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The intense rain that had started the evening has stopped. Two men are standing in a narrow street, one of them, tall and gaunt. The other, short and stocky, he is smoking a rather big cigar. The pair are standing in front of a broken down, end of century building. The only light is that of the overhead street lamp. The first floor of this building has been reborn into a small night club. A neon sign above the black tinted windows reveal this particular esthablishement is called "The Vampire Lounge". The men seem to be having quite the conversation, the tall man, dressed in the ever so popular black suit, seems a bit put off by talking outside. The short man, dressed a tad more casual, keeps reassuring him that there is no harm outside. A third man, black clad also, steps out of the bar. He adjusts his suit, looks around and then ingages in oral intercourse with his companions. Like a giant explosion, the night sky rips apart, and with a mighty clash, thunder is heard, the calm before the storm has ended. The rain is falling. The tall man protests that the now damp and pouring street is inappropriate for him, the other two convince him to stay.
On the roof, crouched low next to the smilling visage of a large Gargoyle is another player in the game. Oblivious to the rain he bares down on the three men, ten stories above them. The man, if one wants to call him that, laughs slightly, his large and long coat now soaking wet, he licks his lips, adjusts his 3D shades and reaches under his arm. A rather large pistol now in his hand, he again reaches under the coat. Again he pulls out a weapon, smaller caliber, but this one has a sight. He shoots the red dot in his eye to see if it works, and sights away once the blinding dot startles him. He gets up and stands. He steps to the edge, his heavy boots splashing in the puddle that was forming there. He tilts his head for one last look at the trio downstairs. A woman scurries along the other side of the street, striving to get home and sheltering herself with her grocery bags. JoN allows her passage. He grins when she disappears from view. JoN bears down again on the men, who were also waiting for the woman to leave their street. JoN looks at his guns, anticipating the sound they make when he'll fire them. He notices running ink on his left hand, arm and once he looks under his shirt, chest. Oh yes! That's where he wrote down the location of this place when he killed the Assamite earlier on. (See A nItE in THe LifE of JoN dOe) He remembered the fear in the lad's eyes, he also remembers the fear in the family's eyes. He also remembers he had a meeting tonight with his fellow Sabbat. BAH! No matter, this would provide much more entertainment. He looked one last time at the three men, and wondered if they knew tonight was their last night. He chuckled and jumped off the edge, his coat flailing behind him. OH! How he loved this feeling of freedom, the fall, the rush of wind in his short black hair, in his coat, against his face. He takes aim and the trio on the pavement, who seem to be rushing towards him at high rates of speed. The short and stocky man will be a problem, he is in the middle, the other men are on each side, each one close to the other, How conveniant. JoN lets fly, shouting a total of 6 bullets, 3 to each side man, they quiver and their shoulders and skulls erupt with blood. The middle man looks to the sky, his cigar falling to the ground and JoN's boots falling squarely on his face. "THE EAGLE HAS LANDED!!!" Yells JoN. He crouches on the short man, and then stands up. The tall man has withstood the bullets better than the other, who was sent sprawling to the ground. JoN ducks his blows, and with a demonic roar, clamps the man's throat under his teeth. The Ventrue's neck is broken and JoN begins to drink him. Then, the man on the ground rushes JoN. JoN does not let go of his prey and turns his larger pistol to the man's abdomen. He does not notice JoN's speed and runs into the barrel of the gun, where JoN proceeds to empty the remainder of the clip. Loud and powerful noises fill the air, the recoil resonating throughout JoN's body. Oh, how he enjoys that sound. He revels in the rush of the diablerie. Sucking the very soul of his victim is enjoyable. When he is done, he simply unlocks his fangs and lets the body slump to the ground. He does the same to the other two men, though their loss of blood makes for small feedings. 3 less Camarilla. He reloads his spent ammunition, and drags the bodies to the plate glass window. He takes the stocky one in his left arm, and the other two in his right. He brings them back, and hurls them thru the window, it shatters, sprinkling the inside of the club with shards of glass. The bodies knock over a dozen people, the bar being filled with at least 60 people. 8 of them are Vampires, well, now 5. JoN does not care, they all should die, he will have his vengeance. The Bouncer, your typical mindless Brujah rushes through the window and lands on JoN. He takes him by the neck, just like the young Assamite before. He shifts his hand to a silvery claw and hacks him apart. The population of the bar now screaming and running off in all directions, he pulls his guns on the mob, and opens fire. Bound to hit a Camarilla. Shrieks of women, grunts of men and general sounds of panick echo thru the streets. Along with gunshots. JoN enters thru the window, guns blazing. Half an hour later, the police and fire departement arrive to a burning building. JoN is long gone.
