to help her to his feet, he pulled open the door to the bathroom and looked around the room. Glancing over his shoulder, he grinned wryly and stated “Good news, Extreme Home Makeover came in while we were asleep, and this place is not a 5 star hotel. Oops, nevermind. The lights are off” Turning on the switch, the single bulb suspended from a chord hanging from the ceiling buzzed before coming on and lighting up the interior of the room.

Reholstering the cannon like pistol in the small of his back beneath his beltline, he pulled on his coat and retook his hat before reaching in the corner and pulling out the skull tipped cane. Exiting the motel, he looked around before moving towards his bike and straddling it awaiting Liz to join him. “Quit doin’ your makeup and let’s go Peanut.” Watching her exit and shoot up her middle finger, he laughed and kicked the bike to start before racing down the road again only to find they had again fell into a routine of riding side by side. It was almost an analogy of their life. She did not follow him, nor he her. They happened to travel the same path, towards the same goal…and they broke the law the entire way.

Hours later, they pulled into Norfolk and negotiated the surface streets looking for the right warehouse numbers. Finding the right one, the rode past before packing at the end of the row and turning off the engine. Removing the cane form the holster on the side of the bike, he nods to her and slides off the large bike “This is the place. Theirs is the one ri….” Holding his hand up, he motioned for her to stop before stating “Where are all the dock workers?” No sooner had the question been asked than the crack from a rifle echoed out in the night and the bullet struck him clearly in the chest and dropped him to his knee. Growling, he ducked behind a metal beam and withdrew the handgun grateful his unique dark gift prevented the round from doing little more than ruining his shirt.

Liz:

She’d gone to sleep upon her massive Gangrel companion. Next thing she knew, she was hitting the floor and she rolled and jumped to her feet in a fighting stance, for a minute assuming she was under attack. When she realized that Marek was in pain, she couldn’t help but grin, muttering something about him being a ‘fucking wuss ‘ under her breath before he apologized, shrugging that off. She followed behind him as he went first into the room to check it out, smirking a bit to herself. By all rights, she should have checked it out first, being the stronger of the two but apparently the whole ‘me big protector’ inherent in the male didn’t die as easily as the body did. She blinked a bit in the harsh glare of the light and gave him a dramatic sigh. “You never take me anywhere nice.” Grinning, she put the room to rights, making sure to remove any hint of their presence. Except for the broken faucet and she eyed Marek a moment, shaking her head. She flushed the tub out where they had slept. Who knew what a stray piece of hair or what not could be used by those bastard warlocks. Hearing him whining outside, she left the place, flipping him off for whatever stupid comment he had made and then stretched her legs over the recently acquired Harley, gyrating her hips a bit on it as she started it up and it purred for her. He had taken off but she caught him easily and slid into the pattern. Truth was, they made a good team for all their bickering, and though they might separate for years at a time, working as a team was always second nature.

As they came into Norfolk, she let him take the lead slightly, he was a little better at this type of business than she was. She followed along, looking for the number that he told her, nodding as he indicated it and parked her bike alongside his. He pulled his pistol, and she grinned and reached to the opposite side of her bike, pulling out a shotgun that she’d found laying around somewhere. Leaning it against her shoulder, she followed him a few steps, nodding as he said that it was the one and bouncing a little on her toes in anticipation. Then he stopped and she stopped when he held up his hand, frowning in confusion, cleared up when he asked where the dock workers were. She opened her mouth to say something snaky but shots rang out, hitting Marek in the chest. She actually gasped when he fell to a kneel, a weird moment of irrational panic, which only made her angrier at whoever what taking potshots at them while he got his ass out of the line of fire. She fired the shotgun in the general direction that she bullets had come from and leaned next to Marek, holding it at ready. “It seems we have a welcoming committee.” She frowned in thought. “Which is odd because only one person knew where we was headed.” She gritted her teeth and growled. “I’mma beat that bastard into a bloody pulp.”

“If we get out of this,” she muttered as another gun opened fire, and then more until it seemed that they were surrounded. She began swearing in Yiddish, returning fire in all directions. “It’s a fucking ambush!” the brujah grumbled, knowing that, though they had the special powers inherent in their undead status, they could eventually be worn down by enough bullets, enough time. Fortunately it was early enough in the night that they didn’t have to worry about sunrise coming anytime soon, but this was just as dangerous to their unlife. She handed her shotgun to Marek. “You keep shooting, shoot with both guns, make it look like both of us are trapped in this area. I’m going to see if I can sneak up on some of these bastards and take ‘em out.” Without waiting for an answer, she dropped to the ground, wriggling along the base of the nearest building and then slipped from his sight. She made a very small target, especially as compared to Marek’s bulk and she was hoping they wouldn’t notice her leaving. She crept along, following the sound of the random bursts of gunfire, only moving when Marek was shooting. Some of the gunfire was coming from up on a roof and she grabbed a hold of the gutter drain and climbed up it in short bursts. She jumped up on the roof and just started slaughtering. She had killed two by the time the rest even noticed and a few more before one of them managed to get a shot off at her. She grabbed that one, snapping both his arms and tossing him aside. She’d take him back to Marek for questioning. She fed from the last two, tossing the useless husks aside and grabbed her broken armed victim, dragging him back and tossing him in front of her Gangrel companion, then taking off again.

