Herman was, he was loath to admit enjoying himself immensely. There was not a Lasombra embraced who didn’t love seeing a Ventrue with shit on his face, he thought with a throaty chuckle. Grinning happily now, he just needed to get his hands on a phone then perhaps he could really show himself as pulling his weight. He had seen the looks that had passed between Porter and the Ventrue, they were thinking of doing this thing solo as soon as they could. He wouldn’t let them do that, not of course out of some terribly misguided sense of loyalty but rather he had not survived the ages by allowing himself to be torn apart at the edges of a tempest. No he was staying in the eye of this storm, the risks might be greater but the rewards were greater still.

Now if the situation was really as bad as it seemed he had a few favours to call in. More than a few who could loosely be called friends owed him their unlives. Hell if the worst came to the worst there was always Vinci, though that was possibly the stupidest thing he could do. But if this Gangrel bogeyman really was out and about then… well who knows here and now he was al… well he was dead but that was hardly the point. Shaking himself like a dog, splashing some of this ‘drain’s’ laciest with shit.
“Oh boys you look so much prettier now you have your make up on.” Laughing he leant back against the wall of the sewer.


OOC: Mostly just showing Im still alive!

Morrighan shook the accumulated filth and debrie from her eyes with a flip of her head. The stinking, smelly mess ran off her plastered red hair in rivulets. She just hoped that the unknown (and possibly chemically mixed) run-off they'd swum through wouldn't damage the dye job on her hair.

It was distressing enough that they'd had to wade around in the sewers, thus spoiling the coating on her footwear, but to swim upstream in it had almost had her swearing. Granted she wasn't as fastitidious as a Torrie but still... The taunting voices that egged on their discomfort was enough to stiffen her resolve and keep her from losing what little sustenance Alekz had provided them with. It wasn't enough to make up for her previous expenditure but it did keep the beast at bay. For now.

Despite craving his presence, she was glad Alekz had stayed behind. Jonas would have tried to do his master's bidding but she highly doubted that he'd have survived the trip in any shape at all. Let alone having to care for the crippled vampire. And it worried her to realize that even Alekz, inspite of his vampiric prowess (or, what was left of it), would have been able to make the trip without horrendous cost to his system or a lot of assistance.

The Nosferatu Primogen emerged from the shadows and the Maven woman blinked at the millions of timelines that criss-crossed the cesspool and, ultimately, tied themselves to this shadowed personage. The voice croaked a greeting to Gabriel, making Morag aware that any move she made against the Ventrue or his Gangrel companion, in this place, a serious misstep . She would have to bide her time again. After all, she'd been doing it successfully for nearly sixty odd years. What was a bit more time?

[b:522091a712]GODS![/b:522091a712] What she wouldn't give for a decent shower and a bar of soap, right now!! She couldn't wait to crawl out of this disgusting stew!!! She struggled forward, looking for a way onto dry flooring.

Drain’s followers had, upon his instruction, led the coterie to quarters for the daylight hours. Porter, being the closest thing to a Nosferatu among them, had elected to join the Primogen and Gabriel in his own private study.

The tunnels were unexpectedly spacious enough to allow Drain’s considerable height, and his two guests to follow without too much irritation. Nosferatu of every imaginable shape and size stepped aside as their leader passed. A few grinned cheekily at Gabriel, an action they chose to restrain when the Gangrel growled at them as if daring them.

Pipes, ducting and crumbling masonry littered the study. A sprawling, Victorian bank desk stood proudly in the room’s centre. Hundreds of papers, books, folders bursting full of notes and paper clippings stood, sat and precariously hung over the edges of the imposing furniture piece. From a mass of notebooks, Drain dragged a thickly set wooden chair. He motioned for the duo to sit wherever they felt like before he spoke. Thick, cloying, cheap smelling cigar smoke billowing from his dark face as he smoked.

“So,” He chuckled.

“Denneval eh? You sure you didn’t swallow some of that shit you swam through, Gabe-y? You’re sure talking enough of it.”