What to do with the rest of the evenning? A bizarre light in an alley intrigues him,he goes in to investigate...
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(We pick up when JoN was investigating a weird light in an alley.)
The distant sound of sirens ring out as JoN's innocent side is being mystified at the lights pouring out of the alley, he enters and is startled by a fleeing cat, he quickly draws his weapon and shoots the alley cat. It dies instantly. His attention reverts back to the alley. He walks in, the light shuts off and reveals a tall man, strong of body and quite intimidating. Not that JoN would admit any feeling that would diminish his image. He recognises the man, his heart would skip a beat, but it hasn't beat in years.
It seems disoriented, it's back is turned. JoN sees...opportunity. He shifts his hands back to claws, reaches back and then, his cellular phone rings. JoN, as quick as lightning, picks up and says..
- This is JoN, talk to me! Says JoN, quite proudly, after all, he does so enjoy calls.
(Ere's voice can be heard from afar)
The figure turns to JoN and smiles. He reaches to JoN and clamps down on his head with an oversized and powerful hand. He rams JoN's head into the wall several times.
(Ere, you distinctly hear: WHACK WHACK WHACK WHACK WHACK WHACK WHACK WHACK WHACK WHACK WHACK WHACK WHACK WHACK WHACK WHACK WHACK WHACK WHACK WHACK WHACK WHACK WHACK WHACK WHACK WHACK WHACK WHACK WHACK WHACK WHACK WHACK WHACK WHACK Then the phone goes dead)
The tall figure casts JoN aside and walks in circles around him.
- Now now now JoN, we've know each other for a while, what makes you think you could have caught me off guard like that.
JoN mumbles something trough his blood filled mouth, spitting out teeth and pieces of bone. JoN is kicked in the ribs with violent force. He moans in pain.
- The others resist JoN. You'll pay for that. I know you. I know how to make you crack. You best give me what I want JoN, remember what happened last time. Remember what I did to that Thomas fellow. I want knowledge. I want what all MalkAVians seem to know. The truth. You will give it to me won't you JoN. Or else I'll go after Thomas again, maybe even after that Harley person you seem to care so much about.
While the demonic personna was making his speech, JoN was crawling away and heading for the street.
- AH Ah ah! That's a no no JoNnY!
The creature lifts up a leg and stomps down on JoN's spine. Paralyzing him. JoN controls his pain and turns to his assailant. It towers over him and grins...
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The Being looms over JoN, raising its foot for a another bone shattering blow. "I should never have bothered with you. Too intractable, too violent for your own good." It giggles lightly at its finger pointing, then looks up as the sound of revelers coming down the alley.
"No no no no Pete! I'm telling you, the whole dream thing was a metaphor for the alienation he felt towards his mother, an alienation as deep as that felt by any man who just happens to lead a life that seems so overtly violent that..." Another younger voice interrupts with, "Oh blow out it your ear Alex, not everything's a metaphor!" Three GenX looking men turn the corner. One's tall, thin and pale, dressed in a purple suit. Another has rather simian features and green hair. The last looks rather confused and is dressed in a much more conservative black suit. They all stop and stare at JoN's rather brutalized form.
The being snarls at the interlopers. "Get out!", it cries, eyes glowing menacingly. The green haired youth and the confused looking man follow this advice. The Purple suited youth however, grins. "Hey that's a pretty cool trick you got there! But doesn't that sorta break the Masquerade? I mean, I've always taken it to be just a mere set of guidelines myself but glowing eyes for a bunch a drunken Kine well not exactly kine honestly but how did you know that anyway? BUT the point I'm trying to make here is that one shouldn't go around doing that sort of thing as I'm sure you're aware if you're tough enough to do THAT to HIM..."
