"WOO! SHOULD I STAY OR SHOULD I GO NOWWWWWWWWWWWW?!"
The wild guitar strings and crooning British voice of Mick Jones came through the speaker system in Grace's Ferrari Spider. The thing turned on a dime and handled like a dream. Hope was absolutely loving it as she shrieked out the words just ever so slightly very off-key. With the Clash playing in her ear, going through the streets of Seattle's suburbs and heading into the city was a hell of a joyride.
Which came to a stop as the phone started ringing.
The...phone.
"This thing has a phone?" Hope blinked, looking to Sybil. "How rich is Grace? Jesus..."
"We'd better answer. . ." Sybil said, having been holding her hands against the frame of the car for the last few miles. "I think she'll be cross. . ." She reached over to the small interface on the dashboard. The screen flickered and showed a photograph of Grace's face right before a far more angry version of it took its place.
"Are you two fucking insane?!" Grace shouted.
"Is that a trick question?" Sybil asked, her head tilted to the side.
"To be fair-" Hope started, eyes still on the road.
"Shut up! Bring my car back! Right now!" Grace snapped.
"We're kind of already in town," Hope said, "that's like a thirty minute drive to-"
"Shut up!" Grace snapped. "I'm serious, that thing is a collector's item. If you so much as dent it, I'm gonna -"
"OOPS! POTHOLE!" Hope shouted mellow dramatically, jerking the wheel over to one side.
"Ugh. . .I'm gonna be sick!" Sybil groaned.
"That's not funny!" Grace snapped.
"Look, we're just going to meet up with Grayson. Your car is gonna be fine!" Hope insisted. "Whoa!" She jerked the wheel to the side.
"Hope, stop! I['m gonna barf!" Sybil groaned again.
"Grayson is busy! He's gonna be busy for a while. Come back to the mansion." Grace said.
"Why?" Hope asked, raising a brow.
"Because I said so!" Grace snapped. "Now."
"No, why do you say Grayson is busy?" Hope asked. Grace seemed taken aback for a fraction of a a second, but only for that minute moment of time.
"Bring my car back or I'll be calling Isaac about this. End of story." With that, Grace hung up.
"Bitch." Hope said.
"Seriously, can we pull over?" Sybil asked.
"Oh, fine. . ." Hope pulled into a parallel parking spot. . .and only just narrowly avoided a truck that was in the slot before it. "Nailed it."
"Gonna lose that jogger I ate earlier. . ." Sybil gave a fake gag. "Seriously, you drive like a mental patient! And I would know!"
"Yeah, yeah." Hope waved her off. "You got Ben's number, yeah?"
"Yeah, why?" Sybil asked.
"Think we should give him a heads up?" Hope asked. "I think the Diva is up to some bullshit."
The most of the night for the two Tremere, Anthony and Marion, had been in casing the places where the keys were to be found. As Anthony drove Marion's van (much to his surprise that she even let him), Marion had texted several people to put feelers out on the other locations.
"Okay, with any luck, we'll have some answers soon." Marion said.
"Concerning the other keys?" Anthony asked.
"Right." Marion said. "The one in Ballard, we're a bit more well-equipped to find."
"Why's that?" Anthony asked.
"I happen to have a small haven there." Marion said. "Tiny little place about a block down from the address. I have some equipment there that we'll probably find useful."
"Good to know." Anthony said. He looked back out fully to the road they travelled on. "I'm just a bit concerned about how it affected Sybil."
"The Malkavian in your group, correct?" Marion asked.
"That's the one." Anthony nodded. "She said she heard voices."
"Malkavians always hear voices."
"True, but...not like this. This was different. It was making her...angry. She almost Frenzied. Would have if it hadn't been for Hope."
"Questions for later." Marion said. "First, we need to get these keys and destroy them."
"If we even can." Anthony said as the car pulled up to the address that Marion had put into the GPS. Parking the car, he got out as did Marion, heading up to a door and taking out a set of keys from her pocket.
