Chapter 18: Southland 4-2

"Nice work, Algernon. I felt that explosion a mile away." Tung said, meeting me halfway through the sewer passage he guided me through. "It's all over the news, too. Man, there's going to be some pissed off Sabbat howlin' for blood tonight."

"Thanks." I said. I didn't really care much about screwing over the Sabbat - or rather, I did, but I cared about whether or not my "trial" was over. Hopefully, I wouldn't be anyone's errand boy now, especially since what I'd done could end up putting me on a government watch list. "Hey...do you know someone named Beckett?"

Tung shrugged as we walked through the sewers. "I know of him. Why?"

"I spoke with him." I answered.

Tung raised an eyebrow or...I think he dd. His deformed face made his expressions almost impossible to read.

"No kidding." He said. "Must be something major happening if he's in town. He's a historian of sorts. He's unearthed more vampire lore than anyone. That's all Beckett does; seek the truth behind our...condition."

I nodded. "I had a question."

Tung stopped. "Mhm?"

"The way you talked about my Sire, Justine…" I said. "What do you know about her?"

Bertram pushed air through his mouth, his leathery, warty cheeks puffing up briefly.

"Well," he began. "Your Sire was high-ranking in the Tremere - your clan. She was the Regent's right hand, or at least one of them. The Tremere are so damn tight-lipped about everything, I can't even catch much gossip, but from what I've gathered she was essentially a Camarilla poster child. She'd done a lot of running around for the Prince and for her Primogen, worked with the Anarchs, though I can't say if she particularly liked them, or if they liked her. Overall? She was a mixed bag. Opinions on her depended on who you talk to."

I frowned. "She was a poster child? Why'd she break the rules and Embrace me then?"

"Hell if I know, kiddo." Tung drawled. "It's gotten a lot of people talking, though, I'll tell you that."

What could drive such a stickler for the rules to break the rules anyway? What was going on with Justine when she Embraced me? I wished I had the answer to that. In a way, that felt like the real mystery here. And I had a feeling this M. Strauss, the Tremere Regent, would be able to tell me.

"Well, this is where we part ways." Tung said as soon as we approached one of the manholes. "Now that you blew up the warehouse, LaCroix should be letting you into LA. Just grab a cab or something."

I nodded and began to climb up the metal ladder. "It was nice working with you, Tung. Goodnight."

LA was one of those cities that you just liked, even if you hated it. As the cab left Santa Monica and headed towards Downtown LA, low buildings, sandy beaches, and dense forces became high towers of concrete. There were nightclubs on every corner, more people walking the streets, and that overall false glamour that many cities had. Los Angeles wasn't called the city of angels for nothing. There were more attractive people walking the streets than unattractive people, hopeful stars and starlets hoping to make it big. In a way, they were trying to get their own slice of eternity, attempting to immortalize themselves on the big screen.

I lived in LA before I was turned. I had moved to Santa Monica temporarily to get away from the inner city riff raff. If I knew then what I know now, I never would've set foot in that beach town, but I couldn't take it back now. It wasn't as if I could walk through time - unless that was one of those secret vampire powers I had that I was going to unlock later on. The cab dropped me off on an empty street away from pedestrians at my request, so I slipped him a fifty, told him to keep the change, and got out. I watched him drive off into the night, then I began walking down the street towards downtown.

Of course, someone decided to start shit with me immediately. As soon as I got close to an alleyway, a thug that looked like he might be a Sabbat vampire jumped out, hitting me in the head hard enough to make me black out. When I started to come to, I began to hear their horrible, inhuman voices.

"Let's drain it." One of them hissed.

"Let's stake it and leave it out for the sunrise." Another one hissed.

"We're going to have a lot of fun with this one." Another growled.

I opened my eyes and saw three Sabbat vampires standing over me. They were all practically indistinguishable from each other, wearing what basically amounted to rags - probably homeless men that were turned into shovelheads. Their beady black eyes held nothing but pure hatred and rage in them. It was a look I recognized, a look I saw in Lily's eyes when I rescued her.

