London Burning: Revelations

[Sansa]

Sansa woke suddenly, a cry for help dying on her lips as she sat up in the murky semi-darkness of Gabriel's apartments. The shirt she had borrowed from him clung to her sweaty body, and she ran her hands through her hair as her heart rate slowed. She had been dreaming that she was still a captive of the... Archbishop.

She pulled her legs up onto the couch and hugged her knees, shivering slightly. Was it night? Her eyes tracked over to the still closed bedroom door where Gabriel was sleeping.

[Gabriel Rodermark]

I awoke with a start, instantly aware that I was alone. I was no stranger to waking as such and would not have fretted over it were it not for the fact that I had not been alone upon falling asleep. A jolt of fear caused me to sit upright in bed, blinking away the lethargic haze of rest. I pulled the bedsheets around me and padded quickly to the door, pushing it open with such force that it clattered against the living-room wall, its hinges squeaking in protest at my overly dramatic gesture.

It was not irrational of me to think that she might be gone, that I might have opened the door to find my apartment transformed into the scene of some ghoulish slaughter. Few places were safe now, least of all those places that I inhabited. Yet... there she was. Safe and untouched, if a little startled by my sudden appearance. I might have blushed, had I still been mortal.

“Sorry... are you... is everything alright?”

[Sansa]

She twisted around at the sound of the door opening, and let out a tiny sigh of relief that it was just Gabriel. Just Gabriel, a blood sucking monster. But even as she thought it she couldn't feel the horror that those words should have given her.

"I...I couldn't sleep. I..." Sansa tugged the blanket she'd found during the day around her. "I'm fine. Just a bad dream."

She looked down a bit, her chin on her knees and her hair falling into her face.

[Gabriel Rodermark]

“Oh.” I nodded. Just a bad dream, she said. Her eyes avoided mine and I felt certain that I had been the cause, if not the central concern. My eyes wandered around the room, lost.

“Have there been any calls?”

[Sansa]

She looked confused for a moment, and repeated the last word of his question. "Calls?"

Ah. Phones. "No... none that I heard." As the words left her lips the ring of a phone could be heard from his office. She shrugged, and as he moved towards the office to answer it she got off the couch with the blanket wrapped loosely around her. He seemed concerned for her, and she liked that. Sansa found the pants he'd let her borrow the night before on the floor of the bedroom, and started to pull them on when she noticed a dress laying across a chair.

Self consciously she checked the size, and then stripped off her borrowed clothes and dressed in the provided clothing.

[Gabriel Rodermark]

It was Roland, of course, somehow inexplicably knowing that I would have just awoken. He had already been up for an hour and delivered a concise briefing on the events of the previous twelve hours. As I expected, the situation had not improved. The Baa'li continued to spread, even during daylight. The lupine population of the city had been approached to offer assistance, but no official truce had been made, as of yet.

“They want you to speak with representatives from the tribes. Apparently it's the only way they'll offer a united front.”

First an alliance with the Sabbat, and now a proposal from the Garou nation. If stranger things had happened, I had not lived to see them.

“Would it be possible to speak with the pack leaders tonight?”

“I've already arranged the meeting, sir. Greta and Dylan will be on hand to help. Both of them have had dealings with the Garou quite recently. Apparently Greta in particular has friends within the packs.”

“Good, good. I'll be ready soon... could I ask a favor?”

“If it's about the Miss Martin, I've already dispatched a coterie to your apartment. There are a couple of day-shift ghouls still in the area too. Don't worry, Gabriel.”

Gabriel. It was rare that Roland address me as anything other than sir. It was an odd moment of intimacy, which Roland brushed over seamlessly and speedily, concluding the conversation: “That's all, sir. Rendezvous in one hour.”

The line went dead. I held the receiver for a moment, while looking out into the dark street. There were people loitering here and there, looking nervously up and down the avenue, watching for anything out of the ordinary. They couldn't have looked more conspicuous if they'd tried. I shook my head and left the study, returning to the bedroom where I found Sansa getting dressed.

“I have to go out. There are people coming over to watch the apartment... will you be alright?”

[Sansa]

No. Her forehead creased with worry almost instantly at the thought of him leaving her. "I'll be okay." Would they be coming inside the apartment or staying outside? Babysitters or bodyguards?

She didn't ask him to stay - he said he had to go out and she believed him. But she wished he would stay. Sansa fumbled with the zip up the back of the dress, breaking a fingernail in her haste to finish dressing before he could disappear on her.

[Gabriel Rodermark]

I felt terrible leaving her, but there was nothing else to be done about it. I freshened up, as quickly as I could, and stood for a moment examining my reflection in the bathroom mirror. The color was fading from my cheeks... I blinked, and returned quickly to the lounge. I slipped on a jacket and cast a glance around the room, searching for anything that I might have forgotten, anything that might have been useful. I pocketed my cell and looked up, hearing footsteps in the hall.

Sansa had emerged again, and seemed uncertain of what to do with herself, lingering in the doorway between the two rooms. A key turned and the front door swung inwards, revealing Dylan and a handful of other Kindred. The Scourge looked with poorly disguised disdain at the interior of the apartment, all but snorting.

“Ready to go, sir?”

“Who's staying?”

The group shrugged, almost as one. “None of us. Salisbury said you needed the real muscle for dealing with the Garou.”

More footsteps approached, and the group in the hallway turned to meet the new arrivals. All of a sudden the usually expansive corridor had grown quite cramped. There were a few grunts, and 'watch its', as one figure pushed through the crowd. Elizabeth Atkinson emerged from the mob, her face twisted in distaste, her immaculate outfit now creased and somewhat scuffed.