"I have a small set up we could use to-" Marion started as she opened the door, which then closed again seemingly of its own accord. "Oh, Hell..."
"Hell?" Anthony blinked. "What is going on?"
"Back up! Back up!" Marion shouted, pushing him back. Anthony's eyes managed to catch the shadow from under the doorframe...elongating. "Tell me you have a flashlight in your coat!"
"Yeah, why?" Anthony immediately started digging around for it.
"Shine it at the floor! NOW!" Marion shouted. Pulling it out, Anthony did just that. The light shone against the shadow....which seemed to retreat from the source and back under the door.
"What in the hell is that, Marion?" Anthony asked.
"We need to go, now." Marion said. "This haven is compromised. Move! Move!" She ushered him back toward her van, the pair of them getting in and Marion driving them off as quickly as possible. She was already pulling out her phone and dialing.
"Marion, what the hell was that?" Anthony asked again.
"I think I just figured out what my boon from your coterie can be..." Marion gave him a half-glance as she waited for the person on the other end to pick up.
Ben stood in the parking lot of the Red Rooster diner, having resumed his more normal wear. In his hand was a package that had been wrapped up with tape a few times, the box having been something that had barely been together once he'd gotten a hold of it. His watch read 11:45. All that remained now was to wait. He stood outside rather than waiting within as before, attempting to give the illusion of a more level playing field.
Hopefully, this would go smoothly.
"Benjamin?" Her voice got his attention, Ben turning to find her walking up, having come from Haven of Hope.
"Angelica..." Ben started.
"What are you doing here?" Angelica asked him.
"What are you doing here?" Ben asked. If he'd had a pulse, it would have been racing with panic at that moment.
"I saw you standing out here, alone." Angelica said, her eyes flicked down to the package clutched in his hand. "With a package, for some reason?"
"It's...complicated." Ben said.
"Is this about you looking into the shelter? Beca-" Angelica started, only to be cut off as she saw something over his shoulder. Ben looked in confusion, turning to see what she saw. Sybil, hands in the pockets of her jacket, came forward with an annoyed look. Hope was accompanying her.
"Do you ever pick up your damn phone!?" Sybil snapped at him.
"What do-?" Ben started.
"Told you we should have come here to start." Sybil looked over to the other figure who had come out, Hope.
"Had to check. I'm just saying." Hope shrugged.
"How did you even get here this quickly?" Ben asked.
"Jacked one of Grace's cars." Hope grinned, admitting to it shamelessly.
"Umm...I'm sorry, are they-?" Angelica started to ask.
"Detective Sybil Langtry, Seattle Police Department." Sybil said, introducing herself properly to the woman and even displaying her badge from within one of the pockets of her trench coat. "I'm heading up the investigation as to the people who have been encroaching on your property, Miss Knox."
"Oh, umm. . .just Angel, please." Angelica said. "And it's not my property, it's my-"
"Either way, ma'am, we're looking into it." Sybil said. "No need to worry."
"Well, that's just it, I-" Angelica started again.
"I'm gonna need you to forget that you saw us here and go back to the shelter." Sybil said to her, tapping into the power of her Blood as she managed to catch eye contact with Angelica.
"No!" Ben shouted, but it was too late. Angelica's memory was clouded, and she looked to be in a daze before turning and leaving. The Gangrel clenched his free hand (mindful of what he was holding in his other hand) into a fist, tensing it as they watched Angelica enter the shelter. "She was going to leave!"
"Just speeding things along." Sybil said, slipping her hands into her coat pockets. "You don't want her here when the going gets tough."
"It's not going to get tough. It's-" Ben started to say, but again found himself cut off as a familiar-looking Bentley rolled up into the parking lot, circling the group before parking in another spot. Once more, three men in suits pulled themselves from the vehicle before the now well-recognized form of Stephen Corwin emerged. He straightened his tie as he and one of his bodyguards moved over toward the group.