"Think you can blow up our warehouse and get away with it?" One of the vampires barked. "Huh, lick?"

The vampire next to him must've thought that was hilarious for some reason, because the dumb brute burst out laughing. After a snort, he said, "Let's pull out its eyes and its tongue and its teeth."

"I want its teeth." One of them said. "Camarilla fuck!"

The thug to the right of me stomped hard on my chest, making me howl out in pain. Despite being beanpole thin, he stomped down on me like a fucking sledgehammer.

"Boys," He said. "I think we can all use a little entertainment."

He was going to lunge at me, but then I heard the sound of a gunshot, then a splatter of blood as a gaping hole formed in the back of the vampire's head. The Sabbat vampire fell to his knees, hissing.

"Son of a bitch!" He yelled.

I looked to the direction of where the gunshot came from and saw a man pointing a revolver at the Sabbat. His features were Hispanic, and he had ash gray skin, cropped-short hair, and a beard. He wore a blue button-up shirt over a white tank top, which was tucked into his jeans. He looked absolutely intense as he aimed the gun at the Sabbat, holding a controlled fury about him that was terrifying.

"Leave." He ordered them.

"There's three of us, Rodriguez." One of the Sabbat vampires reminded him.

"Yeah." The other one rasped.

The dumb brute that stomped me began to burst out laughing again. I was having a difficult time understanding this guy's sense of humor. After he managed to stop laughing, he said, "Three of us."

"Waddya gonna do? Shoot us?"

Rodrigues said nothing and patted his side. I looked and saw… Jesus, was that a grenade?!

One of the Sabbat vampires - the dominant one, I'd gathered - growled.

"This ain't over." He hissed, turning back to look at me. "We'll find you." - He turned to look at Rodriguez - "You too, Rodriguez. You're both dead! Nobody messes with the Sabbat and lives!"

"Keep moving." Rodriguez ordered calmly.

They sneered at him and turned around, walking away from the scene. Rodriguez waited for a moment and walked towards me, letting out a gentle sigh.

"Trouble sure seems to like you." He mused.

I got up. "Yeah, well-"

A quick patter of feet hitting concrete, and the dominant Sabbat vampire lunged at Rodriguez. It would've worked, too, but Rodriguez immediately had the barrel of his revolver pressed against the vampire's sternum. Coldly, he regarded the vampire and said, "Good effort, but..." Before pulling the trigger, turning the vampire into ash.

Holy fuck. My eyes widened. This Rodriguez guy was so fast that I didn't even see him change positions to raise his gun! How was that possible? I knew for a fact that I was abnormally fast, but this guy was on a completely different level.

"...Execution needs a little work." He continued.

"Holy fuck." I muttered. "I didn't even see you move…"

"Yeah?" Rodriguez asked, quizzical. "Neither did he. You look like shit."

"It's been a rough night." I told him. "Algernon."

"Name's Nines." He replied.

"Thanks for the help."

"Yeah, well you should've been more careful, newbie. This ain't the burbs."

I suddenly felt embarrassed. Now that I was closer to him, he looked familiar...then I remembered. I saw him nights ago, among the sea of faces that were judging me and my Sire. He's the one that spoke up for me at the theater!

"You're the guy at the court." I remarked.

"Kid, I've got a lot of things to deal with." He told me. "Why don't you pay me a visit at the Last Round tonight. I don't know what you've heard so far, but it's time you heard the real story."

That sounded promising. Finally, someone willing to be more up-front with me. Maybe he could tell me about Justine.

"I'll do that." I promised.

"This is a mean existence." He said. "Stay out of trouble kid."

With that, he left me alone on the street.