“Elizabeth?”

She embraced me, setting a quick kiss on each cheek. “Roland sent me to keep an eye on the boys here. He thought a softer touch might be of use,” she said, with a knowing smile, her eyes roving smoothly towards Sansa.

[Sansa]

The blonde woman from the Barbican two weeks ago entered the apartment, kissing Gabriel on the cheeks in a way that seemed a little more than casual. Sansa felt a stab of jealousy at their intimacy, but remained where she was as Elizabeth's eyes looked her over.

Looked over her, catalogued her, and dismissed her. She resented Elizabeth already.

Before she could say anything, however, Gabriel was out the door in the company of some of the largest men she'd ever seen, and she was alone with the blonde vampire. Sansa fidgited in the doorway a bit, feeling plain and unglamorous in comparison with her companion.

[Elizabeth Atkinson]

The apartment was much nicer than I remembered it being. It was a shame the same couldn't be said of Gabe's little blood doll. What was she wearing? It looked like Stevie Wonder was her stylist. With a look of sympathy, I laid an ever-compassionate hand on her shoulder.

“How are you feeling, dear? You look shaken.”

[Sansa]

"Uh, I'm okay." Her eyes were probably giving her away as a liar, and Sansa couldn't help but shrink away from Elizabeth's touch. The dress that she'd found was a simple enough black number with an empire waist, v-neck, 3/4 length sleeves, and a flowy skirt that fell to mid calf. Before she'd emerged from the bedroom she'd admired her reflection in one of Gabriel's mirrors, but now she felt quite the opposite.

Moving as smoothly as possible, she began to make her way to the kitchen, her stomach grumbling at its emptiness. "I don't need a babysitter." The words were bolder than she meant them to be, and Sansa wished she could take them back.

[Elizabeth Atkinson]

Don't you dear? I smirked and fought the urge to roll my eyes. The poor girl had no idea how deep into it all she was. I smoothed out my century-old cynicism with a perfect, lip-glossed smile.

“Think of this as a social call, then. Gabe and I have been dear friends for so long... I feel like it's only right that we should get to know one another, since he's taken such a shine to you. Why don't you grab a coffee and a snack, then we can sit down and have a little chat?”

[Sansa]

Sansa smiled half heartedly, and disappeared into the kitchen. She was hoping for a few minutes of respite from vampires as she prepared some coffee, but it appeared that Gabriel had anticipated her needs and there was a fresh pot waiting for her on the counter. A quick hunt for a mug and a plate for a cheese danish she found in the pantry, and Sansa was all too quickly back in the living room.

Instead of sitting on the couch, however, she turned and sat at the dining room table. Elizabeth languidly entered after her, taking a seat at the head of the table and resting her chin on her hand as she studied the mortal as one might study an interesting, but disgusting, bug. Sansa sipped the coffee in silence, then broke the uncomfortable silence.

"How long have you known Gabriel?"

[Elizabeth Atkinson]

“How long have I known Gabe... since way back when he was like you. Human, I mean. I guess that would be-”

I press two perfectly manicured fingertips to my lips and take in a small, gasping breath.

“One hundred and thirty years! It feels like just yesterday that Nobu first introduced us to one another... how time flies.”

[Sansa]

"Jesus," Sansa muttered, sipping her coffee and promptly burning her tongue on the too hot liquid. She gulped air, and then added, "That's... a-a long time."

She bit the danish to soothe her mouth, and to give her an excuse to not say anything more.

[Elizabeth Atkinson]

“Oh, it's not that long really,” I laughed, sparkling and sudden, and continued to chuckle at the thought of how the poor blood-doll would look when she was over three centuries old. Regaining my composure, I caught sight of my reflection in the glass inlay of one of the prints on the wall and smoothed down a stray messed hair. “I don't suppose he's told you about much of his past, then?”

[Sansa]

Sansa gave her an almost incredulous stare, and then slowly shook her head. "Considering... considering that I just found out... about..." She waved a hand helplessly to encompass all vampires. "Just found out what he was... is... last week... No, he hasn't had a chance."

[Elizabeth Atkinson]

“Of course, how silly of me.”

When unprompted to speak further, the girl retreated behind the superficial safety of her coffee cup. I sighed and casting a searching glance around the room. It was terribly dull without Gabe.

“Well,” I sighed, standing, suddenly clapping my hands together. “As much as I'd love to stay and chat all afternoon, I better go check on the boys... make sure they aren't up to any mischief!”

Excusing myself into the hallway outside Gabe's apartment, I found the atmosphere no better. Evidently the boys didn't appreciate my presence. How rude! I seized the moment and gave myself an on the spot manicure, only to chip a nail when the sound of a cell ringing pierced the silence like a dart.

“Drat. Who is it?”

[Roland Salisbury]

“There's been a change of plan,” a cold voice said.

The line hissed with static, as if something had just exploded on the other end.

“No time to explain, but we need all the man power you have. Head to the Isle of Dogs, and bring the girl with you.”

Click.

[Elizabeth Atkinson]

“Ro-” The line went dead. “Sometimes I don't know who Salisbury thinks he is!”

The collective loitering in the hallway sent glares my way, but they were all so much water on this ducks back. My cell closed with a snap. “No rest for the wicked. Get the cars started. The Prince wants us all in Cubitt Town, ASAP.”

The boys – and one girl, who I had failed to notice earlier, on account of her apparent determination to repel any hint of femininity – marched out like good little toy soldiers. I whirled around and blustered back into the apartment, a blonde tornado.