"Mr. Grayson. The item." Corwin said. Ben raised it in his hand, then lowered it to the ground and stepped away. Corwin signalled for his bodyguard to retrieve it, and the man did so without incident. "Excellent. Then our business is concluded." He turned, heading back toward his car. His guard moved forward, opening it, and Corwin took the package from the man before entering the vehicle. "Do it." He said, just before the door closed.
The first of the men came forward, a wooden stake falling from his sleeve and into his hand, taking a jab at Ben's chest. The Gangrel's arms snapped around quickly as he dodged the strike, disarming the man and slamming a fist into his chest in a few precise punches. The second man likewise pulled out a stake and went after Hope, who dodged out of the way and ducked to the side, sweeping the leg and bringing the man to the ground. A quick kick to the temple send him rather painfully into unconsciousness.
From the sunroof of the car rose a man with a submachine gun gripped in his fingers.
"Ben! Hope! MOVE!" Sybil shouted, ducking down just in time to avoid the hail of bullets that followed only microseconds after. The car began to pull away, bullets still flying. Looking up, Sybil could see Hope ducking behind another car and Ben...Ben was leaping onto the car and grabbing at the man with the gun.
"Holy shit, what is he doing?!" Hope gaped in surprise.
"He's going to give him the key..." Sybil said, a small smirk on her lips.
"What?" Hope turned to the Malkavian, but Sybil was already moving toward the two men who had been knocked to the ground and rendered unconscious. Hope walked over to Grace's car, where she expected to see it riddled by bullets. Instead, the side of the vehicle was as pristine as ever. The Brujah ran a hand along it, looking confused. Not a nick or a dent. "I think we just got played..."
In his car, Corwin looked down upon the small package. At last, he would be able to put it somewhere far safer. Of course, there was the fact that someone had managed to purchase the shelter out from under him at all. He'd have to have Fabian look into that, it was an inexcusable error in judgment, one that would be soon corrected and none would be the wiser for. Plus, the tradition of Destruction was upheld...he hadn't sent anyone to the Final Death, after all.
Grayson would most likely survive the battle with his ghoul. The gunfire had stopped...and the man had not returned. Likely that they both had fallen off and into the street. It mattered little when the prize had been captured. Given the nature of this, a slight crack in the Masquerade was a very, very small price to pay.
The Ventrue removed a small knife from a compartment in the car door. A dainty little thing with the word 'Beth' carved into the hilt the blade was flipped out of and into again. A tiny reminder of happier times, but no less sharp for how little it was used. He sliced into the tape sealing the box, eager to finally gaze upon his prize. His undead ears caught the sound of not only the knife cutting through the tape, but also the opening of his driver's door as the car started to list toward the median in the road.
"What is the meaning of thi-?" By this time, he had pulled the cardboard away at the separation...and a bright light blinded him as he was forced back from its source, hearing and sight being taken from him for a few moments.
The car skidded left and right across the street as its occupant was seemingly consumed in the fiery explosion that followed. It crashed into a disused newspaper kiosk, flipping it over and finally it came to on the gravel that separated the street from a construction site. A figure did actually manage to pull himself from the wreckage, slumping over into the gravel, sliding down the hill of fragmented. His suit was in tatters, his body having taken the bulk of the explosion, his decades of learning Fortitude had been all that saved him...but only just. He needed vitae. He needed it soon. He'd have to...where were his ghouls? His ghouls! They'd abandoned him? There was no sign of his driver and Grayson had taken his gunner...
If they were still alive, he'd have to find them! Make them pay for this treachery!
A gnarled, blackened hand clawed through the rocks and dust as he tried to pull himself toward the street, his Beast howling from within his throat. However, Stephen Corwin found himself pulled back into the pit by what remained of his ankles. When he gazed upward, the man who had been a nuisance to him had suddenly become an object of horror. If his heart could have beat, it would have been racing at a speed to make a jungle cat green with envy.