Finding LaCroix would be difficult if there wasn't a massive building called "LaCroix" in LA. It was funny, back when I was living, I assumed it was some kind of hotel. Now I know it's a hotel that is, in fact, owned by a vampire. When I got to the entrance, I caught sight of a few suspiciously pale people walking in and out of the tower, all of which were dressed in ways ranging from fashionable to downright bizarre. Hell, there was even a guy dressed in a pimp coat and a giant, striped tophat like the Cat-in-the-Hat. I walked through the doors to the fancy lobby and saw the very same security guard from Gallery Noir sitting at the desk.

What, was God running out of extras to my life or something?

"You...look familiar." The security guard said. "We haven't met before, have we?"

"Yeah, we had." I reminded him.

"Oh yeah! Back in Santa Monica, right?" He asked. "I don't know what came over me back there but… now I got this sweet night shift position, and... I'm happier than the time I met Sipowicz."

"Well, that's good." I said. "I've had a rougher night, as you can see."

"Oh boy...yeah, I can see that. Eh...nothin' a few band-aids can't fix, eh?" He asked, chuckling. "You here to see one of the big wigs, chief?"

"Yeah, I'm here to see LaCroix."

The guard smirked. "Would that be Sebastian LaCroix of the LaCroix Foundation, or Dwayne LaCroix of Insurrection Baby Formula Company?"

"The second one." I deadpanned. "No, I want to see Sebastian LaCroix."

The guard squinted at a note in his desk. "Hm...okay then. Mr LaCroix told me to expect someone fitting your description sometime tonight. You go right on up."

"Glad it's not some other devilishly handsome guy with holes in his clothes." I said. "I'll see you."

"Yeah, uh, you have a good power meetin' or uh, whatever it is you types do up there." He told me. "You need any security, you just ring the front desk and ask for Officer Chunk. That's me, in case you're wondering."

I had to restrain myself from laughing. That was a very unfortunate name, considering his...physique.

"Right...I'll be seeing you, Chunk."

I took the elevator up to the penthouse suite. LaCroix's office looked less like an office and more like a lounging room in one of those old hellfire clubs, where rich old nobles would sit around talking about the philosopher's stone or something. There were paintings of people I didn't recognize along the walls, followed by a massive hearth that I swear you could throw a body into - which, considering the vampire weakness to fire, I couldn't help but think was by design. There were several others in the room with me, all in couches and lounging almost idly, speaking with each other about various things and societies I knew nothing about. All of them eyed me with absolute distaste, and suddenly I didn't feel like I was supposed to be there.

At the end of the room sat LaCroix himself at his desk. Next to him was his bodyguard, still as a statue, but intimidating and looming over the entire room. He stared straight ahead, past me. It made me wonder if he was a construct like that blood guardian I'd fought, or if he was an actual person. I'd have to find out sometime.

Once I approached his desk, LaCroix rose from his seat. His expression was unreadable, something between disappointment and neutrality. I couldn't tell if he was pleased I was here or not. On the desk was something wrapped in a leather coat, and I could feel that more than I felt anything in the room.

"There you are." The Prince said. "I was informed of your presence in the building. Since you are here, I'll take the liberty of assuming you destroyed the warehouse… this is correct, yes?"

"Yes, that is. But I-"

"Most excellent." He said, cutting me off. Already, I wanted to strangle this guy. "I had no doubt you'd prove my decision a prudent one. I trust you encountered no...impediments to your progress on account of my personnel?"

"I encountered impediments, alright." I said, shrugging. "But...not on account of any of your guys, no."

"That is the answer I'd like to hear." LaCroix said, finally smiling. It was very obviously fake, but polite enough to not be offensive. "You've done well, circumstances being what they were. I will admit, not many in your… position would have overcome such a trial."

Translation: he didn't expect me to survive. That, if nothing else, gave me a sense of vindictive satisfaction. If the Prince didn't expect me to survive, those other people that watched me on trial, judged me probably didn't either.

"Please don't misunderstand me." LaCroix continued. "It was no fool's errand. You may yet prove to be a genuine asset. It's a bit disturbing, the lack of talent within this organization as of late… In light of this, I have decided to reward your success by granting you the effects of your Sire."