“Sansa! Quick, dear. Throw something on, we have to leave. Don't worry, nothings wrong – well, here at least. Gabe needs us, Nod knows why.”

[Sansa]

Telling her not to worry was all well and good, but Sansa worried anyway as she pulled on her thick coat and scarf. She pulled the scarf up to cover her entire neck and made sure it was snug before buttoning her jacket on over it.

She moved to put her dishes in the kitchen, but Elizabeth bustled her out of the apartment as soon as her coat was on, and Sansa was powerless to do anything but what the blonde wanted. They were out of the building before she could even make a peep, and she shivered violently in the cold night air as the cars pulled up.

Inside the car, she sat quietly, concealing her fear and confusion as best she could. Gabe needs us she said. He needs me. Sansa held onto that thought as if it were her last shred of sanity, but after a few minutes of silence in the car she had to speak up. She opened her mouth, but Elizabeth was busy with her PDA, and Sansa closed her mouth again and turned to look out the window.

[Gabriel Rodermark]

With hindsight, I cannot help but wonder if it had been an ambush all along.

We had arrived in the Docklands to a frosty reception from a sizable pack of Garou. Though the group drew its members from numerous tribes of the Garou Nation, the Silver Fangs of the zealous House Gleaming Eye were most prominently represented and made no effort to hide their borderline out-rage at having to speak with so-called 'Wyrm-tainted' creatures such as ourselves.

I recognized the leader of the pack only vaguely, but knew enough of his reputation to tread lightly. Paradoxically, we were both considered the lords of London, yet we had met perhaps only once before, with all prior communication between us being filtered and channeled to and fro by aides.

We squared off against one another, two mobs, the eternally warring gangs, and lingered in the chilly air for some time before it was declared that we should move. The meeting, though of the utmost importance, was to be held in a warehouse, of all places. Neither Roland nor I approved of the choice – it was an enclosed space, far too easily abused and much too unfamiliar for us to feel comfortable in. I sent Dylan and a handful of others ahead, at the risk of offending our hosts, to scout the area. They found nothing and we proceeded inside.

We formed a ring, other respective lieutenants fanned out at our sides, and began the exchange.

“What have you brought upon us?” the pack leader demanded. The Garou bristled as one. They took offense at the sheer fact that we existed and seemed certain that the arrival of the Baali was some ploy. Accusations flew and a brawl almost erupted when Dylan snarled that the Garou should keep one another on tighter leashes.

The pack leader scowled. “The House of the Gleaming Eye shall tolerate no corruption. The only reason we do not kill you were you stand is because-”

There was a crash. The entire roomed stiffened, as one. Shoulders became hunched, fingertips reached eagerly for concealed weapons. A thousand and one paranoid delusions flashed before the eyes of almost everyone present – each Kindred imagining being ripped apart at the hands of a ravenous werewolf.

There was a hiss and something like the whine of a firework, then a tinktinktink. All of our eyes turned upwards. The silence in the room was like a vacuum. It sucked up all sound then spat it back out again in a mighty boom, as something floors above us exploded. The pack leaders accusing gaze fixed upon me.

“Liche! What treachery is this?” he barked, his voice hoarse over the sound of the wall behind us bursting inwards in a spray of brick and mortar. Hellions from beyond the veil oozed through the cracked stone, some swooping in on leathered wings, others with talons rattling like jarred bones across the floor.

[Elizabeth Atkinson]

The raced – or at least drove as quickly as is possible in London – to the Isle of Dogs. At first we weren't exactly sure where we were headed, but the Baali solved that problem for us by sending up some smoke signals. There was a flare of light in the darkness, as something set about sending the whole rendezvous to hell, express delivery.

I had half a mind to stop the car, turn around and drive as far north as was inhumanly possible. The whole situation ticked every box on my nightmare scenario wish-list: an enclosed space, angry Garou, Baa'li with fire shooting out of every orifice... but there was no avoiding it. We had a duty to do and if worst came to worst we could use the Garou as shields.

We made a suitably dramatic arrival, swerving to a halt outside the warehouse, almost rocking poor little Sansa out of her seat.

“You stay here, pumpkin.”

CLUNK! the roof of the car bent inwards, in the shape of two hooked feet.

“On second thoughts, maybe you better hop out.”

CRRAAAAAAAAW! The half bird half lizard monstrosity tore away the roof like it was peeling open a tin of sardines. It screeched again as someone filled one of its glassy eyes with a shotgun bullet.

[Sansa]

She'd spent the latter part of the car ride gripping the seat with cold hands, and as Elizabeth leapt out of the car she was too terrifed to scream. The roof ripped upwards, and a monstrous creature shrieked as it flapped its wings and fell to the ground, the roof still clutched in its hook-like feet.

Sansa scrabbled with the door, finally opening it and scrambling out as the bird creature flailed about blindly, sweeping a pair of vampires off their feet with a leathery wing. She could feel Gabriel nearby, and managed to make her feet work as she scrambled around the back end of the sedan. Elizabeth snatched her by the hand and pulled her out of harms way as another monstrosity joined the first, and Sansa was too frightened to do anything but keep her mouth shut and follow the blonde.

[Gabriel Rodermark]

The Baa'li had found us by chance, of course. They were rampaging any and everywhere that they could, it was mere fortune – on their behalf – that they had stumbled blindly into our meeting. For the Kindred community, there was no scenario more catastrophic. The lupines, already distrustful of the Camarilla, would see the conflict as a declaration of war.

Even if the situation was resolved peacefully, which I knew almost certainly that it would not be, the world of our fight would spread across the city and the country within a matter of days, hours even. The delicate ceasefire that had kept the streets of England in the safety would end and the Masquerade would be lifted.