"You!" He would have spat at Ben Grayson if he'd had the vitae. The Gangrel towered over him, arms crossed over his chest. The man's almost black eyes boring holes into the Ventrue beneath him. "The Prince is going to have your head for this! You filthy mutt!"
"I'm afraid not." Ben said. "You see, it's rather unbecoming of a Ventrue of your stature to be making demands like that in another Kindred's domain, isn't it?"
"What the hell are you talking about?!" Corwin hissed, wincing against the unbelievable pain of haing been blown apart and dragged across the rocky earth. "I wasn't in your do-"
"I have a proxy who was at Prince Blanchard's court last night." Ben said. "It seems that the Prince, in her wisdom, has given me feeding rights over that entire neighborhood."
"B-But, I-" Corwin stammered. The only one who could speak on his behalf at Elysium was- "...Fabian?!"
"I guess you trusted the wrong person." Ben shrugged. "But, if you were to go to the Prince's court, you'd have to answer why you ordered three vampires murdered in someone else's domain." Ben said. "So that plan is out. Trying to enforce the Sixth Tradition without permission warrants the Final Death if I'm not mistaken, isn't that right? Plus, the other two are still alive...as are all your ghouls. They ducked out before the lights went up. Smart fellas."
"You. . .you bastard! Don't you realize what you've done?!" Corwin snapped, then started to laugh. "You've told me everything! This is a conspiracy! It will be answered with your blood! Yours and my traitorous protégé's! Do you hear me, Grayson?! YOUR BLOOD! EVERY LAST DROP!" The Ventrue was suddenly snatched up and slammed against a bar of the building frame. Had he any breath in his lungs, it would have been knocked out of them right then and there. As it stood, his spine merely gave a sickening crack as it was broken against the metal - more pain and more damage to heal.
"And what makes you think you're going to get out of here to tell anyone?" Ben asked him. The Gangrel's cold, dark stare had Corwin's mind racing. He had to think of something, anything, to prolong this long enough to will his vitae to work and get him mobile again.
"If you kill me...you will never know rest." Corwin was still laughing, still feeling dominant in his position, or at the very least trying to seem like he was. Inside, behind a poker face that had come with a century of practice, he was panicking. "My people will find you, they will avenge me. You will suffer for this! You think you can break the Sixth Tradition? Even if this is your domain?"
"Now who said anything about killing you?" Ben asked, dragging him over to a part of the pit where the foundation had not yet been filled in. Pulled right up to it, as though it were to be used right away, was a cement truck with its load rotating to keep it from solidifying. Ben pulled the wooden stake that had been intended for him out from his hoodie. "I think this will be more than adequate for you."
"You're...you're not really going to do this?!" Corwin asked, exasperated. His remaining vitae was working to reknit his broken bones and lace together the sinew of muscle and flesh. He needed more time. A few seconds, perhaps, and he could escape. He had to keep the Gangrel talking. "Grayson, listen to me. We can cut a deal! We-"
"What's her name?" Ben asked, rather suddenly.
"Wha-What?!" Corwin was taken aback.
"I'll cut you a deal, Corwin." Ben said. "I'll be happy to, actually. If you can tell me just one thing. That's all. One thing, and I will let you go.
"For God's sake, man. Anything!"
"Tell me her name."
"...what?!"
"Her name. Tell me her name."
"Who?!"
"The woman who runs that shelter. The woman you sent thugs to terrorize. The woman who could have been murdered by them. What. Was. Her. Name?!" Ben asked him, his eyes holding the other Kindred's. When no reply came, Corwin's mouth agape, Ben slammed the stake into the man's chest and pierced his heart. Corwin became rigid, unable to act, but still able to see and hear everything going on around him. "I'm not mad. In fact, I'm still going to hold up my end of our bargain." He pulled something else from his hoodie. . .a familiar little key, with Thaumaturgical sigils branded into the metal of it. "Here. Take your prize."
