From: BLACKHORDE

Date: Thursday, May 08, 1997 1:26 AM

To: Vampire The Masquerade

Subject: Dbn: Where are wheeeeeeee goin ...

This is for those who miss me and support me most.<s>

Canths ears perk up, Shen jumps slightly, they both look towards the mansion.

"You heard that too?"

Shen nods. Grimaces. "Why, in Gaeas great expanse, did you ever think that sending those two loons would acheive anything? They are incompetent at the simplest task. They are incompetent at breathing!"

"They don't breath, they're vampires."

"You know what I mean."

"No."

"They're fools!"

"They're my friends."

"We could have done better without them."

"I want you to go get the rest."

"WHAT???"

"Go."

Hair standing on end, he remains unmoving, seething almost. "Tell me you are not serious."

"go." Canths usual lustrous fur hangs drabbly upon her muscular frame, weary.

Perhaps another Garou would have seen this as a chance to challenge for dominance, with a leader showing such weakness the pack could only benefit from strong blood. Perhaps one other than Shen would have. Perhaps. He places his hand upon her shoulder, noticing Canth tense at his touch, and looks her in the eyes. "I do this for Gaea. Perhaps she will yet show you the wisdom to find your path unhindered by the Wyrm. I know it has not been easy. The other vampires will come even if I have to drag them here screaming." With that said, Shen leaves with a swift stride. Preparing himself for the opening of the moon gate.

A light deep in Canths eyes glimmers faintly. It kindles and smolders not quite burning, so much as it sizzles. A damp fire. One day he would know what horrors the vast world held. For now he could hold onto his ignorance and his pride. It was more beautiful than many forests, grew twice as fast and thrice as strong. You will be most wonderous if you survive dear Shen. Gaea help you for what your mother has done...

 

RUN

Down the stairs, leap, flee. Around the bend, weep, see. Cages.

When they had dove as deeply down the winding stairs as possible, the Malkavians found themselves in a make shift dungeon. Cages, some empty, some containing Garou, stood along the left side as they exited the stairwell. Odd computer panels lined the right wall. Lights blinked on and off. Needles within glass cases trembled only slightly from their current readings.

wHo? liked the blue LED's best.

millie wanted to agree with wHo?, but wasn't sure what he thought, so she asked him. "What do you think?"

"Honestly?"

"Um..."

"..." wHo? waited.

"Yes?"

"Not much."

They both exchanged smiles.

The puppies were chained.

After a quick, (mind numbingly fast for those not familiar with Malkavian proceedings), survey of the situation, they both agreed that the puppies must be freed. wHo? decided they were too morose to hurt anyone and millie knew that none of them would have the heart, to hurt her, or the will power. Confining chains quickly became discarded rattle toys and with some prompting from millies smile and glowing eyes the gathered werewolves ceased to look like a kennel of beaten currs and began to resemble a gathering of overjoyful puppies. Puppies with very large canines, but cute none-the-less. In all this time, including the slamming metal door, their flight down the stairs and rescue of the, not quite 101, kinda like half dozen, definitely not dalmations, but some had spots, Garou, no one had come to investigate their intrusion. The Malkavians took it in stride to be suspicious for half an instant before forgetting what it was about and turning their attention to the computer panel. It was obvious that it was meant to do something.

BANG!

millie jumped and raised her eyebrows at wHo?, who shrugged in turn.

"Thought it might talk. The police do it all the time."

"Huh?"

"Stop or I'll shoot?"

"Where does the talking come in?"

"When they question them obviously."

"Oh."

With wHo?'s obvious genious glaring through in bright technicolor, millie didn't have the heart to start a debate about dead people not being subject to questioning, when she was full aware that she was dead herself. Perhaps the genius wasn't so technicolor.