In my mind, I could see all semblance of order dissolving, all I had worked for, vanishing in flame.

No...

A body crashed to the ground in front of me, a young Gangrel. He hissed – there was a shard of splintered wood sticking out of his collarbone. Having managed to hold onto one of his guns, he continued to fire, without so much as sitting up. I ducked to the side, as one of the winged creatures swooped towards him and heard the sound of flesh being torn from bone, felt blood splatter against me. It was like the gallery all over again.

I looked left and saw another beast coming at me... and then saw it's head being blown off.

Roland.

“Where's Dylan?”

There was a howl, as a silver blade pierced the side of one of the Garou.

“He's keeping himself occupied, sir.”

He pushed a gun into my hand. I took at it for a moment, thinking how feeble it was. Only we were using guns. The Garou and Baa'li didn't need such trinkets. From a distance we might have done some damage, but in close quarters they would have been able to rip our arms off before we'd had the chance to reload. Still, I kept hold of it, in vain hope.

“The main entrance is blocked off, and I don't much fancy using that burning hole the Baa'li created,” Roland shouted, over the sound of slaughter. “Elizabeth is on her way with reinforcements, hopefully they'll be able to clear out the obstruction at the main door.”

“... Elizabeth?”

[Elizabeth Atkinson]

I could feel Gabriel nearby, Roland too. The presence they exuded carried with it our orders.

The other cars were lined up in a black coil behind ours, men and women piling out of them. They clutched at their weapons, gormless expressions on their face, some looking at little queasy at the sight of the bird-thing tearing into their comrades.

“Fix up, look sharp, boys and girls. This is a hit and run. Get in there, clear a path for the others, and get out. Don't anyone go trying any heroics,” I added, rolling my eyes.

My eyes skipped over those present, picking out a handful of the more competent faces.

“You three, come with me. The rest of you, split into teams... quickly!”

They parted away into neat little coteries, with my trio of handymen alone remaining. I felt fleeting remorse over sending them all to almost certain doom. Sigh... Oh well!

“We're going to be co-ordinating everything from out here, okay? I'll be the eyes, and you boys can be the muscle. All you need to do is keep dear Sansa and myself scratch-free.”

The last thing I need is some unsightly scar.

[Sansa]

Sansa stood as close to Elizabeth as she could get without actually touching her. The hook-footed monsters had been dispatched with loud gun blasts, and after the ringing in her ears had faded all Sansa could hear were the shouts and cries coming from the building before them.

The vampires that had come with Elizabeth fanned out and charged for the wide loading doors of the warehouse. The blonde was talking and with effort Sansa caught the end of her conversation with the three men - vampires - around them.

"- All you need to do is keep dear Sansa and myself scratch-free."

Sansa gulped, and hugged herself, trying to watch everywhere at once. It was like being a captive of the Archbishop again - faced with the fragility of her mortal soul every single second of the day.

[Gabriel Rodermark]

The blurred echoes of movement flashed in front of my eyes, as Brujah and Toreador alike called on their blood in order to quick their step. The older amongst them were able to run rings around their opponents, while the less experienced needed the boost just to keep up.

The telepathic communications of the scores of men and women around and outside bounced back and forth. If we were blessed in one respect it was that many of us present had the gift of Auspex and as such could see clearly no matter how much smoke and madness surrounded us. I could see the outlines of people outside and felt that somewhere among them stood Sansa, once again danger.

I made a mental note to discipline Elizabeth later.

The distance between us seemed vast. Roland must have read my thoughts, ridiculous ideas of charging towards her, and seized me by the arm. He pointed to a stairwell leading to another level of the warehouse. We were already backed into a corner. Higher ground must have seemed a sensible option. Anything to put space between us and them.

We jogged quickly up the stairs, and could hear Dylan's heavy boots falling into step behind us.

[Katarina Gordislava]

And here they were. Katarina spun herself out of the shadows of the warehouse into a carnival of mayhem. Garou against Baali against Camarilla against Garou. Other Lasombra formed a circle around her and her priest, and the Archbishop pointed a pale arm at the crack in the floor that the demons were pouring out of. "We have to seal this!"

Fyodor nodded, pricking his palm with a sharpened fingernail and muttering enchantments. The Cammies were worried about their own skins at the moment, but Katarina hoped that some would see what she was doing and try to help. Or at least, not get in the way. The breach must be sealed, even if they all Died doing it. The pack around her manipulated Shadow into tentacles and kept their path clear.

A maddened Silver Fang tore through the circle, Changing as he clawed at a Baali vampire on his back. Katarina recoiled from the beast as it lashed out, tearing its claws through one of her pack. The Londoner crumpled to the ground, chest shredded. The circle closed in after the Garou, and continued towards the crack.

[Elizabeth Atkinson]

We moved around the edge of the warehouse at a safe distance, playing mental tag and run with the others inside. From the sounds of it, the Sabbat had made an impromptu and unexpected appearance that had pissed off the Garou even more. Terrific!

“It's all a matter of finding the summoner,” I explained calmly, to the men walking with me. “The Baa'li are demons, and you can't have demons without summoners. They're ordinary Kindred like all of us.” I motioned around me, stopping at Sansa.

I was just about to apologize to the girl when a whopping great shadow lurched down on us from above. It looked like snake with wings, with a scorpions tail to sweeten the deal. Those Baa'li... they couldn't just pick one deadly monstrosity to send after you. They had to crossbreed five or six into the ultimate biting, clawing, stabbing machine.