Ben dropped it into the man's open mouth, the cold metal key sliding down into his throat. With that, he dropped Corwin into the pit. Walking over to the cement truck, Ben pulled the lever to release the flow, and the pit slowly began to fill up. . .Corwin able to feel the cold, wet substance as it splattered against him, starting to pool around his ankles as it rose just a little higher...he had to focus, had to force the stake from his heart...and a little higher...the splash of the non-Newtonian liquid was against his neck and chin now...only seconds remained until...he tried to reach into himself, draw on what reserves he could...but too late. Too late.
Stephen Corwin's last thoughts as he sank into Torpor were that of every curse he could think of upon the name of Ben Grayson - feeling the cold metal in his throat accompanying the white hot rage of his Beast, feeling the cold splash of the concrete against his face that had already begun to harden around his feet and ankles. Though he could not see him from where he lay, Stephen could feel the cold, lifeless eyes of Ben Grayson upon him until the concrete swallowed him and the key up...and nothingness followed.
Fabian sat thinking it all over, all of the pieces having fallen so very neatly into place. His sire's obsessions, his pride, his arrogance, all of them being tools in the man's downfall. He gazed over Seattle's skyline, the sun having set less than an hour before. It was a city with one less pompous jackass in it, and that served the young Kindred well. In more than one way.
"Mr. White, they're ready for you." The secretary, a young waif of a thing - one of Prince Blanchard's own Ghouls - addressed him.
"Thank you, Miss Calford." The lawyer gave her a respectful nod and a smile and approached the double doors leading into the Boardroom. He had come through this door he didn't know how many times in the last ten years, the last five of those as a simple Foreman. Tonight would be the night that changed, at long, long last.
All it had taken was the purchase of one piece of land and waiting for the Gangrel attached to it to start poking around. An arrangement with some Nosferatu for the explosives, and a sufficient bribe to the men around Corwin, and everything else had fallen neatly into place just as Fabian had planned it. His holdings had increased, his wealth had grown, and he would no longer be under the yoke of the man.
All in all, a very successful business venture with minimal risk to himself.
He stepped into the Board Room and witnessed the eleven faces of Seattle's Board. The Gerousia, as they had been called in the nights of old, all Ventrue of sufficient age and dignitas. Young as he was, it humbled Fabian to be in the presence of such distinguished members of his Clan. At the head of that table was none other than the Praetor of the Board and the Prince of the City - Wren Blanchard.
"Welcome, Mr. White." She gestured to the one empty seat at the table. "Please, take a seat." He moved to do just that, and she rose. "Your achievements and your contributions to your Clan have not gone unnoticed. With the unfortunate passing of your sire, which we all mourn, there is a gap within our hierarchy. Too long, you have been in his shadow. It is time for you to rise from it." She gave the young man a warm smile. "Welcome to the Board, young Aediles."
The official title! He tried to appear modest as the gentle clapping came from the other members of the Board, welcoming the newcomer. The festivities that followed were a formal affair. Light music performed by a string quartet and, of course, Blood Dolls giving of themselves freely. Once more, Fabian looked out over the Seattle skyline as he had been before the meeting. A new world had opened up to him.
"Thinking to the future, Mr. White?" The voice of Wren Blanchard once more got his attention. The older Ventrue approached him in a finely-crafted pantsuit.
"Your Grace." Fabian bowed at the waist. "I cannot thank you enough for this."
"For that which you were owed?" Wren asked. "Come now, Fabian. You should well enjoy the fruits of your labors." That phrase triggered a curiosity in the younger Ventrue. "We are the Clan of Kings. As one King falls, another must rise. It is the order of things, wouldn't you say?"
"Yes, I suppose it is." Fabian said, sipping from a long-stemmed glass that had been filled with an offering from a Blood Doll.