“I’m sure, Drain. We know how it sounds, we even know something of Denneval. But...”

“You know nothing! You are a friend, Gabriel. But have you any, ANY idea of the dangers that follow you? I didn’t think so. This Denneval is a mad bastard, that much is true. He’s also fucking bad news! But he’s just the starter. The main course is the Camarilla! I heard about your little “display” in the club two nights ago. But so have they. You’re in deeper shit than even my tunnels can muster.”

“That must be quite alot then.” Porter offered.

“Quite. Porter isn’t it? Yes my predecessor spoke about you. Bile never DID like you.”

“And he was such a charmer.”

Gabriel stammered.

“You said the Camarilla are looking for us? Do they know who we are?”

“From the reports I’ve read, yes. They’re surprised that your Feral friend here is involved, as he’s supposed to be long destroyed. But yes, they’re onto you.”

“So now what? If an Archon comes looking for us, we’re done for.”

Drain smiled darkly. “Not necessarily.”

[i:e48f14873f]"They haven't exactly pin pointed you and your merry little band yet Gabriel."[/i:e48f14873f] The Nosferatu sludged happily through the dank, sludge that coated the greater portion of the study. His desk sat atop a slightly raised platform, it's legs obscured by massive collections of ancient tomes and scrolls. He perched himself upon his crumbling chair like some sort of ancient, gnarled bird of prey. [i:e48f14873f]"I'd be happy to arrange for your safe passage through these tunnels. Hell, I'll even let you use my phone."[/i:e48f14873f]

Drain grinned, Gabriel grimaced, and Porter looked indifferent.

[i:e48f14873f]"For a price?"[/i:e48f14873f] The Ventrue offered at some length. The reply was a deep cackle with a gutteral rip that sounds like flesh being pried apart. The laugh turned into a hacking cough, and their host fired a blood-soaked loogie into the pool around their ankles.

[i:e48f14873f]"Of course! That's the name of the game my dear boy. But of course I don't need to tell you that! You Blue Bloods practically wrote it!"[/i:e48f14873f] he spun around in his chair happily, it's hinges creaking with delight. [i:e48f14873f]"But lets see. What's a reasonable price? How about complete Nosferatu access to Mississippi Trading Co's manifests?"[/i:e48f14873f]

[i:e48f14873f]"Goodbye Drain."[/i:e48f14873f] the Ventrue was already wading back towards the door, carefully circumnavigating the phlegm.

[i:e48f14873f]"Oh come come now Gabey! Don't be a poor sport! It's worth it, I assure you!"[/i:e48f14873f]

The Ventrue didn't slow, but continued his unpleasant sloshing. The Gangrel shook his head from his own spot atop a towering column of books.

Drain flipped open a book relatively free of dust and scanned the pages with one gnarled finger, the brown crackling fingernail scratching down the page.

[i:e48f14873f]"Denneval...Gangrel...suspected 5th Generation or lower. Last known location: France. Volatile, with a history of homicidal tendencies..."[/i:e48f14873f] Drain raised a glistening eye and smiled, [i:e48f14873f]..but then again, don't we all? Suspected in at least 12 of the murders accredited to the Beast of Gevaudan."[/i:e48f14873f]

The Ventrue stopped and turned, his coat tails now floating beside his knees like melted wax from a candle.

[i:e48f14873f]"Ah here we are...seems recently our dear dear Denneval has befallen some hard times. Suspicious behavior. Genetic research. Fake bank accounts. False fronts. Hmm. Busy little beaver for an ancient. Ooooh. Looky look! A point of contact for his buyer. You two knew he was into cloning right?"[/i:e48f14873f]

[i:e48f14873f]"Alright Drain. How much for the file."[/i:e48f14873f] Gabriel grumbled.

[i:e48f14873f]"You know the price Ventrue."[/i:e48f14873f]

[i:e48f14873f]"Jesus Christ. Alright."[/i:e48f14873f]

The laptop on Drain's desk, peppered with stickers of local bands and products, chimed urgently and the hulking figure peered over it's illuminated screen. The beady eyes narrowed he grumbled low.

