Watching, Waiting

[Treyvon Johnson]

I smile then bite into my wrist. Just for effect, I wink at the man (do I know his name?) then hold my wrist out for him to feed.

"Don't worry. I've got you."

[Storyteller]

You've never been informed as to his name

He hesitates, holding back for a second, but you wait it out, calling him out. Eventually, he drinks the blood you will out of your wrist -1 vitae. When he's finished, he leans back, and lets out a defeated sigh.

"So, what now?"

[Treyvon Johnson]

I lick my wound shut as he finishes.

"We wait, and you tell me your name and your lineage. Since we both know this isn't going to be a one night stand, I'd like to know who I'm dealing with."

I take a quick glance at the time on my cell phone. I need to do something to get my energy back. Maybe if I hit a club I'll find something to do.

[Storyteller]

" Kendrick Eachus. Mehket. My sire was Thomas Duvall. Not a particularly noteworthy background, but i've moved up from there. In life, i was an accountant. Some shnuck with no ambition or power. After the embrace, I, obviously, didn't go back to my job. I went a very different way. In terms of my life, death was the best thing that ever happened to me. What about you? I'm not leaving this a one-way relationship with some unknown."

[Treyvon Johnson]

I give a smile, whereas I'd rather just shut my eyes and go to sleep. At least I know now that I need to pace myself better...of course, back in life, my fights always had the same kind of urgency. And were over just as quick.

"Trey Johnson, Daeva. My sire is Tobias St. Fluer."

I'd keep going but this isn't one of those Invictus ceremonies. Plus, the less he knows about me, the better. Though my Incubus status probably draws him to me more than my blood does.

"It's nice to know you have skills in accounting. I have a background in economics myself."

This may work out better than I thought. I wonder how deep a niche I can carve with his talents backing my own. I'll sleep on it. Maybe through my nightmares I'll gain some insight.

"So you went from a nobody accountant to a wannabe Dragon. I hate to be cliche, but you are lost. Maybe if you actually pay attention at mass you'll realize that there is a purpose for you other than throwing eternity away trying to shake off a curse that was placed on us by the Almighty himself. But I'm in no mood to preach. Where'd you find your blood bitch? He related to you or something?"

What was taking Michael and the others so long? I called them before I even enterred the building.

[Storyteller]

"Heh, no, he ain't mine. Belongs to some Dragon agent, but i've never been able to find out specifics."

[Treyvon Johnson]

"I should've drained him dry. No problem, the other Sanctified'll deal with him. He won't be able to do that much considering I almost drained him dry."

I take a quick look at Kendrick.

"Feel free to heal up your face. The Lance'll still give you a severe beating and you'll want your strength. You need to show them that you can be an asset to our covenant. And surrendering information on the Dragons'll help."

[Storyteller]

A crash downstairs, which sounds remarkably like a door being kicked in, indicates the arrival of backup.

"Oh great, thank you. I can see why I drank your blood now, the massive role you'll be playing in my survival."

Sarcastic he may be, but he still heals his face.

The door is pushed open, and you stand to the side as Michael, bat in hand, and two others, whom you both recognise, but can't put a name to flanking him, carrying knives. They take in the whole room, with the two guys slumped, and Michael turns to you.

"Heh, nice work. Now, who's who in this neat little operation? Found out anything useful?"

[Treyvon Johnson]

I cut my eyes to the old guy first.

"That? He's some Dragon's ghoul. He was probably sent here to keep tabs on Kendrick here."

I motion to my new thrall.

"Kendrick Echus, Mekhet and the childe of Thomas Duvall. It seems our boy here's seen the error of his ways. And was just getting ready to talk when you guys came in. As for the ghoul, he hasn't divulged much information, but once he recovers from the blood loss, I'm sure he'll be more than able to give you the information you need. What he knows he hasn't even told Kendrick yet."

I smile at Michael and wait for him to do whatever he has to. Once I can get him alone, I'll negotiate for Kendrick's life.

[Storyteller]

You watch as Kendrick gets a clean smash in the face with the bat, and another on the back of the head as it falls forward. Michael stops, and gestures to one of the other vamps, who pulls a stake, and plunges it into Kendrick's heart, before lifting him up, and slinging him over his shoulder. The other kindred grabs the unconscious ghoul, and the two carry their 'loads' out of the room.

Michael turns back to you.

"Need a ride?"

[Treyvon Johnson]

I watch Kindred get beaten then staked and don't even bat an eye. It's been long enough to almost forget, but I feel like in my mortal days that sight still wouldn't have made me flinch. Perhaps I truly was meant to become a monster...

"Hmmm?"

Michael's words brought me out of my reverie. I'm stronger and faster and better than I ever was as a human. As kine. And I know my purpose now.

"Oh. A ride's cool. I wanted to talk to you anyhow. About Kendrick and other things."

[Storyteller]

"Well, cum'on, lets hit the road. The lads will deal with those two for now, we can, er, hook up with them later."

You follow him down, out of the building, and to the street. He walks up to his car, a Saleen Mustang (Shit, he must be doing well from his position in the Lance; that, or he's getting it in from elsewhere.) He climbs into the drivers seat, and you sit alongside.