The youth continues on (thankful yet again that he doesn't need to pause to breathe). Under this verbal barrage JoN's assailant wilts momentarily, then backhands the youth across the face. There's a sickening crunch and the youth's body sails across the alley and settles into a heap on the ground. "How DO these fools gain such insight?", it mutters before fading out.
A grim silence settles over the alleyway. JoN slowly begins to heal the damage done to him. The purple suited youth shimmers and changes appearance to the confused looking youth, battered, bloody, his neck bent at an unnatural angle. The purple suited youth blinks into view standing over the body, as the green haired youth drops from a nearby fire escape. The simian-looking friend sighs. "Weren't you going to feed off of this one, Alex?" "Well, yeah, but how was I supposed to know ugly was gonna bust my, well his, chops? Wonder if it was the Obfuscate that fooled him, or your Cantrip? " The purple clad youth smiles down at JoN, "Hey there. Judging from the fact that you're not breathing but still trying to stand up, I'd assume your a Vamp? Hi, I'm Alex Derenkov, writer and Malkavian. My primate visaged companian is Petey, he's an Unseelie Pooka. Want some help?"
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Meanwhile, a few blocks away in a shabby part of town there is a tinkling of laughter and a warm glow of light's from a McDonald's. Outside on the street a few homeless men with scaggy beards sit quietly around a small fire, eating fresh burgers and playing with McDonald figurines. One grows disgusted and tosses his into the fire, where it melts cheerfully. "Serves 'im right, the purple bastard!" cries another, and soon the smell of burning plastic seeps through the air.
Inside the setting is more cheerful, if bizarre. Large drawings in crayon and charcoal adorn the walls, and turned over tables and blankets form several tents in the corners. Mustaches and other crude scribbles adorn the Ronald and Grimace figurines, along with a few choice words describing their ancestry. The lights are dim and flickering. About 20 people of various scruffyness are split into small groups, amiably chatting, backrubbing, playing horseshoes or sleeping. One lone man is speaking to his crotch.
"A...B...C....deee......HELLO, are you listing down there?" he taps his crotch in an authoritative manner. "Come on! A...C....D...I can't HEAR YOU..."
"Eh Marc, could you and your friend there keep it down, what?" says a pale woman in a red McDonald's Uniform. Her badge says "GRaND POOBA PARR" in clumsy lettering. "We're having a game, here, you know." Marc nods and settles down into the corner, facing the wall and continues signing.
Parr turns back and flings a shoe that misses completely and whacks the soft drink machine with a loud 'dink!'. "Drat drat drat, you've won again, Regina!" she exclaims and pats an older woman on the back.
"I c'nt help it, deerie, I used to be George Bush's wife in an'ter life, ya know" brags Regina as receives her paper crown. "Or t'was that Carter? Damn." Parr bites her lip and smiles, picking up horseshoes.
"I think that'll be it for tonight, everyone. I'll dim the lights and you're all welcome to stay till seven...where's the last shoe?"
"You.u....throo oo o w...counter..." stammers a young asian man with a McDonald's tag that reads "Kick ME".
"Oh yes, right. I'll be back in a minute, then, and could someone get Marc to settle down? Please?"
"Rig..g.g...righh..yes."
Parr puts the horseshoes back in a bag and over her shoulder. Putting one hand on the counter, she attempts to leap over it and fails miserably, spilling horseshoes all over. Grumbling, she snags one from under a fryer labeled "DO NOT STICK YER HAND IN HERE!!" and the rest from the floor. Taking a large key from her pocket, she unlocks a door labeled 'Manager', kicks it open and smacks on a dim fluorescent bulb and fan.
Inside are a variety of toys, papers, books and broken furniture. Putting the bag down she sighs deeply and settles into a black Lazyboy clone that smells faintly of Irish Spring. "Oh Lord, oh lordohlord" she whispers as she rubs her temples. "What a night..." Alone, she seems to crumple, to loose all her animation and life. Dark lines sit under her eyes and her lids are slowly falling, fluttering. She begins to notice the dust in the air; twirling, falling, twirling, falling...Two moths outside are fluttering against a yellow bulb; they look almost like eyes, bright yellow eyes staring out of the blackness...the wind sounds like whispers...
