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Vampires: The Masquerade Bloodlines - Turning Teeth

Algernon Blake was your average writer trying to make it big in Hollywood. But after a one-night stand, he's pulled into a Byzantine world of intrigue and manipulation among the undead. Can Algernon retain his humanity while satisfying the beast that rests within? A retelling of Vampire: the Masquerade Bloodlines with a male Tremere. Minor story differences. this is a unfinished fanfic from ff.net By: thebrillaintgrandmaster which i thought was really amazing and wanted to share it with you all

grimmhorizon · 游戏衍生
分數不夠
31 Chs

Chapter 9: Interlude: The Holy Hand Grenade (Bach)

"Father! You have a visitor."

Grunfeld Sebastian Bach looked up from his scripture to the tertiary beneath him. He firmly nodded and made a gesture, signaling to bring the visitor inside. The Society of Leopold had been acting secretively since the end of the Age of Exploration. For someone to come to his stronghold without notifying him in advance? Already, this was creating red flags. But surely it wouldn't be one of those demons of the night - it was noon. Nor would it be a werewolf, for they'd rather slaughter than speak. What could be be dealing with, then? A witch?

The woman that came in didn't seem like a witch. Or rather, she didn't feel like a witch. He didn't sense the black goat's taint on her. Rather, he felt a different type of taint. Bach couldn't explain, in human terms, how he sensed the supernatural. All he knew - or at least believed - was that the Holy Spirit showed him who was human and who wasn't. The more he studied the scripture, the more he exercised his belief, the stronger his connection to God and His angels became. The stronger the connection, the easier he could sense the foul aura of those touched by Satan's minions.

She was appealing enough, as if Bach would care. She had long, curly brown hair and olive-toned skin. Generally, her ethnicity was hard to place. Bach would guess Sicilian, due to her deep green eyes, but her exotic features more resembled someone from Romania or Serbia - some Eastern European country. The Satan's whore that dared walk through his doors smelled like...dare he say it? The demon he'd been hunting all of these years, mowing down his legions of fiends, as he will be 'till kingdom come?

LaCroix. He thought.

Normally, he'd smite the fiend on the spot, but he was curious as to why she came. Didn't she know that he would be able to sense the taint of her masters on her? No. How could she? The Society of Leopold's methods and abilities were a closely kept secret within the Church. None knew what they could do, except the Pope and God himself.

"Thank you for allowing me through your doors, Father." She said, her accent difficult to place. She sat down in the chair in front of him. Bach noticed that the v-line of her dress dipped low. Enticing, helpless. Even without the guidance of God Himself, he'd be able to tell this was a con.

"The House of God is open to all who wish to enter." Bach said. It was technically true, but technically a lie. "What is your name?"

"Wanda." She said. "Wanda Morozova."

Bach nodded a single time. "Okay. Wanda, what troubles you?"

Her seductive air disappeared, washing away and replacing with a troubled air. Bach had to admit, she was good. This would likely work on anyone who wasn't him. Was she an actress before selling her soul to Satan?

"Back where I live...in LA…" She said. "I-I...I went exploring near the outskirts of the city. Came across a mansion that was abandoned. And...I-I was with a friend, right? We went in and we saw all of these madmen with black masks and straitjackets on. They were just...laughing. A-And then they attacked, it was awful…

"My friends died. But then a man came out. Saved me. He introduced himself as...Grout. Alistair Grout. H-He led me into another room and…"

Bach laced his fingers together, propping his elbows on the table. His expression remained neutral as he leaned forward, resting his lips against his clasped hands. He gave a single, infinitesimal nod as Wanda trailed off, not believing her story for a second, but behaving as if he did.

"Go on." He said.

She gulped, very deliberately sticking her chest out with the gesture. "And...and he tried to kill me! He had fangs and he was laughing like a madman and...oh God, it was horrible!"

When she said "oh god", she crossed herself. Bach closed his eyes, mentally doing a prayer to commune with the Lord so that he could discern the truth from the lies. From what he could tell, she had never gone to the outskirts of LA, but there is an Alistair Grout that lives there. The reason Bach was in Southern California was to find LaCroix. Maybe if he finds and interrogates this fiend, then he'll spill on the location of LaCroix. It would be a fruitful journey. After all, where there was one fiend, there were hundreds of others sucking on the necks of God's children.

"This sounds very horrible, Wanda." Bach said calmly, almost coldly. "And you've come to us so that we may hunt this...Alistair Grout?"

Wanda nodded. "Yes, Father."

That was the truth. Interesting.

Bach took a deep breath. "Very well." He said. "One more thing, child."

Wanda raised an eyebrow. "Yes, Father?"

"I'm sorry about this."

Before Wanda could respond, Bach quickly drew his pistol from the holster on the side of his legs, shooting the whore of Satan right between the eyes. The bullet tore right through her skull, killing her instantly. The flesh around the hole blackened, slowly creeping across her body. Her taint was now revealed, the blackened tar color spreading across her body, ruining her exotic beauty.

Bach uttered a prayer beneath his breath. The hunters beneath him barged into the room, baring their guns, swords and knives.

"Father!" One of them said. "We heard gunshots. Is everything okay here?"

"Everything is better than okay, Brothers." Bach said, standing up from his chair. "The woman that had walked through our doors was one of LaCroix's minions, and I'd disposed of her accordingly. However, not before she gave us the location of one of the fiends she serves."

"She told you where LaCroix was?" One of the hunters asked in disbelief.

Bach shook his head. "No, child. But she had given me the name of an Alistair Grout. A madman outside of Los Angeles. That is where we will start our inquisition."

"With all due respect, Father…" A hunter asked, "Could it be a trap?"

"No." Bach said matter-of-factly. "The Lord is guiding us to the outskirts of LA. And that is where we will go. He wills it."

The hunter bowed his head. "Of course, Father."

"Besides…" Bach continued, looking down at the blackened corpse of Wanda. "Where one demon is, a hundred more hide in the shadows."

All of the hunters humphed in agreement.

Bach grabbed his coat and put it on, walking down the hall.

"Let's burn a village to kill a demon, boys." He said.