Across Enemy Lines

-=Arkady Dallas=-

Faster Arkady, there is a small window to succeed, then you will have failed. Athosides said, his booming bass voice echoing around the room.

Easy for him to say, I was the one running across the gym jumping obstacles and dodging whatever he decided to throw at me. Running in combat boots isn't easy, and I really hate it. My pants were combat fatigues, 1950's army issue, my shirt a dark plain brown number, my duster a black canvas with plates in it. Master wanted the test to be authentic, though he wouldn't be letting me wear any of this when I left here. As a vampire I didn't need the duster for warmth, and at least I wasn't generating the heat a human would in this get up. Constantin shot me in the back with something large caliber, making me miss my next step onto the beam I was supposed to run along. Oh yeah, and I was repeating this cantrip Athosides wanted me to use. "Parberic, avaustis, Sibtaric, Hecate." Totally useless unless someone had placed a ward in my path...there it is.

Now the interesting thing was saying the antidote while running. "Minii neremjit toirog süirch Baina!" I shouted the last word as I crossed the ward. Just as I felt the wind from it's activation it dimmed out. That was close, it would burn itself into my body and take all night to heal if I missed it. I laughed, jumped for the eagle talisman as it came in reach. I had done it. Fuck Athosides and his test. I was ready. I had done it.

Well done Arkady. Present yourself and give the parameters of your mission.

I carried the eagle talisman to him, dropping to a knee in front of the Regent. He was a tall barrel chested vampire in an elaborate white robe, with red trim. His black beard was full and thick, his black eyes hard and cold. This vampire had been around for a while, and he tolerated me at best. I was too young to understand his anachronist attitude and too American to be as servile as he thought I should be.

"The parameter of my mission are as follows: I am to travel to San Francisco. In the event that the Kuie-jin take over the city as all signs point to, I am to make myself indespensable to the Tremere left in the city. I am to report actions in the city and conditions as they become apparent. I am to find the opportunity to take down a Kuie-jin and attempt the Ritual of the Bitter Rose in order to find out if such a ritual is useful on the Oriental faction. I am to keep my true goal hidden from the Tremere of the city, and only report my findings to you Constantin, who will report to you. Such are the parameters of my mission."

Athosides smiled his cold, hungry smile. Very good pupil. Do not fail your clan. Do not fail me. We need to know the Orientals every weakness.

A night out on the Town

I left the chantry, driving the sedan I had purchased two years ago. It's a dark blue 2000 Volkswagen Jetta. It's nearly invisible in traffic, but efficient and fast. Perfect for exploring the city without attracting attention. After all these years, the Special Agent training hasn't left me.

I drove around the city, enjoying the lights. My hunger was low, but I desired to be warm again. I parked near a bar and made my way up the street. I felt the music, could smell the humanity inside. On the wall near the door was a piece of paper on a nail. "Rave party at the Railroad station, live music!"

I entered the bar. There were several people here. After only a few minutes I found an interested woman, and with only a little mental push she allowed me to bite her and take some of her warmth. She tasted of perfume and mediocrity. I licked her wound clean, thanked her for her time, and paid for her drinks. She was still sitting dazed as I got up and left.

I remembered the piece of paper again and looked it over. The train station was in Oakland, across the bay. We are not technically supposed to go there without permission of the Mandarinate, but I was feeling itchy. I needed to explore a little. I had been stuck in this city for too long for my tastes.

I got in my Volkswagen and drove across the bridge. Leaving wasn't an issue, coming back in would likely be the part where I would be stopped. The bay shone under the night lights of San Francisco, and the dark water twinkled with reflection. Occasional ships dotted it's surface.

I crossed into Oakland, made a right down into the darkened streets there. Half of the streetlights were out. I was okay with that; my heightened senses didn't need the light. I got to where I could see the train station and drove away several blocks. Once I reached an area where I felt like my car wouldn't be stripped in minutes, I parked it and walked back to the abandoned station.

I mean it should have been abandoned. It wasn't. There were currently lights on inside. I could feel the music while still beyond the fence. There were people out front smoking various substances and drinking. I walked among them, amazed at the behaviors on display. Men and women were making out, a couple were shooting up. Three guys were having a slapping contest, loudly challenging each other and laughing after each exchange. Youth, the belief that they were indestructible and untouchable. I was sure I could hear the sounds of sex coming from the shadows created by the gothic structure of the station. It might have even been consensual.

At the door were a couple really large black men, armed with hand guns and shotguns. The man on the left had his shotgun slung across his shoulders, and a baseball bat in his hand. His partner also had the shotgun across his back, and the handle of extendable Asp sticking out of his pocket. Both of them were wearing black denim vests. He stepped in front of me, sticking his hand out palm out in the universal gesture to stop. I did. "You a white-bread Motherfucka ain't you?" He said, his voice a bass rumble.

I simply looked at him. He was right, I didn't have anything to add.

"What the fuck you want White Bread?" He asked.

"Looks like a party. Thought I would dance a little, look at the pretty ladies, maybe get laid." I answered, smiling. I even tried to make it touch my eyes, so I could be more unassuming.

"Sure. Ten dollars to come in. Gotta pay for the band. And we are gonna check you for a wire." He tuned his palm flat, pointing at it.

I pulled my wallet out of my coat, handing him the ten dollars. I lifted my shirt, opened my coat. "No wire." I stated.

He looked at me a moment, then nodded his head. "I know you got a gun. I ain't worried about it. You pull it out though, and one of us will spread your guts all over the floor. These shot guns are loaded with three shot loads. They will systematically remove all you vital organs when we shoot you. So don't make us, I hate to clean up the mess."

