12

Ward flinches away and your shot wings him in the neck. He growls in surprise, sucking air in through gritted teeth as his massive fingers clench harder around your neck. "I wanted to give you a chance, Mekuztli," he grunts. "but I guess you're not ready to hear the truth."

The muscles in his left hand tense around your neck as his right arm wraps around your torso with the speed of a viper. In your peripheral vision, you can see Qui charging forward, seemingly in slow motion as the world revolves around you in a sickening spiral. Ward heaves you backward with such force that the fragile brick wall explodes outward, sending you flying almost a hundred feet into the open air in a graceless arc, your world tumbling around you. Time seems to slow as you descend, jagged pieces of rebar slashing at your neck and chest as you manage to twist aside just in time to avoid being impaled grotesquely on the leaning wall of a partially demolished building. You hit the ground, skidding and twisting through a field of heavy gravel and chunks of pulverized concrete, abrasions tearing at your open wounds.

When you finally come to a stop, your vision swims, red-rimmed and dark in one eye. You blink, for a moment imagining you must be hallucinating, but then the spinning twin visions converge on each other, manifesting in the form of a cowering mortal couple. One of them has been struck in the head by a fist-sized chunk of brick. Blood oozes from the deep gash, and their companion, who had been holding a bit of cloth to their forehead in an attempt to stanch the flow, has dropped it in favor of shielding their partner. Stinging pangs of desire overwhelm you, and for a moment all you can see is a talking sack of meat and blood.

"Please…" the mortal stutters. "We need to get to a doctor!"

Stupid thing to say, if only because you doubtless look worse than they do. Your hands claw at the dust and gravel as you pull yourself forward, unable to vocalize your desperate need, your only true desire in this moment. Primal Hunger overwhelms years of social programming and Camarilla directives—the loss of Blood as your body mended itself has awakened the Beast within. You must feed.

As you grow closer, you lose focus again and the couple swims before your eyes, their faces changing into ghostly visions. As what remains of your humanity does battle with the Beast threatening to consume you, it digs through long-hidden memories, slowly reeling you back from the brink of madness. The appearance of the uninjured mortal twists and morphs until you are staring into a mirrored set of eyes, a mirrored face. A mirrored soul from a time before it was indelibly stained by corruption.

You would weep to see this earlier version of yourself if you had tears left to shed. (This choice determines your gender and age.)