He pushed over the jacket and the things within. I picked it up and saw that the coat was a black and red leather duster that was exactly my size, strangely enough. The duster was wrapped around a black leather satchel and a strange-looking book that was about as thick as the Bible. These were Justine's personal things? It was a little weird but...for some reason, I didn't want to deny myself of these things. I felt as if I should have them. Was it because Justine was my Sire?

"Thank you, Prince LaCroix." I said. "Is there anything else?"

"Yes." He said. "It has come to my attention that you had an encounter with Nines Rodriguez. The man so does love to throw that cretinous charm of his brashly about. What exactly did Mr. Rodriguez say?"

"He asked me to come visit him at the Last Round."

The Prince's eyebrows furrowed. This obviously displeased him.

"I see." He said. "Then, you should go humor the by-the-numbers rhetoric he's so desperately aching to spew. Oh please, before the chants of 'fascist oppressor' from that dive of theirs clog the air and choke the local kine."

The contempt with which he talked about them reminded me of how Therese...er...Tourette talked about the Nosferatu. It seemed that vampires had a lot of hate for different groups, which made me wonder where I stood. Personally, I was willing to hear Nines out because he saved me twice now.

"I'll do that right away." I told him.

"Give the Anarch community my regards." Said the Prince.

I nodded. So that's what Rodriguez's group was called? The Anarchs?

"Very well." I said, then left the suite.

I'd actually been to the Last Round a few times before when I was human. Back then, you wouldn't have been able to convince me that it's a vampire bar. Granted, I didn't believe in vampires at all, but you get the point. Instead of having that sinister air like The Asylum, another vampire establishment I'd been in, the Last Round seemed like any old bar. When I walked in, I caught several of the vampires glancing at me with expressions ranging from disgust to downright curiosity. All of the Kindred there looked pretty young - but then again, so did Tourette.

Ignoring the glances, I walked to the stairs, only to be blocked by a tall black guy. His skin was a very dark shade of ash gray, and he wore a simple beige tee shirt and jeans. The most striking thing about him were his eyes - his pupils were slit, like a cat's, and the irises were golden. Just what kind of vampire was he, I wondered?

"Well, if it isn't the talk of the town; the poster child for Camarilla benevolence." He began, his voice absolutely full of contempt and aggression. "What errands does the prince have you runnin' today, boy?"

For a moment, I was speechless. I didn't expect to be treated this way as soon as I walked through the door, as if I pissed in everyone's drink. What the fuck was his problem? What did I do to deserve this treatment?

"Funny." I said flatly. "Is Nines around?"

"Nines is expecting you. Have some manners and don't wear out your welcome." He told me. "I'm Skelter. Act up and I'll be the one showing your ashes to the door."

Well, at least the threat wasn't veiled. These Anarchs sure were aggressive, but why? More importantly, why were they aggressive to me, and why did they say the name of the Camarilla with such contempt? I remembered that I was here specifically to get the answer to those questions.

"I'm Algernon." I said, trying to remain amiable and resist the urging from the Beast to separate this guy's blood from his body. "Nines is upstairs?"

He nodded firmly, and I went up.

Upstairs was pretty empty, save for Nines himself who was sitting at a table, cleaning a gun. Without looking up at me, he waved me over. I walked up to him and sat down on the stool in front of him.

"You showed up. Good." He said, finally looking up at me. "Here's what I got to tell you - and so you know, I don't lecture, I don't rap, I'm no bureaucrat; I'm just a guy out of nowhere who came to be involved in something five hundred times bigger than you and me."

"Okay." I said. "Go on."

"You have a right to know the score. The Camarilla - this is the short of it. They operate a lot like a pyramid scheme. There's a bunch of old timers at the top, with God only knows what plots in mind. They lose their power, they die. They Sired more to carry out their plans, and lookin' for a little power, then those Kindred Sired for their own schemes and so on and so on - it hurts my head just thinkin' about the mess. What it works out to be is this: only a few people at the top have any real power."