[i:e48f14873f]"Intruders! Must be your cult friends. The folder is yours. I'll have Loogie show you the way out that leads towards the airport. I'm afraid you're on your own as far as travel arrangements are concerned."[/i:e48f14873f]

He scooped the file off the desk and leapt into the quagmire, unabashed by the fresh stench that arose as he did so. As he lunged towards the door, he shoved the file into Porter's chest.

[i:e48f14873f]"Hold onto that Porter."[/i:e48f14873f] he hefted the great door open and pulled Gabriel uncomfortably close. [i:e48f14873f]You're on your own now Gabe. I'll expect payment when you get back...if you get back."[/i:e48f14873f]


Gabriel tried to push past the Nosferatu, but an iron grip held him tight.

[i:e48f14873f]"Listen Gabriel...the Cammies are after ALL of you now. I don't know how close you are to your little crew out there, but if I were you I wouldn't let them stray too far. Loose lips sink ships, if you know what I mean."[/i:e48f14873f] he frowned thoughtfully and then smiled gruesomely. [i:e48f14873f]"If I were you I'd have em all ashed."[/i:e48f14873f]

[i:e48f14873f]"Thanks for the recommendation."[/i:e48f14873f]

As the two came out of the ‘study’, Herman rose out of his habitual slouch. He was starting to like the sewers, pleasantly dark.
“So then Blue Blood, what’s going on?”
“Just get ready to go Keeper.” Turning to the group as a whole Gabriel spoke, his tones clipped and a little rushed… well as far as possible while maintaining Ventrue dignity anyway. “We’re heading for the airport, I’ll explain on the plane.”
“Any chance of a phone Ventrue?” Gabriel wrinkled his brow at the irksome Lasombra.
“Yes, yes Drain says you can use the land line in his study.” As the keeper slipped past he met porters arm. The Gangrel leant in close and whispered.
“The line will be bugged.”
.
Shrugging the keeper strolled into the room. Snatching up the receiver with his right he tossed it to his left hand, dialling quick. The tone began, three rings and a sensual female voice picked up.
“Bonjour Monsieur Faust, ow can I be of assistance?” Herman smiled even after fifty four years in America Simone still had had a stunningly strong French accent.
“Ok babe, I need a clean suit, a suitcase packed up for pretty much anything. Some of the firm’s newest.. Aha toys. Basically bring me a goodie bag ok?”
“To whence shall I bring dis bag, Monsieur?”
“Cascadia Airport babe, I’ll be there within the hour.” Dropping the phone back. Herman smiled feeling far more secure as he returned to the room

Back in New York, the ghoul slammed her own phone back down.
“Dat, bastard!” Well at least she could get some of his vitea.

[color=white:b63609cbbe][b:b63609cbbe]It's time[/b:b63609cbbe][/color:b63609cbbe]

His head ([i:b63609cbbe]my head[/i:b63609cbbe]) looked up slowly. The order had come like all others... directly to his brain. There was no questioning it, no challenging it. No disobeying it.

His yellow eyes ([i:b63609cbbe]..my eyes aren't yellow..[/i:b63609cbbe]) pierced the darkness around him, discerning the other familiar shapes that began rising. 182 had no idea how long they had been in the "Waiting Room", could be hours, could be days. They trained for similar unknowable lapses of time... it was all a blur.

[color=white:b63609cbbe][b:b63609cbbe]This is not an excercise. We are moving out in 42 minutes. Go to the Equipment Room and equip yourself. Scenario One. Repeat, Scenario One[/b:b63609cbbe][/color:b63609cbbe]

Scenario One. That meant they were going full out. A wave of anticipation ([i:b63609cbbe]confusion[/i:b63609cbbe]) rushed through his body. They were finally leaving the base, hunting their prey. The Prey they had thought about for their entire existance. They sought nothing but the complete obliteration of The Prey.

