Often it is the small additions that, as they say, break the camel's back. Rain and winds he had borne stoically until now, though they had worn at his patience beneath the surface. One clumsy late night pedestrian knocking into him did it - an eruption into violence. Fists beating out wildly and an animalistic growl issuing from his throat, he attacked without thought of the consequences. The ordinary citizen was soon beaten soundly, any chance at defence lost by the surprise and fury of the assault.
Trembling with the realisation of what he had done, the teenager pulled his threadbare jacket about himself, his bare feet slapping wetly on the footpath as he ran from the scene. None of those few who had stopped to observe the fracas saw any reason to follow him. Street kids, like beaten strangers, were someone else's problem. Coats turned against the wind and the world they hurried on about their own business.
Cursing himself, Only lent against the faux granite side of the bank building. It had been weeks since he'd had an episode like that and he'd thought himself almost out of the woods. Warnings from others about breaking the Masquerade actually caught his attention when they came from bruisers who could pulp him far easier than he had taken down that Kine. Thank God he'd caught himself before he started feeding! The conditions, along with the distance the watchers had kept, had conspired to hide his fangs, at least he believed so. It was probably best to keep away from people for a while. No need to take chances.
Splattered with wet leaves and twigs from the trees above the car was well out of the sight of the general public. Sensible people didn't chance their vehicles or themselves by parking in such out of the way places. Then again, they probably hadn't destroyed a couple of city council wheel clamps either. Temper temper again, in addition to the serendipitous presence of a pair of bolt cutters in the yellow Corolla's boot, had made Only's transport somewhat infamous among the ranks of the central city traffic wardens. Sooner or later they'd catch up with him, possibly, but that was the future, not the now.
Since being Embraced by an unknown vampire some few years back the sixteen year old had come to realise that there was no one other than himself he could really depend on. Sure he'd been helped out by people a few times, but so many of them were involved in Machiavellan politics that he couldn't be bothered figuring out if there was true concern or friendship behind their actions. The truth often wasn't worth the pain it brought. At least he had the Malkavians to thank for claiming him as their own, though it really wasn't that much of a step up from Caitiff. He'd rather be a Gangrel, talking to animals and living under the stars, but the few he'd managed to talk to had little interest in the ravings of a kook. It appeared they automatically mistrusted his kind.
A few minutes later found him driving along the waterfront; choppy waters to his left behind the old stone wall and sparse foliage clinging tenaciously to the road hugging cliff to his right. The rain had begin to let up now he was under cover, and a few stars shone out over the bay. North Head and Rangitoto were dark shapes against the horizon and from behind came a bleeding of light from the concentration of life that was the central city.
Grasped by a fleeting urge, he pulled over to the right and headed up the rise to the closed gates of the Bastion Point memorial. Exiting the car he continued up on foot, across pitted asphalt covered in oil stained puddles and onto the grass. Soaking greenery washed his feet clean and added to the dampness of his khaki pants as he made his purposeful way towards one of the old, gutted gun emplacements. Usually Ballard could be found here, staring out into the harbour or up into the sky. Considered flaky for a Gangrel, the man was one of few who'd put up with Only's presence unquestioningly.
Quiet overlaid the area, and a quick glance inside left little doubt. "Sod," muttered the young Malkavian as it became all too obvious that the sometime resident was not about. Sighing, he was about to leave when a metallic tang in the crisp air drew his eyes to a corner. Blood soaked into the stone beneath a light covering of sand. Someone had bled here and then it had been covered over - recently. Sounds of stealthy motion further up the rise caught his attention and he blended into the shadows to see who else was visiting.
A large shape all but blotted out the minimal light coming through the door. Hair matted from the earlier downpour and dark trenchcoat stained with rain the stranger carried with him a formidable sense of presence. Raising his head, he seemed to sniff the air, highlighting the glowing red eyes that gave his spare face a malevolent cast. Swiftly the vampire moved to the bloodied corner and knelt to examine it. In two minds as to whether to remain hidden or try escaping unseen while the other's back was turned, Only found the choice taken from him as the crouched figure spoke.
"I'll assume you didn't have anything to do with this, boy." A momentary blur of motion and the looming vampire was standing over him. The teenager hadn't even managed half a step towards the exit. His voice was one used to command, slightly more precise than a native citizen would tend to have and perfectly suited to his impressive bearing.
Knowing it was possibly a foolish move, but preferring not to appear weak, Only met the questioner's eyes squarely. "And I'll assume you didn't have anything to do with it either," he managed to get out in response.
Briefly the air in the small area seemed tensed with anticipation, as if lightning were about to strike. Only readied himself for action, though he suspected that he wouldn't have a chance. Staring at the implacable face before him he was relieved and surprised as a smile flickered into life across the features, completely caught off guard when a good natured chuckle came from the vampire. He almost slumped as his anxiety lessened to more manageable levels.
"No. It appears that neither of us have any clues other than the obvious as to what has happened to our absent host. I'm not especially familiar with the city, but I'm a fair detective. What's say we team up? You are a local, I assume?"
Something obviously animalistic about the stranger caused the younger vampire to classify him as another Gangrel. Probably a friend from Ballard's old times out in the hinterlands. He certainly seemed a professional as he gave the barren room a thorough inspection for further clues, then rushed outside to peer at the grass and mud once Only had nodded his agreement to the deal.
"There was a car and at least three of them," the as yet unnamed vampire said. "I know a few people who could manage to find more, but I don't have their talents." Going inside again briefly, he came back out into the open air pushing something into one of the pockets of his voluminous coat. "What we need now is a Tremere who'll deign to talk to us. Any ideas?"