I frowned. It seemed this was bigger than I thought.

"Isn't the Prince the leader of the Camarilla?" I asked.

"LaCroix? Shit…" Nines scoffed. "LaCroix is just the guy who backstabbed and wheeled-and-dealed his way into becoming king son of a bitch of all the local Camarilla. Him and any o' the traitors that sided with the Cam want power here, they'll get what's due."

That sounded very final. It looked like the Prince wasn't on as steady ground as it seemed.

"I bet they will." I agreed. "Um...so what are you all about?"

"I learned the way of this world during the Great Depression. Bunch of old, rich bastards screwed the country, but did they suffer? No - the little people suffered. You can't trust the people at the top. The world's a better place without 'em." He explained.

Personally, I both agreed and disagreed with him. Ever since I'd become a vampire, I was just getting bossed around people, hearing about thin-bloods being hunted for sport. Those orders must've been coming from up top. At the same time, vampires were a very vicious sort - hell, even I had my moments. Without some sort of structure to vampire society, we'd just end up like the Sabbat, right?

"Well...what would you prefer?" I asked. "If you're going to get rid of the people at the top, some kind of system has to replace it."

"All you can do is get a group of people together who aren't assholes." He explained. "Find a place to put your feet up, and make some examples of the quote-unquote elite to keep the rest the hell out. Everyone's an equal here, the same thing this country used to be about. That's what LA has been, an Anarch Free State."

My eyebrows furrowed. "Anarch Free State?"

Nines crossed his arms. "We kicked the Camarilla out on their ass a long time ago. We, the Anarchs, didn't want to play their politics anymore. Now they're coming back like they never left - uh-uh, no goddamn way! Their laws don't apply to us."

"Have you tried meeting with the Camarilla?" I offered.

"I got their meeting right here." Nines growled, pulling out a very fancy-looking pistol from his side, loading a magazine into it as if he were ready to go on a rampage. My eyes widened to the size of dinner plates. I felt they might pop out of my skull. Wasn't expecting that reaction.

"Woah - hey, hey!" I said, raising my hands. "Not a fan of the Prince?"

"LaCroix represents everything that I hate." Nines said. "Stuck-up aristocrats, rich businessmen, crooked politicians… The only place LaCroix belongs is in an urn."

"Any advice you can give me?" I asked.

"I'll tell you what I tell all of the newbies: One, you get careless, that blood'll turn you into a monster - but you rampage 'round here you get put down. Two, don't kill when you feed - but Jack told me he went over that one with you."

I nodded. So Jack was one of these Anarchs? It explained his distaste for the Prince. I wondered where he was now.

"Three:" Nines continued. "Camarilla's full o' shit. Four, watch your back. Always. And lastly, learn how to fight, cuz a speech ain't gonna save your ass when you're staring down the barrel of a shotgun."

"As someone who has been in that situation five times by now, I agree." I said, nodding. "Can you give me any pointers?"

"Yeah, after picking your ass up off the street, I can tell you need some basic training." He said. "Come over some other time. I'll give you pointers."

"Thanks for the help, Nines."

He waved his hand almost dismissively. "LA's the school of hard knocks, so keep your friends close and your enemies in a barbecue pit. Once you square things with LaCroix, don't give that son of a bitch the time o' night. I got my eye on you, kid."

I walked out of the Last Round a bit more enlightened on the state of things. From what I could tell, the Camarilla and the Anarchs were at odds with each other, and I hadn't met a single vampire yet that liked the Prince. I wasn't sure that I did either, and he didn't seem to like me. I didn't know what side I wanted to be on, frankly, but something told me that I was going to be forced to choose very soon. Now I had one final thing to do.

Taking out the note I'd received back on my first night, I read over it again:

Dark blood, our curse, a light this verse

Such power I sense in one so young

Come find me where burns the mystical sun.

I grumbled to myself. Now I had to figure out what this shit means.