[Queen of Hearts]

Marek:

Taking up both guns, he began to fire in the direction of the security guards, though it was more a ruse than productive firing. They had rifles and were able to shoot over long distances. All he had was the shotgun and the huge pistol he carried, both of which were deadly short ranged weapons but did little but flash out in the darkness. Hearing the screams of men echoing out one after the other, he knew the Brujah was dispatching them one at a time in some horrific manner. Kneeling behind a large container, he reloaded both weapons and looked around the corner only to hear the gunfire had ceased. Stepping out to tempt any potential snipers to give away their position, a shot rang out only to be followed by cries of mercy when she identified their location. Stepping out the last time, no further shots rang out to indicated either the snipers were more hesitant to fire, or they were all dead. Either way, he was able to move freely in the open now and made his way to where he had last seen Liz. Walking past her as she exited the shadows dragging a broken man in a black uniform of a private security agency, he chuckled and stated , “How the hell did you get back there? I last saw you on the crane.”

Pulling the cane from his belt where he had tucked it as though it were a sword, he tossed her the shotgun and looked to the man whose arms hung limp at his sides while being dragged about by load baring vest full of ammo. Shaking his head, he chuckled amused at Liz’s handywork, “By the beard of Moses, what the hell? It is one thing to break the fucker’s arms, but you nearly ripped them out.” Dropping to his knee to lower himself to the man laying cowering on the damp and cold asphalt, Marek’s height was still nearly eye level with Liz. Reaching down, he grasped the man by the broken portion of his arm and applied pressure enough to cause the man to writhe in pain while bubbles of saliva formed in the corners of his mouth and his nose ran amidst the tears of pain.

“Well hell, sorry about that Tough Guy. She gets a little riled up when bullets are flying. You know how it is. A woman’s wrath and all. Now then, hows about you telling me where everyone is? Where are the Romanians?”

Just as the writhing guard was about to answer, his head blew apart sending a bloody mist into the air and showering Marek in bone and brain matter while the report of a rifle was heard a second later. Jumping to his feet, he threw his weight against Liz to get them both out of the line of fire from a weapon that was at least a .50 cal sniper rifle two hundred meters away. Holding his arm across her chest to flatten them both against the wall, he did not realize his hand was copping her breast until her hand pushed it away causing him to grin sheepishly “Yeah, that is my sniper. I had him do that so that I could grope you. Grow up will you. Besides, it’s not like I haven’t seen or felt them before. You are a heavy sleeper remember?” Shaking his head, he removed his hat and looked down the long rows of warehouses on the dockside while the scent of the sea air carried on the breeze clouded his senses. “I can’t see him. Looks like we better take the long way around.” Motioning for her to take the route around the back of the warehouse and he would follow.

Navigating their way through the labyrinth of containers, warehouses, and dock equipment, they finally found there way to the correct warehouse. Sniffing the air, he growled a whisper “They are in there. Along with more guards…..and a non functioning toilet.” Grinning down to her, he nodded to indicate they should go in. Backing up to get a running start, he gave her a worried expression when the sound of a boat engine started and ran towards the sheet metal wall bursting through knowing they would be concentrating their muzzles on the doorway. And like that, Armageddon had started. The bullets of automatic rifles and pistols impacted heavily against him as he ran towards the group quickly to some of them would kill one another in the crossfire. All the while, he fired the canon of a pistol he carried and leveled one or two. Unable to hear the crash from one of the high windows due to the gunfire, he did not know Liz had joined the battle too. Animalistic growls echo out as he felt the bullets ripping into his body as his hands turned to feral like claws and he began to lash out tearing at faces and throats. Pivoting behind one man, he bit into the man’s neck for a quick pick me up and to stave off some of the damage he was taking.

It all was over in but a few moments. Standing there with shoulders sunk in pain and his clothing full of holes, pools of dark blood formed around his feet as he dropped to his knees succumbing to the volley of bullets. Looking over to Liz, he motioned toward the back door where the Romanians were casting off on a luxury style yacht. Setting to work, he began to grab up injured men to feed from as the beast within struggled to gain control of his actions. Feeding from the dieing men was only a stop gap though, this would mean that Liz would be forced to deal with the Romanians if she was able to catch the yacht in time. He would need to feed his fill and rest to recover from injuries such as these. Even as he was able to fortify his body against the bullets, the sheer number of them had taken their toll.