The damned thing shish-kabobed one of the helpful men who had been protecting us – I suppose he did his job in ensuring that I wasn't harmed – before tearing its hook-tail out of his trembling body and aiming it right at Sansa and I!

[Sansa]

Everything was happening so fast, and Sansa could barely keep up mentally as Elizabeth spoke about summoners and demons. But this was Gabriel's world and he lived with such things every day. She could feel him close by, and the girl found herself looking up at the second floor of the warehouse.

By the time she looked back to her present surroundings, a guard was lying on the ground with a hole in his chest and a huge fricking scorpion monster thing was aiming its wicked tail towards Elizabeth! Sansa shrieked in fear, and then grabbed the blonde's arm, yanking her out of the way as the tail lashed through the air towards them. The two landed unceremoniously on the ground as the beast screeched with anger at the near miss.

The remaining two Kindred guards recovered quickly, unloading their guns into the monster.

[Sergei Vishnyakov]

A whip of electricity cracked through the fray, swatting one of the airborne Baa'li minions to the ground in a sizzling, smoking mess. Sergei Vishnyakov moved through the madness like Moses parting the Red Sea, his fingeripts alight with dazzling energy that snapped and clawed at the fragile flesh of anyone foolish enough to get in his way. He circled the Sabbat pack, flashing walls of blinding burning light at anyone – or thing – that came too near.

[Gabriel Rodermark]

I risked a glance over my shoulder and saw a young neonate, impaled through a fallen girder, the long arm of metal thrust out through his cracked ribs. His eyes were glazed over, all of his so-called life drained away. His wounds would heal in time, if he was lucky – if we were all lucky.

Through the madness I thought I could hear the crackle of electricity and wondered if any of the mages of the Tremere had come to our aide. Since the infiltration and destruction of the chantry, the sorcerers had been reluctant to keep in contact and certainly didn't seem eager to pledge themselves to any further conflict, preferring rather to slink away into hidden sanctums, either deeply in mourning for their leader or deeply suspicious of their already tenuous loyalty to the Camarilla.

There was a cry. At the top of the staircase and I turned sharply and saw Dylan dangling from the remnants of one stair, his fingertips clenching hard against still-hot metal. A fire bolt hurtled towards the Gangrel, who swung his legs out of the way just in time to avoid going up in flames. It had come from a Baa'li, but not one of the mindless minions. It was one of their conjurers - perhaps one of the traitorous Tremere. They wore a deep crimson robe and hooded cowl. I could see nothing in their aura besides the black stain of diablerie.

Roland reached out to grab Dylan's hand, but it was too late. He fell twenty-feet to the ground, landing with an audible crunch. To Dylan, however, twenty-feet was nothing. He was of the Gangrel, a survivor to the last. Another searing bolt of fire shot towards him – and was met with nothing, as Dylan melted into little more than fine mist. He darted forwards, appearing again directly in front of the sorcerer. His eyes flashed with a feral gleam, instilling a sudden fear in the mage. Long talons grew from his fingertips, making quick work of tearing at the sorcerers elegant robe.

[Katarina Gordislava]

Kaos ruled.

The Archbishop and her Pack were an island in the midst of the warehouse, guarded now by her Vizier's lightning. A Garou fell screaming into the chasm before them, and she afforded herself a little grin. Better if all the lycanthropes were tossed in before the seal was made. She would rather face a dozen hellbeasts than an angry Garou.

Well, maybe half a dozen.

Fyodor was swaying next to her, eyes rolled up backwards in his head as he chanted, louder and louder. The chasm was glowing, but it began to dull as the Priest shouted, his syllibant voice raised above the noise of war. A hideous Baali...thing darted at the circle, only to meet no resistance as the Lesombra before it simply melted into shadows. A Tzimisce was not so lucky, but grappled with the creature, her long fingers clawing into the beast's flesh.

Katarina grasped another Baali creature with tentacles of shadow and wrung it in half as the Hell Crack darkened. Sergei was joining in with Fyodor, lightning crashing down on the chasm as he brought his magic to bear upon it.

[Sansa]

There was a crash - a louder crash - from inside the warehouse, and the windows that remained intact blew out spectacularly as retina-searing light shocked the parking lot into severe shadows. Sansa covered her eyes with an upflung arm even as Elizabeth picked herself up the ground by pushing down on the girl's shoulders. For a moment after the light faded there was silence.

Sansa took an offered hand, and pulled herself up onto her shaky legs, wondering if she'd gone deaf. The vampires were looking around warily, and she put her hand to her ear, relieved when she could hear the rasp of her fingers against her head. She opened her mouth but was cut off by a piercing shriek from high up in the warhouse before them. It was a female voice screaming what sounded like Latin, and at that sound rolled back in, the clash of battle being met assaulting her ears once more.

Elizabeth grabbed her arm painfully, fingers digging in deep as she started dragging the girl sideways. Off balance and confused, Sansa caught sight of a huge shape loping towards them from the warehouse, starlight soaking into dark fur instead of chitinous exoskeleton. Their two burly guards emptied their weapons into the creature only to be batted aside like toys. Sansa scrambled as Elizabeth pulled on her, but she seemed to be all arms and legs as what she would later learn was a Garou bore down on her.

He was frightened and only concerned with escaping the hell hole that was inside the warehouse, but they were in his way. Sansa stumbled, and the grip on her arm disappeared as the vampire leapt to safety. She had her back to the beast when he came upon her, and his claws raked across her as he tossed her aside. Sansa screamed until she hit the dark sedan parked several yards away and slipped into unconsciousness. Her back was broken.