The lights snapped to life and the doors opened. The leader, Number 24, came into the Waiting Room, fully equipped and looking exactly like the rest of them ([i:b63609cbbe]except for the eyes...[/i:b63609cbbe])([i:b63609cbbe]and the hair, dammit, why is myour hair grey?[/i:b63609cbbe]).

"The Prey has been localized. He is traveling with a coterie. We are to eliminate Porter first and foremost, every obstacle should be taken care of with the least amount of time and resources wasted. Then take out the Ventrue."

A picture flashed before his brain. All of their brains. A blonde, young looking Ventrue that irradiated experience. Not to be taken lightly.

[i:b63609cbbe]Gabriel.
What?
That.. that is Gabriel.
....
Porter....Gabriel.....
We..I am Porter.
We are 182.
My name is Graventhorp![/i:b63609cbbe]

An explosion roared through the air.



"One-Eighty-Two!! Are you listening?"

Reality came back with a forced push.
"I am," his mouth felt dry, numb.

"We are to go to the Equipment Room and prepare ourselves for a Scenario One case."

182([i:b63609cbbe]...that's a number, not my name![/i:b63609cbbe]) looked around. The previously darkened Waiting Room was empty except for him and 24, the rest of the Pack had moved on to equip.

24 looked at him and, with an expressionless ([i:b63609cbbe]they're always expressionless, bub[/i:b63609cbbe]) face, moved aside to let 182 out.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Is 182 being a problem, again?" Dr. Phelps came from behind, startling Harris.
"It is still subject to periods of a trance-like state. Are you sure we should let him go on the mission, sir?"

Phelps sighed and unglued his eyes from the surveillance monitor.
"Yes. 182 may be problematic and irregular, but it is by far the most skilled in combat."
"When it doesn't stop and clutch his head...or suddenly attack technicians," Harris pointed out without looking at Phelps.

Phelps sighed. 182 would either prove to be a great assest or just a failure the Gangrel and his coterie would eliminate easily. Not much at risk. Except for...

"Has 182 presented any other...abnormal...traits?"
"You mean to ask if its heart is beating or if it has bitten another clone again?"
"....yes."
"No... the subject has not shown any vampiric traits since the decontamination 4 months ago."

Dr. Phelps had not informed his master that he had found one of the clones to have an un-beating heart and dead metabolism... as well as an early stage of developed canine teeth. He chalked the whole issue to cellular memory, there WERE theories about the subject... so what was so strange about a vampire's clone developing vampiric traits? Plus, he had taken care of those trait.., shocked the heart into beating, force-started the metabolism, and "decontaminated" the subject completely.

It had responded well, Phelps thought, and he couldn't afford to simply eliminate one of the clones on something as trivial as vampiric traits, his life depended on the success of the mission. And 182's fighting prowess could tilt the balance in his favor. So what if it drained a couple of civilians of blood in the progress?

"Send him another concentrared shot of telepathic programming... that usually keeps it under control for some time."
"Yes sir."

Phelps began to leave.
"Sir?" Harris called
"What is it?" Phelps turned around near the Control Room's door.
"Are you sure 182 won't burst into flames if it comes in contact with sunlight again?"
"If it does, make sure it happens as far away from the base as possible..."

He couldn't let his master know of any exploding kindred. They had already tested sunlight on 182 and it had not affected him..... although it [i:b63609cbbe]did[/i:b63609cbbe] piss the motherfucker off enough to literally tear a guard apart.

The lanky, mostly skinless sewer rat listened to the brief conversation on his extension line, he smiled and shook his head in mild amusement. He took one more look at the security camera in Drains office, lightly touched the image of Gabriel O’Brien and felt a twinge of Pride and guilt in his undead body.

Drain watched the Nosferatu and smiled when the fingers touched the video monitor. The primogen watched as his most prized childe swiveled in the chair.

“Sir, are they going to the airport? He will never change will he? He wants to leave town so he takes the biggest and most watched way to do it.”