M a l k a v i a n...
A horrid stab of ice-cold fear shakes Parr as she blinks rapidly. *Was I dreaming?*, she thinks, *or was there truly a voice, a chilling voice that...no, of course not I...*******
Parr screamed as she felt jabbing, icy pain rip through her chest. The horror was suffocating; she was screaming and gasping. A huge face appeared, the eyes glowing so horribly, blinding yellow that the rest of the face was masked by the shine. It spoke in a hollow imitation of a human voice, with no inflection or emotion.
"Now, Malkavian. I see that I have gained your attention, have I not? Listen carefully. I want to know your secret, your knowledge."
Struggling wildly, Parr did not answer. She clutched wildly at her neck, at her chest. She thrashed about in a blind panic and overturned the halogen light. *My chest!! The pain!!*
The minutes wore on as the face waited dispassionatly and the vampire thrashed. Finally, it spoke again. "Malkavian. You have no weapons. You have no power. You cannot fight me. Tell me what knowledge you possess. Now." Exhausted, the vampire slipped to the floor, her eyes half open. Tears tricked down her face and her own flesh was under her fingernails. Parr's mind was a red haze of pain, but her blind panic was beginning to fade and her reason to function again.
"What..knowledge?"
The voice took on a slightly annoyed tone. "The knowledge that all your kind possess. You claim to deny its existence, but you must know it. Speak."
*She...must be a raving loony...* "The Children of Malkav....hold...no such knowledge." *Perhaps she wants....the Tremere?* smile
"You, and your kind seemed to be gifted by an obscure twist of fate with a powerful understanding of the universe. Although you seek to hide it, you never the less have it. And I seek it, as I seek all knowledge."
"In that case, your quest... is futile....the only thing that...bonds Malkvians...is the bonds of sheer and utter lunacy!" Parr laughed a high, thin raspy laugh. "Fool!"
The voice was definitely getting pissed off.
"I" stab "KNOW" stab "YOU HAVE IT!" stab jab "TELL ME NOW!" Parr's only response was rapid and ragged screams. They slowed and died out.
The face hovered over the unconscious body. Perhaps, she thinks, I have simply taken the wrong approach. Perhaps I should simply expend the energy and probe its mind...yes, and end this foolishness. She stirs the body below her to wakefulness again. It sobbed quietly. "I don't know....don't know...."
"Quiet. I will find what I need to know by searching your mind. Prepare yourself."
*Prepare myself? bitter laugh . . . sob What does she want?!? Oh Lord!...*
Somewhere inside, Parr knew she was going to die. Again. That core of
bitterness
that was allways inside took over.
*Bitch!!...come into my mind? I'll ***in prepare myself...Sire, hold on,
I'm comin to meet you....smile...j'honga...niasu!....*
As the tendrils of that powerful being worked their hold into her mind, Parr gave herself deliberately to madness. She forced herself to remember the things that made her scream, made her recoil in fear. It was the pure, bitter hatred of a broken soul.
Remember the night of your turning! Remember the blood running down your arms?
Remember ripping your skin off, gouging your eyes out only to have them anew?
Remember the murder, the killing? All those you have destroyed?
**YOU ARE A MURDERER GOD MUST DESTROY YOU**
Remember before that? Remember the beatings, the horror, the shame?
**YOU ARE A SLUT YOU DESERVED IT**
Oh yes, do you remember that horrible thing of which you cannot speak? Do you? Remeber it, endure it, you slut, you murdering bitch!! Sink into the depths of madness, plunge!
SCREAM
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When dawn came to the city, it found the McDonald's empty. Overturned boxes and scattered belongings gave notice that the inhabitants had left quickly. A few burgers remained, half eaten. Someone had fled with the statue of Ronald, and the ashes of Grimace were found a few blocks away. Inside an interior room, a single heart beat slowly, slowly. The dawn left it well alone.
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