[Gabriel Rodermark]

If I had still lived, if my heart had still throbbed with the pulse of life, it would have skipped a beat. The world seemed to stop, everything coated in white-hot light. None of us knew what was happening, or how. Voices cried out in confusion and anger, shrieks and grunts. Through all the hysteria, I felt a deeper anxiety – felt it spread out through my whole body, starting at my toes and reaching its chilly fingertips into every fiber upwards. Roland, seeing the clarity draining from me, took firm hold of my arm but I could not move.

For that moment, I was heavy as lead, welded to the floor beneath me by an excruciating sense of loss. I had felt that feeling once before, many years ago, but not so keenly. Then it had set upon me in slow trickles, as I became painfully aware of the abandonment my sire had condemned me to. Now, it was rushing in all at once, threatening to overwhelm my senses. Some connection inside of me felt stretched to its finest tethers, almost ready to snap under the pressure...

“We have to get outside,” I heard myself saying. Roland looked at me with furrowed brows, as if to say 'obviously'. Ahead of us, on the floor above, there was a window all but completely blown out, a maw of glass teeth. I realized then that we had been thrown to the ground, by the inexplicable explosion, and lurched up to my feet, Roland on my heels. We were the only ones moving for high ground and had a clear run, apparently forgotten by the chaos below.

Looking out from the high window, I saw the scene outside for the first time. There were bodies everywhere. I watched in abject horror as, seemingly frenzied, a Tzimisce brute made ribbons of a slight young kindred, who stumbled among the cadavers of friend and foe alike, desperate for some respite. I did not stay with him long, however, as my eyes instead were drawn almost magnetically to another scene of slaughter. I saw Elizabeth, hurrying herself in the drivers seat of a long black car – the roof collapsed windows all shattered. I saw her guards, struggling hopelessly to fight off a raging Garou. I saw...

“Gabriel!”

Roland swore, but it was too late. We were at least thirty foot above ground, but I leapt through the window without a seconds thought.

[Katarina Gordislava]

Fyodor sagged as the power of his Blood sealed the Hell Crack with a flash of light and a loud crash, and Samuel caught him as the Lasombra priest stumbled backwards. The big Tzimisce supported him, and Katarina gave him a curt nod. He would see Fyodor to safety outside - his powers were spent for the time being and he would need to feed before he would be any more use.

Sergei's attacks were greatly lessened as well, and he joined her inside the circle of Keepers as the Sabbat turned towards the task of getting outside. Once out, it would be relatively simple to contain the Baali in the warehouse and then destroy it.

[Roland Salisbury]

Everything had unraveled so quickly. The typically tight-knit cohesion of the Camarilla had crumbled beneath the combined threat of the Garou and the Baa'li. All of the Ventrue diplomacy in the world wouldn't smooth out what had happened. Though the rift had been closed by the Sabbat sorcerers, the warehouse would be a complete write-off. They would have to burn it to the ground and start from ground-up again if anything was to be made of it.

Looking back down into the struggle below, Roland couldn't help but feel it was an apt and unfortunate microcosm of the city itself. Gabriel had risen to power in a blaze and some small reluctant part of Salisbury suspected that he would fall from it in an equally meteoric fashion. He watched the Prince of London leap, almost feral, from the broken window and needed no help to guess what had brought on the sudden exit.

Below, a short distance away from where the Toreador Primogen was frantically trying to work out how to start her cars engine, let alone how to drive it, there was a body lying splayed on top of one of the empty sedans. Gabriel stumbled through the smoke towards it, one leg dragging in a limp.

[Sansa]

Sansa opened her eyes, staring lopsidedly up at the stars. It took several moments for her to remember how to breathe, and slowly her chest rose as she drew in a ragged breath. Other than her lungs screaming for air, she felt nothing below her shoulders.

She didn't move... couldn't move... but she shakily lifted her right arm as it suddenly throbbed with firey pain. A jagged piece of glass was imbedded lengthwise down her wrist, and blood oozed out around it. Sansa's breathing became erratic, little gasps as her entire body started shaking. She tried to move her left arm, unaware that it was trapped underneath her body, the shoulder dislocated. The deep and ragged cuts on her back from the Garou's claws were creating a pool of blood that tried to seep into the asphalt around her.

Fixated on the piece of glass, Sansa lowered her arm as carefully as she could. Had to get the glass out. It was killing her. Help me...

"Gabriel..." Her voice was barely audible.

[Gabriel Rodermark]

The true power of kindred blood is not often evident until we are pressed to our very limits, pushed to what mortals refer to as their nerves end. It is in these times that the Beast so frequently gains control, overwhelming the self-control that allows us to retain some air of the dregs of humanity we kindred possess. I could almost feel the frenzy on me as I moved with unthinkable speed from my landing point. The danger, the hunger, the fear – all of it stripped away the layers of carefully composed civility, the elaborate sham which each of us worked so feverishly to maintain for fear of what we might become should we forget for but a minute.

It is like being apart from oneself. I could see myself, as if I was a bird circling the warehouse from above, as I jolted to a halt beside the sedan. I could see my body as it moved awkwardly, limbs like marionettes, struggling to find some adequate place or purpose. I looked around, with no idea of what to do – as helpless as a newly-born fledgling.

What could I do? Let her die? I do not relish the notion that it is our given right to choose who lives and who dies, but in being made one of the manifold children of Caine it is within my power to make such a decision. It should not be, of course. I am as fallible as any other man or woman, perhaps more so. The mistakes I make may echo on into the centuries, undying. Yet, can the same not be said for my triumphs? Is it not better to gamble on success than to consign oneself to defeat?