“Ill take care of it. They can take one of my yachts. One of them leaves in about an hour. I will have them dropped off” Drain took a second to reflect and grin. “At my summer house down stream, then shuttled down to the other airstrip. Now Mr O’Brien what of our other guests, are they finding our warren unpleasant?”

At that moment a scurry of rat messengers slip into the room. Drain picked the leader up and held him in his arms like a small cat. He listened to the small squeaks and clicks of the rodent. If he had had a beating heart it would have been heard in the dark monitor lit room. In one quick motion he squeezed the life from the rat and threw it down to the floor with a wet slap.

“Damn you Porter.” Shrieked Drain “The PV I can handle but you always have brought trouble behind you….. Stop trying to kill the intruders. From this point on herd them into cages. Preferably mud filled holes somewhere where they can’t move but where their strength will be diminished. Can you do that? No, No never mind ill do that here. I have something more important for you to do. It will help us both

Mr O’Brien ran from the room to make arrangements Drain stormed over to the Hall where the coterie was waiting for a guide out.

----------------------------------------------------------------
The old door blew open with the force of Drains booted foot.
“What have you brought to my home? Never mind I will find out because the price of my help has just risen. Some of your friends are waiting on most ways out of town. AND THAT INCLUDES THE CASCADIAN INTERNATIOAL AIRPORT.” In a small child like mocking voice he said” ooh lets go to the airport they will never think of that. “Switching back his voice, scowling and looking over to Herman. “You make me sick. I never told you WHAT airport. So now you have unwittingly sent your assistant off to certain death. But at least it will be a nice clue for them to follow.”

OOC: Ahhh hell.

Herman tilted his head to one side… Simone? Dead? Well so far as he knew they had not identified him. How would they? Pushing the thoughts to one side for the moment, the darling ghoul had gotten out of worse.
“Nothing is certain, except perhaps that you mean, to [i:5230efd81c] which [/i:5230efd81c] airport.” He smiled sickeningly. “Now lets get the hell out of here. I’ll get in touch with firm when we land.” The last part he growled. A mix of frustration with the absence of the delivery and concern over Simone.

He should have seen this coming. This was becoming a far more serious game than he suspected.




In the back of his mind a thought began to surface…

Simone was gonna be [i:5230efd81c]piiiiiiiiisssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssed[/i:5230efd81c]

The Coterie crept along the service tunnel Drain had directed them to.

[i:1f383c8173]“Turn right at the end, walk another hundred yards and you’ll emerge into the drainage channel by the river. My “yacht” will be waiting.[/i:1f383c8173]

As they had left, Drain had taken Porter aside. His gnarled wizened fingers gripping the Ancient Gangrel’s shoulder painfully. Porter gritted his teeth and looked at the shadowgave before him.

[i:1f383c8173]“Before you go. You might want to take this.”[/i:1f383c8173] Drain’s voice bubbled over his withered lips. He handed something to Porter, wrapped in thick, greasy cloth. Porter looked at it, then slowly unravelled the cloth bundle. Peeling the layers back to reveal something almost shining.

[i:1f383c8173]“My tomahawk! How? Where?”

“Heh, you left it buried in some Garou’s unfortunate spinal column after the great “unpleasantness.”[/i:1f383c8173]

He eyed the Nosferatu warily, [i:1f383c8173]“What’s the catch?”

“No catch. Just thought you’d want it back.”

“Much obliged.”[/i:1f383c8173]

Drain’s eyes seemed to soften.

[i:1f383c8173]Trick of the light[/i:1f383c8173], Porter supposed.

[i:1f383c8173]“Be seeing you.”[/i:1f383c8173] Drain offered.

[i:1f383c8173]“I hope so.”[/i:1f383c8173]

The tomahawk gently bounced on his thigh as he led the trainee sewer rats to the river. Herman and Alois took up the rear, with an almost jaunty hopping motion. They were strangely enjoying themselves. The Maven girl looked troublingly alert, her eyes almost wholly black as she read the strands of fate in the tunnel.