"Sure," replied Only. "There's one I should be able to find easily enough." He lead the other down the verge. "Come on, I've got a car."
"And I should analyse this for you exactly why?" Balthazar stroked his goatee as he sat back to observe the faces of the two others at the table. Both Only and the anonymous stranger looked back, unamused.
"Just do it, Bal," said the young Malkavian. "You know I don't get involved in anything without good cause, and it isn't exactly a great strain on your mystical abilities, I'm sure. Anyway, you owe me."
"True enough," grimaced the Tremere. "All right, meet me back here in an hour. I'll have all the info for you then. Good enough?" He rose, picking up the handkerchief and its contents carefully.
"Can't you just do it here and now," interjected the dark stranger in a low growl.
"No no. Certain things need to be readied before I can proceed. You're lucky that I owe Only here, or it'd take longer. Now, I'll see you in an hour." Without further pause or comment the vampire mage recovered his coat and departed their presence.
"Bullshit. I know for a fact that he only needs to touch the blood," half muttered the stranger. "They will play their games, I suppose." He steepled his strong, callused hands and looked over them at the other patrons. "Since this appears to be an Elysium and we have all this time on our hands, you can give me a bit of a who's who."
After a solid sixty five minutes of dredging his memories for background information and names on the neonates, ancillas and elders present, Only was more happy to see Balthazar than he had ever suspected he could be. As usual the information given was succinct, clinical and absolutely the bare minimum. The two interested parties retired to a table of their own again in order to consider their next move, the older man waving away an insistent Blood Doll in the process.
"Toreadors, eh? Which of those here do you know well enough to get close to," said the other as he sat down. Only had by this time christened him Sergeant Major, due to his no nonsense approach and hints of military bearing.
"None of my lot are left, as I mentioned before. Tempest was ripped up by a Lupine or similar when he was involved in some sort of treasure hunt for a mystical artifact. Uh. Saban was killed when the Elysium was turned into a bloodbath. Quite a few others got strung up from the rafters as well that night. They think it was something to do with the Sabbat." Eyes downcast as he sorrowfully remembered some of the few contemporaries he'd actually cared to spend time with, Only missed the flicker of emotion that wandered over the Sergeant's face.
"I'll do what I can. You get to wait again, I'm afraid. Unless you really want to watch me sucking up to Torries?" The look on his face was one of attempted disinterest, but the Sergeant could tell that the younger vampire would rather not have him present.
"Sure," he said with a slight grin. "I might learn a thing or two."
After less time than it would probably have been through the use of physical torture or the passing over of major boons, the two rose from the well appointed table of one of the Toreador elders, thanking her and then making their way towards the exit of the club.
"Mr Williams?" Looking more amused than anything else, the large man let the smaller through, holding the door for him.
"Well, a name was necessary, and that one seemed to suit, somehow. The 'I'm a friend' crap doesn't cut it with some people, you know. Dark and mysterious it might be, but polite it isn't necessarily."
Only's voice and manner had returned to his more usual forthright and slightly boorish manner, that of any number of teens. Now, however, the Sergeant had seen and heard another version of the young man, as he now thought of him. Yet another reminder, not that he of all people needed it, that not everything was as it seemed. Supernatural talents were not always necessary for the purposes of gaining assistance or altering others perceptions of one. Sometimes etiquette, good sense and knowledge produced far better results.
"Fair enough. Sergeant Williams it is," chuckled the bulking man. "At least I won't be expected to do a song and dance."
They had reached the car by this stage, and the Sergeant continued to observe the self proclaimed Malkavian as he unlocked the vehicle, allowing the unwashed scents of the interior to spread out into the rain washed street. He sniffed at himself and caught a scent of wet hair and clothing that mirrored the stronger ones inside. With an imperceptible shrug he entered and swung the door closed behind him.
"How far off is this Howick place that the Toreador ghoul was last seen in, then," the Sergeant asked gruffly. The night was hurrying along, and he hadn't expected quite as much sitting around. Enclosed by the flimsy Japanese car metal he damped a brief impulse to tear some of it away and instead lowered the window to let the sounds and scents of the world easy access.
With a momentarily worried glance, as if sensing his comrade's violent urges, Only returned his attention to the road that was now rushing away beneath them. "Should be fifteen minutes at this time of night," he said. "You look a little edgy. You okay?" There were no obvious outward signs, but he was certain of his feeling. Before death he had found himself less and less given over to spending time among people, as the intensity of their emotions had been an annoyance in the majority. A natural aptitude for empathy had not been decreased by his change to his present state, and so he fought against it still. Not wanting to make things worse, he had resisted his talent for paranormal mental abilities and had concentrated on more mundane ones. People annoyed him, yes, but he knew how to take most of them apart mentally and emotionally. Knowledge like that could be exceptionally useful.
An over bridge momentarily cut off all outside light, letting the pale headlights act as the primary source of navigation while the green glow from the dashboard highlighted the lines and curves of the driver's face. Beside him the bushy eyebrows of the Sergeant were also lit from below, though a ruddy colour, as the illumination came from the glowing scarlet eyes that continued in their quiet observation of the fellow occupant. Thus far Only had showed the solitude of a Gangrel, the bartering ability of a Nosferatu and, occasionally, touches of the anger of a Brujah. It would be interesting to see if he survived or burnt.
"Does this thing work," the passenger asked, motioning towards the low quality stereo sticking half out of the dashboard.
Only looked over for an instant. "Not well, but yes." Quickly, he set his eyes back on the road, but not before a startled reaction had been given to the glowing eyes of the other.
With a low chuckle, the Sergeant reached out one hand and filled the car with the sounds of life.