All of these questions and thoughts, I have struggled with since that day. In that moment, of course, my mind saw only one cause of action. She could not make the choice herself. Even if she could have, would she have understood well enough to make the right decision? I did not know what was right and what was wrong then. I still do not know now. Who am I to say? I am not God. No, I am without mercy. I tore the glass from her frail wrist, and stopped the wound with hungry lips. The blood poured from her into me and with it her life drained away – the last moments of her being, spent in agony.

[Katarina Gordislava]

The Baali were thinning out now, with no new reinforcements. There didn't seem to be any more werewolves in the mix now either, to the Archbishop's relief. Roland Salisbury came down the stairs to the left of the Sabbat, a strange expression in his eyes as he drew the surviving Camarilla around him.

It appeared that any of the Tremere sorcerers who had been present had now fled, but Katarina wasn't one who liked things left to chance. The fact that a Hell Crack had been opened and none of the Baali kindred had been Killed was a very bad sign. They could be opening another in another area of town while the Camarilla were busy cleaning up the demons and other hell spawn at this site.

She took a hold of Sergei's elbow, supporting her Vizier as she could feel his exhaustion, and left the dirty work to the rest of the pack that surrounded her as they pounded any Baali demons who came within reach. Her sharp eyes took in the Ventru Primogen, however, and the decided lack of a London Prince beside him. Where was Rodermark?

[Gabriel Rodermark]

Everything grew quiet. I could hear nothing but her body – the desperate heaving of lungs under bruised ribs; the faltering beat of her heart, now off-time and growing slower and more pendulous with each passing moment.

I knew then how Nobu had felt when he had made me into what I was now, and how it had become such an addition for him to embrace one mortal after another. There was something infinitely more satisfying about the final drops of blood to be drained than the first. Perhaps it was because of some perverse satisfaction the Beast took in knowing that it had taken the life of another. It was not the exquisite sensation he had described it as, but something much more primitive, animalistic and thrilling.

I can remember, through the frenzied haze, feeling the now disgusting excitement at the thought that she would die in my arms and then, like some dreadful knight I would drag her back from the great beyond into a new life of my own making. For a fleeting moment I was terrified that she might die irreversibly, feeling her body trying desperately to fight off what was happening, what I was doing. You must believe me when I say that it revolts me now, how I was then – but I felt exalted. I would be, more so than I had been in the months prior, her everything.

It was with these blasphemous thoughts swirling in the chaos of my mind that I felt her heart giving its final tolls. I tore my fangs away and, not wishing to spend even a second looking at what I had done, pressed a wound of my own against her lips and urged her fogged mind to drink or die.

[Sansa]

Gabriel was there with her suddenly, and Sansa felt a surge of relief as he bent over her, gathering her into his arms. There was no pain to be felt except for the wound on her arm, but she couldn't move, couldn't hug him back. Tears welled up in her eyes as he pulled the glass from her wrist, and then he was pressing it to his mouth as though he was going to kiss it better.

She shuddered as her brain was bombarded with sensations of pleasure. The pain of her wounds was still there too, causing more tears to fall from her eyes even as the corners of her lips curled up involuntarily. What are you doing to me, Gabriel...

"Gabe... Gabriel..." Helpless in his arms, and unable to move, she could feel his lips on her wrist and the pressure of his tongue licking at and drawing out her blood. Time seemed to slow, and her vision dimmed as Gabriel grew even more frenetic in his attentions. Sansa worked to open her mouth again, to call his name and tell him he was hurting her, but couldn't find the energy.

She kept her eyes on him as long as she could, dying with them open and looking at his face as he pushed his arm against her lips.

[Roland Salisbury]

A mass retreat effort was in progress. With the hole inside of the warehouse closed, it was now time to mop up what had spilled out into the streets. The majority of the Baa'li were still clustered in the same area, but some had begun to flee. A new wave of Camarilla enforcements had arrived, with a number of Brujah and Nosferatu rolling in inside jeeps and vans.

Moving out into the open night, Roland met with the appointed leader of the group who reeled off a report about another attack they had just finish dealing with. With the good news, however, came bad. What the Brujah told him was not what he had wanted to hear. He wanted to know that the city was security, that the threat had been contained, that by morning they could all sleep soundly knowing that the world was put to rights again, that the Masquerade remained untouched – but that would have been all too easy.

Burdened with this new revelation, he turned and searched the area for any sign of Gabriel. His eyes picked out the Prince quickly and saw... Roland swore, again. That was twice in one day.

[Katarina Gordislava]

Out in the night air, Katarina looked down at her clothes - stained with viscera and the stench of sulfur. Suddenly worried, she put her hands to her hair, and raked her fingers through it. She probably looked a frightful mess.

Roland caught her eye again, talking to a hulking Brujah as a small army of Nosferatu and Brujah descended on the warehouse. Determined not to be tossed aside, the nerve of these Cammies, Katarina stalked towards him. "Its amazing that the Camarila have managed to hold onto London for so long, really, Salisbury. The Masquerade will never survive if you keep this up."

He swore, and the Archbishop drew back a little, back straightening more. Not what she'd expected from the always composed Ventrue. Once she determined that he wasn't addressing her, she followed his gaze to a pair of black sedans, both damaged heavily.

She raised an eyebrow as she saw the Prince of London kneeling in the dirt and blood of the parking lot, bent over a mop of familiar looking brown hair. "You really should keep a leash on him."