[i:1f383c8173]“What do you see? I mean, what does “Fate” look like?”[/i:1f383c8173] Gabriel turned his attentions behind him.

[i:1f383c8173]“Ribbons. Ribbons of light. I guess.”[/i:1f383c8173]

Gabriel’s gruffness seemed appeased by that. He smiled at her, his mind pondering on what it must be like to see the future every waking moment.

[i:1f383c8173]“And each ribbon is a different colour? What colour’s mine then?”[/i:1f383c8173]

She smiled, surprisingly sweetly, [i:1f383c8173]“Blue of course.”[/i:1f383c8173]

Porter snorted as Alois chuckled aloud. [i:1f383c8173]“That figures.”[/i:1f383c8173]

Emerging from the pipeline, they began looking upstream for a yacht. A few rusted old barges snailed by. Then one particularly fatal looking refuse barge turned hard to starboard and began its slow ponderous movement towards their position.

[i:1f383c8173]“You have got to be shiiii!”

“Shhh! Get down!”[/i:1f383c8173] Porter’s ears twitched seconds before the first arrow struck his shoulder and bounced away. However the projectile was not meant to imbed itself. There was a low hissing sound then a flash of light as the arrowhead detonated.

[i:1f383c8173]“Covering fire! Target the Feral! Concentrate all fire on him.”[/i:1f383c8173]

His face dropped. [i:1f383c8173]“What the fuck have I done now?”[/i:1f383c8173]

Porter lifted his tomahawk, shaking his head as six clones appeared from the brush around them. He barked at Gabriel, who reluctantly agreed leading the others on board the barge.

[i:1f383c8173]“I’ll catch up. I just need a little R’n’R.”[/i:1f383c8173] He grinned cheekily.

Gabriel ordered the barge pilot to move it out into the middle of the river. Looking back at the increasingly smaller figure of Porter he muttered some hushed obscenity under his breath and tapped the pommel of each gladius.

Alois’ face seemed to collapse on itself.

[i:1f383c8173]“Wait a minute! Are those things clones? They look just like him!”[/i:1f383c8173] Gabriel nodded sagely.

[i:1f383c8173]“Now you have some idea of what we’re dealing with I hope?”[/i:1f383c8173]

Porter swayed left, then right before taking the head from one of the clones as it moved to attack. It fell without sound. A silence suddenly followed by heavy machine gun fire as two more figures stepped into sight. Their equipment and the insignia on their foreheads made Gabriel gasp.

[i:1f383c8173]Cultists![/i:1f383c8173]

Bullets bounced harmlessly off Porter’s toughened skin. Then suddenly one passed through and ricocheted between two ribs, pulping his left lung.

[i:1f383c8173]“What the fuck?”[/i:1f383c8173] He growled, clutching his chest in agony.

Morrie shrieked from the barge.

[i:1f383c8173]“Porter! It’s the arrowhead! It must be some sort of chemical that removes your resistance to physical injury. Get out of there!”

“Sons of bitches!”[/i:1f383c8173] The tomahawk spun six times before it caught the gunman in the chest. Shattering his chest bone and leaving him breathing his own blood. As he toppled, Porter pulled his ax free and trapped a clone, using the ax handle as leverage he snapped the clone’s arm then chopped a clawed hand into his eyes. Something pierced his side, something lifted him from the floor and tossed him into a tree.

[i:1f383c8173]“Strong assholes too!”[/i:1f383c8173]

He fell gracelessly from the tree, blood streaming from his side. His claws extended as he leapt on the remaining clones. His legs propelling one onto a coil of razorwire. The others were like sheep to the slaughter as a wolf entered their pen.

Minutes later, the Gangrel stood on shaking legs. He blinked as blood entered his left eye and cursed. Then he saw the remaining clone haul himself free of the wire.

The clone took aim with a strange looking pistol. Porter examined the face of the clone. Then punched him out with one powerful jab to the face.