"Let me push some buttons..." millie went to work trying this switch and that, looking for any sequence that might cause something to happen.

wHo? was doing his very best, but had become sidetracked into pushing the buttons on his cell phone. The 'No Carrier' LED was flashing. Never before having witnessed this phenomenon, he found it quite fascinating he also seemed able to dial the number in Rome that he normally couldn't get very well. The usual man answered blathering about improper use of chantry privileges, demanding to know the name of the neonate responsible for this outrageous prank. wHo? could think of no better name to give than "Sigmund?", and quickly hung up. millie was tapping him on the shoulder.

 

Sneak.

Sneak, sneak.

Sneak, sneak, sneak.

Somehow millie had managed to shut the power off in the mansion. All the dials and buttons and LED's had gone dark. Now they were going upstairs. The following of garou made it impossible to be completely quiet, but they were well covered by a furry escort of anxiously overhelpful puppies who had twice succeeded in tripping up wHo? and millie once. They gained the entry hall in a gaggle of bristled fur and lolling tongues.

"Put your tongue away, millie." scolded wHo?

millie pouted. "The puppies are doing it..."

"We're on important business here."

"Oh, right." millie nodded in ascent and stopped lolling her tongue around. "What next?"

wHo? looked around the entry hall, listening.

Silence reigned cold and stagnant.

Raising his eyebrows to follow the sweeping staircases wHo? murmered, "Let's trash the place?"

"Upstairs?"

Vampiric smiles glowed in the dimness.

 

"Perhaps I didn't hear you quite right, friend, cuz I know you didn't say summon to me, did you?"

Shen looked down upon the seated vampire who lounged at the table before him. The Church. If any place in the city were of the wyrm, this was it. Corruption and evil clung to the very fabric which made up the establishment, draperies fairly seething with taint hidden within the folds of the place. The music, loud and grating, pounded around the night club like a banshees wail. He was surrounded.

"Stay if you will, I am only a ... messenger." Shen found it difficult to voice the word. Canth would owe him dearly for this.

Noting the mortals discomfort, Ryk, couldn't help but make it worse. This was almost amusing. "Give me one good reason." He could not remember when he had smiled so long at one period of time before, well without his Malkavian cheering party around that is. Where had they gotten off too...

"Canth said you would come. She said you'd be interested in what was taking place in France, some of your companions as well..." He took this time to glance over at Joseph Tudor and a woman named Rebecca that Canth had described.

"France???" This actually caught Ryk off guard. What the hell was she doing over in Europe?

"It's a country in Europe."

Ryk glared at the man. "I'm not an idiot."

Shen found it advantageous to not push this point with the Brujah vampire at this time. The clan of vampires known as Brujah are well known for their anarchist views and the ability to fight like caged animals when they feel threatened or slighted.

Taking special care to keep an ear tuned to the conversation at Ryks table, Joseph, caught Rebeccas attention with a small wave of his manicured hand and motioned for her to join him. Looking up only slightly she brought her escort, an electric tape wrapped, young man, to heel at the edge of the balcony. Using the collar and chain attached around his neck, she tied him off to the railing and wandered over to Joseph Tudor languously. While approaching she lifted an eyebrow in query and was rewarded by a gesture towards the Brujah elders table. There was a werewolf in homid form talking with Ryk. How delicious.

"I thought, Ryk, hated werewolves?" Rebecca stirred at her drink coyly.

Joseph smiled, "Seems like he's carrying that feeling on. Maybe we'll get lucky and Ryk will anger it. I doubt even he would be able to fend off a Garou."

"Agreed. But what is it here for?"

"Revenge?"

"That would be too good to be true. No. Must be something else, they haven't started frothing at eachother yet. They'd be outside already if it were going to be a fight."

They both watch as Ryk follows the werewolf down the stairs and towards the front door. No one else seemed to be paying any attention. Joseph almost spilled his drink getting to his feet, a cool light of expectation in his eyes. Raising both her eyebrows, Rebecca, was equally startled. This was not something to be missed. Rebecca barely took the time to get one of her retainers to watch her escort as she went after Joseph Tudor down the stairs in persuit of Ryk and the unknown Garou. Oddly enough, even this did not cause any stir among the Kindred of the Church. Peculiar indeed.

P.S. Robin, sorry you had to wait so long for the next part...Fred.