[Gabriel Rodermark]

She was empty now. The very thing that drove all of us, kept us all from becoming lifeless husks, was gone from her. Every drop of blood in her body was now my own, mixing and intermingling together, becoming a single stream whose source lay centuries back into time. The blood ran from me back into her, and she would become part of it all. There was no romanticizing it, though. I remembered my own embrace – the trauma, the maddening clarity of it all – and knew that there would be nothing beautiful or sublime about what was about to happen.

Sure enough, the transition was almost instantaneous. With her mortal body dead, a new kind of life was born. The vitae began to spread through her veins, but not with the hot pleasure that she had felt before. Instead, it devoured. As it reached her brain, the first waking thoughts of her revived mind would be of hunger, gnawing achingly at every fiber of her being as the Beast stirred in her for the first time. A whole new world would lie before her, but she would think of none of it, only of the hollow emptiness left inside of her, which could be filled by only one thing – blood.

[Sansa]

Light returned slowly, and she could see Gabriel's blurry shape, and the taste of iron on her tongue. Other sensations piled in from her body, a prickly feeling in her legs and a lance of pain in her back. Her cheeks were still wet from her tears, and more fell as she gasped back to life, red blood mingling with the salt water.

More than anything, though, was the Thirst. Sansa felt warm liquid in her mouth, and grabbed at Gabriel's arm, licking and swallowing as though her life depended on it. With effort he pulled his open wound away from her lips, and she snarled involuntarily. Nostrils flaring, she could smell it all around her... just out of reach... and she opened her mouth in a wordless cry of hunger. It was a horrible sensation, and she curled up as her body cramped with its need for nourishment.

[Gabriel Rodermark]

The degradation of the change was something none could avoid. Even Sansa, whom I had seen always haloed by beauty and innocence, was sullied by it. Her body convulsed with tremors of an unnatural hunger, far stronger than the burning that had once filled her lungs. What I glimpsed in her then, as she struggled in spite of her cuts and bruises, was something I had hoped never to see in her – the frantic desperation of an animal, a thing driven mad by want.

She was a mirror to my own perversion and, for all my love and infatuation, I felt the urge to pull away from her rise in me like a sudden rush of bile to the throat - but I resisted. I gave her what she wanted, because it would be the only way to turn her back into some semblant of the young woman I knew. I offered my unmarked wrist, an untouched target for her to cut her teeth on.

[Sansa]

Unable to move freely because of her back injury that was attempting to heal itself, Sansa moaned in her sudden and unrelenting desperation for... something. Mind still foggy, when Gabriel put his wrist in front of her she barely knew what she was doing when she took it in her hands and pressed newly sharp fangs into his cool flesh.

The vitae of her Sire bubbled up, and Sansa became even more frantic at the first taste of it. Like a newborn lamb learning how to nurse, she fumbled with his wrist, sucking and licking at the wound she'd created. After a few long minutes, she drew back, her thoughts beginning to clear as she looked down at Gabriel's bloodied wrist.

She let go of him, and lifted a slim hand to her mouth, wiping away the vitae that stained her lips. She stlil hurt - and she still wanted more. Horrified, Sansa lurched upwards, pulling out of Gabriel's embrace until she was leaning against the dented sedan. She had... she was...

A large red tear dripped out of her eye as she struggled not to vomit, even as her body demanded she return to her feast.

[Roland Salisbury]

"You really should keep a leash on him."

Roland frowned, though he did not look away from Rodermark. He was about to make some remark in reply to Katarina when the car that Elizabeth Atkinson had been so hurriedly trying to start finally came to life, crashing against the rear-end of the car that the Prince and his newly embraced progeny were knelt by. They both flinched and Salisbury could hear Atkinson give a shriek of surprise. His frown deepened.

“Sir!” he jogged away from the Archbishop, ignoring some shrill cry from Atkinson. “We don't have time for this right now.” He grabbed Gabriel by the shoulder, sparing only a moments glance for the weeping girl beside him. “We have to make a move.”

[Katarina Gordislava]

"Degenerates," Katarina muttered under her breath, and then slowly smiled before turning away from the Prince and the two Primogen. "Samuel!"

The hulking Tzimisce came to her side as she called for him. "Archbishop?" His voice was deceptively smooth and soft - a stark contrast to the terror that was his face and body.

"We are leaving." She gathered her dusty skirts and walked away from the warehouse even as the last demons evaded the Brujah inside it. "We have done enough tonight, and dawn approaches too soon."

"Yes Archbishop." Samuel sketched a bow as he walked beside her, and then broke out into a loping run that led him to the transportation that would take those too tired (or unable) to travel in the Shadows back to their Haven.

Katarina Gordislava spun herself into the Abyss, disappearing from sight.

[Gabriel Rodermark]

The warehouse spat Dylan out onto the cold concrete, and he rolled to a groaning halt some fifteen feet away from me. I doubt that I even noticed he was there, until he was stood beside me, lifting Sansa up onto his broad shoulders. He slung her over one arm, like she nothing more than a rolled-up rug. I looked, wide-eyed and vengeful, up at him. Only Roland's firm grip stopped me from lashing out, seizing her from him. “Sir, not now,” he repeated.

Already we were moving. I don't remember making the decision to do so, only suddenly finding myself in a car once again. Everything seemed to happen in fits and starts, like a series of still frames in my mind. Rolands infinite composure, Dylan swearing coarse and loud, the damnable screech of mobile phones. What was it Roland had said?

We had to make a move... where to? Already we were driving somewhere new. Not to the haven. There were only the four of us – Roland and Dylan up front, Sansa and myself in the back. We sat on opposite sides of the car, and it felt as if she were miles away from me then, but I could not bring myself to reach out to her, terrified that she might recoil, repulsed.