[i:1f383c8173]“Little shit DOES look like me. Well me if I weighed less, pumped iron and grew my hair. Hmmm actually his hairs the wrong colour. It’s grey?”[/i:1f383c8173] He grinned before dragging the unconscious clone into the river, swimming to the waiting barge.

Once on board he staggered and leaned on the side of the boat.

[i:1f383c8173]“Figured we might get something from him once he wakes up.”

“IF he wakes up you mean? You hit him pretty hard, Porter."

“They started it!”[/i:1f383c8173] The Gangrel pouted.

Relief had just found respite, washing over Gabriel in waves as he stood at the backmost section of Drain's "Yacht", watching the corpses of the recently dispatched clones lay motionless on the docks. The Ventrue grimaced as slowly the figure stirred, and began to reassemble themselves, driving the final vestiges of hope from Gabriel's stomach. Just before they sunk from sight, the Ventrue could just make them out, standing shakily, peering at their escaping prey.

Shaken, he turned and peered at the motley crew sitting patiently at the foot of a monumental collection of garbage, chatting idly. They cast doubtful and suspicious looks as they spoke in hushed tones, whispering condemnations amongst themselves.

[i:aced288bfa]"Wake him up Ports."[/i:aced288bfa] he grunted, taking a seat nearby. The Gangrel happily obliged, hauling the limp figure up over his shoulder and then heaving him up by the ankle in one swift motion. Without hesitation, the brawny Scot dipped his prize in the thick, stewy sludge over the side of the barge. There was a sputter and a cough, as the unconcious attacker's lungs were filled with polluted river water.

Porter threw him to the deck and the coterie gathered around him, peering at him as though he were some caged animal.

Herman spoke first.

[i:aced288bfa]"So...explanations or do we simply shred you to bits here?"[/i:aced288bfa]

Everything was going [b:ecaf56e14c]way[/b:ecaf56e14c] too fast!

Morag's thoughts were spinning again: she was with a group of people she didn't know or trust, she still stank of Drain's sewer-home and Alekz was left behind to divert the heat from them. It was the last part that weighed on her the most.

Which is probably why she, [b:ecaf56e14c]A.)[/b:ecaf56e14c] had called a warning to Porter (when she could have let it to the enemy to get rid of him for her) and [b:ecaf56e14c]B.)[/b:ecaf56e14c] had simply yelled, instead of just blasting away with her gun (which was her normal reaction).

It was time for a talk with Gabriel. Soon! Then she almost lost herself in the aftershock of battle giggles as she suddenly recalled Gabriel's earlier question of timeline physicallity. There was none. They did have a sort of mental flavor to them, each being unique enough to sort out from the others. Nor was it something she could adequately explain to a non-Maven, so, she shrugged, color was as good an answer as any.

She looked down at the bloodied and nearly drowned clone that the Gangrel had dragged on board their tranport. And choked! [i:ecaf56e14c]"He's got [b:ecaf56e14c]two[/b:ecaf56e14c] time strands attached to him!"[/i:ecaf56e14c] she spoke loudly. Everyone turned to stare at her, some in astonishment, some in puzzlement.

Shaking her head in denial of she what she percieved, she spoke again. [i:ecaf56e14c]"Normally, everyone has only one strand that is solely their's,"[/i:ecaf56e14c] she tried to make them understand, [i:ecaf56e14c]"but this one doesn't! There are two distinctive lines attached to his "soul". I guess you could call it that, for lack of a better word."[/i:ecaf56e14c] She paused. [i:ecaf56e14c]"Hmm... one of them seems to be fainter than the other. Almost like it's fading out."[/i:ecaf56e14c]

She frowned down at the hapless being, then toed at him. [i:ecaf56e14c]"I'm feeling the need for a feeding, at the moment, would anyone mind if I took a sip or two? I guarantee he'd be more likely to reply truthfully to any questions you'd be asking!"[/i:ecaf56e14c] She glanced from Gabriel to Porter to see if there were any objections.

The pain had long since trascended the physical. His ([i:970d6371f0]my?[/i:970d6371f0]) mind was in turmoil. Memories that weren't supposed to be there flashed and swayed before him. Something had changed.

