Mein Doppelgänger-Datei
When did I first start to notice the strange coincidences of people claiming to have met me before, but of whom, I had no recollection?
New York City - 2000 C.E.
The Sabbat stranglehold on New York had been broken late the previous year, but the Sword of Caine seemed not to have received that memo and was still making things difficult in the Outer Boroughs. I had received orders from the Sheriff Qadir Al - Asmai, that I was to take the midnight ferry to Staten Island and I would be met by Boss Callihan, the self appointed spokesman for the Anarch movement in New York.
The name Boss Callihan conjured images of a ZZ-Top biker wannabe; the reality was quite another matter. At least I had the beard right, it was reddish grey and obscured the upper portion of the old man's 19th century garb. It is one thing to see actors wear costumes on stage and in digital productions, it is something else altogether to meet a man whose every-night clothing consists of a black woolen overcoat; a patterned waistcoat of stripped grey velvet; a pair of grey wool trousers; a white cotton dress shirt with collar studs; a pair of gold cuff links; a crimson cravat; a dark grey felt bowler; and a pair of men's black leather lace-up boots.
In truth, the old man was an imposing sight sanding on the ferry landing - alone. I was barely three years under the shadow and already I was falling into the habit of stereotypes. The term automatically conjured the image of a gang of punks in shabby modern leathers, not this refined and distinguished elderly gentleman.
When I walked up to Boss Callihan, he looked me strait in the eyes and welcomed me to Staten Island, the preserve of the Anarch Movement in New York. He had a firm handshake and a ready smile as we strolled away from the ferry landing towards a waiting car.