"I look forward to many productive and profitable nights with you among our number, Mr. White." Wren said. "Do not disappoint me. And do well to remember your place."
"Of course, ma'am." Fabian said. The Prince leaned in toward him, her lips dangerously close to his ear.
"In pace requiescat. . ." She whispered, her eyes locked upon his for a moment before slowly moving away. If Fabian could have paled, he would have. However, his icy stoicism remained - for the most part, he hoped - clear on his face as the Prince pulled away to converse with another guest, the realization sinking into his mind that he might have just opened himself up to a great deal of trouble...
Angelica was checking a shipping manifest, supplies that had come in during the day, when there came a knock at the door. She opened it, finding the smiling face of Ben Grayson behind it.
"Ben! It's so good to see you!" Angelica smiled to him. "You won't believe it, they-"
"The law firm sent a letter of apology to you today and promised there would be no bids to buy the shelter in the future?" Ben asked.
"How did you-?"
"I hear things." Ben's words got a chuckle out of her.
"Well, you, uh...you heard right in this case. An official letter of apology from them and we haven't had any thugs running around in a couple of days. I think we might be in the clear." Angelica said, her smile as bright as the lights of the city itself.
"Good, I'm glad." Ben said, giving her a smile.
"So...thank you." Angelica said.
"No need to thank me. I'm just glad you're alright. You do a lot of good in a place like this. It would be a shame for it to disappear." The redhead leaned up, ever so slightly, and kissed him on the cheek. Ben tensed a bit at the gesture, but did not pull away. As Angelica did, however, she was blushing.
"Oh, sorry, was I-?"
"No, I. . .it's fine." Ben said, seemingly trying to reassure her.
"I was a little too forward." Angelica said. "I'm sorry."
"No, it's fine. Honestly." Ben said. "I promise. No offense taken."
"I suppose I probably should have opened by asking you to go for a coffee some time, right?" She asked bashfully.
"I'd like that." Ben said, nodding to her.
"How about tomorrow night?" Angelica asked.
"Sounds great." Ben said after a moment's hesitation. "Let me give you my number."
"Oh, hang on." Angelica went and got the envelope the apology letter had come in, snatching a pen off of the table as well and handing them to Ben. He scribbled his number, handing it and the pen back to her.
"Thanks." Ben said. "See you soon."
"Yeah, see you soon." Angelica said, the two sharing a smile and a wave as Ben stepped through the door. She closed it, a little smile on her lips, and even more of a spring in her step as she walked away.
1996
"I'm a little surprised."
"Why?"
"Well, given your...reputation, I would have thought you'd be a little less humane."
"She's an infant. She didn't deserve what happened to her, and she doesn't deserve what would have happened to her. Not there, not here."
"I suppose you are right." Nathaniel said, looking to the younger Gangrel. This being that was seen as more Beast than man by many of the Kindred in Seattle. "Still, to see the Wolf of Vancouver save a life. Any life-"
"That's not who I am anymore, Nathaniel." Ben said. "That's...That's not who I want to be, anymore." He set the small bundle, slumbering peacefully, down into the bassinet. "I guess...this is my way of starting to try."
"I understand." Nathaniel said with a nod. "One of my people will take her in the morning to the orphanage. They'll see that she gets put in with a good family."
"Thank you." Ben said, looking down at the baby girl swaddled in blankets, tuffs of red hair poking up from her head.
"She'll need a name." Nathaniel said. "Unless you want me to just tell them to pick anything?" Ben looked to the older Gangrel, then to the infant.
2018
Ben watched her from across the street, seeing her in the kitchen of that small homeless shelter. She was happy, she was safe. In the end, that was all that mattered. All he'd ever wanted for her.
"Good night, Angel." He whispered just before he turned and left, disappearing after he'd walked into the alley behind the Red Rooster Diner, to the naked eye having seemed to have gone behind a dumpster and then vanished into thin air.
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