"I get it. Just here for a good time, but a man can't be too careful in this part of town." I said showing my hands in a sign of peace and surrender. "Have a good time. The boys have good time stuff over under the plastic there." He said with a jerk of his head toward a fenced off area.

"What kind of "good time stuff" they got?" I asked idly curious. He looked at me hard.

"I ain't the fucking menu. If you're interested go talk to the man. Now get the fuck out of the way, there’s some titties coming in behind you." He hooked a thumb toward the stage area. I nodded and moved past him. He already was checking out the young girls coming in behind me. I found myself focusing on the music. It was hypnotic almost, the singer appeared to be in her early twenties. White skin, beautiful red hair cascading around her. She was belting out a rock song. She seemed very alive. Her energy and emotion were palpable.

The bar was a make-shift affair. Some flat doors propped up on barrels. Behind the "bar" was a skinny white guy and a heavily tattooed woman. Both had the sides of their heads shaved, the top heavily colored in reds and blues. I could see they were filling red plastic cups out of beer kegs. There were several bottles of cheap whiskey and other hard alcohol varieties on some stairs behind them. I ordered a beer and paid the skinny white kid. I wasn't going to drink it, but it was a good cover.

There was a pretty good crowd dancing. I scanned the room, nodding my head to the beat of the music. The red heads voice purred across my nerves. I felt my mood increasing, and I couldn't help but grin as I listened to the music and watched the dancers. I wasn’t the only one, the whole room seemed suddenly happy, and having a good time. This was a happening party. No women smelling of mediocrity and perfume here. My curiosity was getting the better of me. I wanted to know what was going on in the fenced off area. There was a gate, and the area beyond it was covered in a light blue construction plastic. Another black guy guarded the gate. I focused briefly as I danced with a couple of women, and even though they were rubbing on me, I sent out the thought that I wasn't interesting, didn't matter. They turned back to each other, and I saw them turn back to each other and begin a very seductive kissing and touching each other. I made a minor effort to not touch anyone else, and as I was exuding the mental compulsion "don't look at me" people didn't. I walked past the black guy. He wouldn't have noticed me anyway; he was being orally serviced by a black woman on her knees. He was holding her head and had his eyes closed.

I walked deeper into the fenced off area. Black lights lit the area, with portable fencing making up a hallway type area. After about fifteen feet the tunnel opened up to a set of tables near the east wall. A group of black men were dispensing syringes with a substance in them that shone in the black lights around us. Some young people were buying it ahead of me. The gang members were grinning, taking the money.

"Take it from Slim. You gonna have a good time folks. This shit is smooth, and no hang overs. In the morning you will feel like you fucked all night and got eight hours of sleep, even if you stayed up all night. It's good shit, designer stuff. The yuppies are gonna be selling their cars to get their hands on it, it's that good. You all gettin in on the ground floor as it were. You gettin early bird discounts. Fuckin A." a slender gangster said, his grin pure sweetness and polish. A green and black bandana covered his head, which looked to be bald. He wasn't overly tall, perhaps five foot nine. His teeth were very white, his mahogany skin smooth and slightly shiny with sweat. He was laughing and "gimme five!" to the kids, easing their fears. "No way man, you can't get hooked on this stuff, but you will want more I can assure you. All in good fun. None of the junkie stuff here."

Behind me the music changed, love, longing. My heart ached, and I was caught up in a swirl of remembrance of a girl I dated while in school. Her name was Freda and we made love on her bed while her parents were gone. I could smell her hair and feel her touch. I left for the military a few days after that incident, and I never saw her again. I could feel a passionate heat fill me, a desire to make love to her again. I shook myself, refocusing on my surroundings. The couple had moved off and were sitting on some bleacher type seating shooting up. I could see several people sitting or lying there with their empty syringes still in their hands.

I walked over to where one of the young people was laying down and checked him. His eyes were dilated and unresponsive. I touched his neck, checking for a pulse. Nothing. Fuck. He was dying. I grabbed him and yanked him to the floor. I looked up at Slim and shouted "Do you have any Narcan?"

He looked over at me, definitely seeing me for the first time. His dark skin paled, his eyes got big. "Naw man, aint got no Narcan. This isn't fuckin herion."

I ripped the young mans shirt and started pumping, doing CPR. The guy on the floor jerked with each pump, but he wasn't reacting. I looked up and could see the gang bangers scrambling, throwing stuff in bags and boxes. I saw one of the short black men run toward the gate at a dead sprint. The kid under me wasn't moving, still not breathing. I tried to give him a breath, but he didn't react. As my breath pushed into him a dark, cold energy entered my mouth, and made my throat and chest spasm. I didn't technically need to breath, but something stopped my ability to do so for a second. I jerked away from the man on the floor, getting my breath back. The guy on the floor was dead.

I heard some screams, and all the gang bangers I had seen so far came pouring into the area where we were. I could now smell smoke heavy in the air. There were a series of bangs, and the music stopped. The gang members were now filing out the steel fire door situated nearby. More screams came from the dance floor.

I ran to the gate. It was locked. I drew my pistol and shot the chain, separating the links. I jerked the chain loose, and could see a disorganized mass of people surging back and forth. All the lights went out, and the smoking hall was wreathed in darkness.

I went to the doors where I entered the train station. A bunch of people were massed up against them, pushing to get out. The doors wouldn't open. I pulled people back and checked the doors myself they were stuck and chained shut on the outside. A mass of people pushed up against me, all trying to get out. I scrambled back and started back for the fenced off area. Maybe the door there would let us out. I wasn't the first one there, the red haired singer was also there. Again, it was locked. This door was a steel fire door, set in a steel frame. No good. We wouldn't be going through that.