[i:970d6371f0]Who am I?

Porter.

Graventhorp.[/i:970d6371f0]

182 was suddenly free of the clone programming, that much he sensed more than knew. But with his mind free of that enclosure, there was something rather evident he couldn't help but notice. There were two "minds" inside him. Whatever "him" was supposed to be, anyway.

[i:970d6371f0]Who are you!?

Graventhorp.

Porter.[/i:970d6371f0]

He heard voices. Apart from those in his head, that is. Far away voices that seemed to surround him. The physical pain came back then. His yellow eyes flew open, revealing a starry sky and several figures looking down at him.

With speed that at some level astounded even him, the clone jumped up and summersaulted backwards onto the boat's rim. In the fraction of a second he realized all his weapons had been stripped from him, he decided to elongate his Feral Claws. The deadly prongs instantly protruding from his extended fingers.

He snapped completely to conciousness then and stared at the claws which vanished as quickly as they had come.

"Weren't the clones supposed to be mortal?" a perplexed voice floated up to him.

182 looked up. There was Gabriel. The Prissy Ventrue he had trusted his life to in several ocassions, one of the few beings he could actually consider calling a "friend", for lack of better term.

And there, beside him, was Porter.

He slid back into the boat, ignoring the fact that several weapons were pointing at him. Porter.

[i:970d6371f0]...Porter!?[/i:970d6371f0]

"You'll tell us everything you know you cheap knock-off, or I'll rip your throat off. You have 20 seconds."

"I don't think 20 seconds will be enough. I don't ...know.... anything." He felt his vocal chords moving for what seemed to be the first time in his existance. Although he clearly remembered having talked pretty much for hundreds of years.

It was all rather confusing.

He grabbed his head, trying to will his thoughts into shape. No such success. He looked up at him. At himself. At Porter.

"Who are you?" his voice croaked.
"We're the one asking the questions here." Gabriel replied cooly from the side. 182 could sense perplexion in his tone. He knew Gabe well enough to sense his tone. He stopped questioning WHY he knew Gabriel well enough and simply accepted it. Acceptance of the unacceptable suddenly began easing the pain inside his head.

Then pain exploded outside of his head, as a heavy fist was slammed accross his skull.

"TALK! Who sent you!? Who made you!? Who the HELL are you!?" Porter was as confused as Gabriel.

What did they know about confusion?

182 tongued his teeth painfully. They were all still there. His face was a bloodied, pained mess. He looked back up at his attacker.

"Ya wanna know who I am?" He spit out blood on the floor, "Don't we all."

The Gangrel was about to repeat the attack on the clone before Gabriel stopped him by grabbing his shoulder.

"He's talking now, that's more than we actually expected, let him explain himself." Gabriel was curious.

182 chuckled. And then it hit him. A wave of sudden urgency. Where was it!?

His eyes darted across the boat.

"Where is it? Where is my sword? Where's Lupus Mortis!?"

“Lupus Mortis? Wolf death, death of wolves…. Please tell me this chump has a big spell forged silver sword.” Cracking his knuckles Herman stepped forward, smiling and making eye contact with the faux Porter. “Lets mind rape him Ventrue. Between the two of us we can leave him thinking he is a sunbather and have everything we need to know. What do you say?”

Herman was still moody about not going to the airport his had suspected and thus remaining in just a pair of torn grey trousers, scuffed black shoes and a now tattered tight black t-shirt and almost totally unarmed. True unarmed and helpless we hardly the same thing but it was the [i:538877d62e] principal [/i:538877d62e] of the thing…

*poke* Live thread, [i:d881ec0642]live[/i:d881ec0642], [i:d881ec0642]LIVE[/i:d881ec0642]


lol Anyone there at all?

We're here, Whightwolf, don't worry. The holidays over took us and it takes a while for all that Seasonal Cheer to wear off. :shock: Considering the last two years around this time, this group is positively lively! hehhehe