Hell of a Hangover (Intro)

[Kiera]

Kiera groaned and reached up, grasping her head and rolling over. It was dark, and cold - distantly cold somehow- and her mouth was as dry as when she'd had a wad of cotton stuck in it for half a dozen hours. She curled on her side, feeling the grainy texture of dirty pavement beneath her flesh. She felt like retching with an intensity she had never felt before.

She opened her eyes and tried to sit up, trying to force her brain into a pattern conducive to any kind of thought, or memory for that matter. There were a couple of things she really wanted to know. Like where she was, and why she was there. And what the hell had she been drinking? Or smoking? She ran a hand down over her arm and tried to get saliva producing in her mouth again as her head spun. She was forced, int eh end, to brace herself against the pavement with one hand until the world stopped turning. Unfortunately, her stomach didn't' stop turning with it.

"What the fucking hell . . .?"

She thought back, hard- which she had to admit hurt like hell- and tried again, this time slightly more successfully, to remember what she had been doing a few hours ago. Drinking. And smoking. Okay,t hat was obvious, that was what she did every night. Especially when she had pushed her luck to it's end with the rest of the gang, and gotten her ass thrown out for the night.

She tried to remember where she had been drinking, and was greeted with the hazy image of some dirty, darkly lit club of some sort. Not a regular haunt, not anywhere she had ever been with anyone else. She didn't' even remember why she went to that particular club in the first place, but she did kinda remember being there with someone. She didn't know who, but it was a someone. A male someone, who was handy and probably as high as a kite.

And then she didn't remember anything,and following this trail of thought hurt worse than just trying to remember where she was. As a matter of fact, she was done with it. Sick of it. SHe wanted to stand up and get home.

Running a hand back through her tangled and disgusting hair, she braced herself against a nearby wall and forced herself to her feet, closing her eyes when everything went on a merry go ride around her again. She was gonna shit a brick if she found out that someone in the gang had given her some bad shit to smoke. If they tought her little temper tantrum earlier was out of hand they were gonna be in for a real-

Ugh- what WAS that smell. The slight girl clutched at her stomach as she bent over, sure she was gonna hurl, but instead she managed to draw herself back up and follow something she didn't recognize, but that drew at her all the same. It was coppery, maybe a little irony . . definitely metallic, but how was she to know what copper or tin smelled like anyway?

Whatever, she thought, as she tugged at her tiny black and white shirt. SHe should have worn more clothes . . Hadn't she at least been wearing a shirt when she went out? She looked down at her zebra striped bra and made a face. She was sure . . .

What the HELL was that smell? It was getting stronger as she got closer to the end of the alley she was in, an alley she wasn't really all that sure she wanted to leave when she was barely dressed but, she thought as she wrapped her arms over her chest, she was gonna have to leave if she was going to get home. So she stepped out into the night anyway, snarling at the fact that she suddenly realized that she had NO idea which way home was.

[Wade]

Ya know its a funny thing, havin Soo many Rabble runnin round the city. Most people think of Vamps as bein a buncha Bela clones like the Bluebloods and Fops. No one ever stops to take a closer look at biker bars an pool halls for those guys with the glowy eyes and thirty two point smiles. More than you'd expect, though it ain't that often you see Brujah hangin out with the rest of the group. Anarchists got a problem organizin most of the time.

Still, part of being the Orkin man for the prince says I gotta keep tabs on these fuckers, an that meets keepin up with their parties. Raves are sorta a Brujah only event, with only a few other clans gettin involved...or really even Wanting to get involved...Good play for a stuffed shirt to get himself staked for lack of manners, ya know what I mean.

Naturally, makin ehm harder to find just makes it that much more fun to me. Roughnecks like leavin markers to their parties throughout the city, kinda riffin on the whole Angels & Demon bit...only with less Tom Hanks hair and fuckin hell of a lot more partyin. Been just under a year since I caught the last shindig from them, an pickin up on one now is hard from there...or would be if I didn't have the Sheriff on speed-dial.

He's a bit too leader a brujah to go to alot of them, but he does point me in the right direction, and I find the place okay. Big ole warehouse. Floors covered in blood in a lot of places, couple of dead bodies stacked in the back. Plenty of meth and booze an shit for the humans to enjoy before their bitedown. Brujah love gettin high offa stoned humans...but then who doesn't? I remember these two I had from Jerset once...Bill and JacK? Anyway, real high class shit. Even if the fat fuck wouldn't shut up the whole damn time....fuckin lunchbox.

Course, once I'm here, I start gettin that old familar tingle. Not quite a scent, not quite the whole psychic bit...just somethin drawing me outside, as I walk out to find some asian chick wanderin down the street. Some asian chick I ain't never seen before, and who still stinks like a human.

Well I'll be fucked. Looks like one of the vamps at the party had a few too many and made himself a stray.

Prince is gonna be fuckin pissed.

Straightenin out my usually blood stained garmets, I flash the new girl a smile an speak, makin small talk as I evaulate if I should just cut her head off here, or just drag her ass to the prince. New Brujah primmy in town seems like sorta a softy, he'd probably want to keep her....

"Well Hullo there pretty thing. Ya take that bra off a real zebra, or one of tha fake ones at the animal park? Swear they're paintin up donkies these days....You look a bit lost....want some help outta the rabbit hole? Maybe get you something to sink your teeth into? A little fresh blood for a newblood?"

Tell ya, Brujah are sure gettin a hell of a lot prettier. I'd be preppin Johnson for lift off is I had a full stomach.

[Kiera]

Fresh blood? New blood? WHat the hell was this crazy mother fucker talking about?

Kiera blinked away the blazing migraine that was setting itself deep behind her eyes and shook her head to clear it, then tried again to look at whoever it was that was speaking. If she'd been anyone normal she probably would have turned the other way and run, but she wasn't, and she didn't.

"What the hell are you talking about? New blood?" Her head was still spinning,a nd every step she took away from the wall left her feeling more uncertain about her own footing, but the fact that someone was looking at her now made her pull her spine strait and give it her best go at looking like she had complete control over herself.

She threw a hip out a bit just out of old habit, but her arms remained crossed over her chest. Where the hell had her shirt gone anyway?

"Do you think I'm a moron or something? I don't just walk off with every nutcase I meet on the street."

Okay, that wasn't precisely true, if it were she wouldn't be playing twenty questions in her own muddled head right now, trying to figure out where she was and the quickest route home . . . and why her mouth still felt so dry. It was like she'd taken a shitload of Oxycontin and forgotten to drink something.

"My guys, they'll be around to get me pretty soon, I can handle myself until then."

Another lie. Her guys had no idea where she was, and probably didn't care either. She was half tempted to just go with the freaky nutball . . . if he weren't a freaking nutball.

She groaned suddenly, forgetting her show of strength and confidence for a moment as another wave of pain inducing nausea swept over her. This time it was bad enough to make her cluth her stomach and lean against the wall for support.

That's when it hit her, or pierced her anyway. She could taste something in her mouth suddenly, something sharp and tangy, but as sweet as the first sip of a hot vodka after a week of liquid abstinence. It was blood. Her blood. She'd bitten her lip, unintentionally, when she had been fighting off the latest round of what she was beginning to think of as hunger pains.

How the hell had she- wait one god be damned minute . . she had fangs!?

"What the HELL is going on?"

[Wade]

Swear ta fucking God, I'm gonna Brain the god damned Sire if I find him. What sort of a fuckin loser leaves a hot chick neonate to fend for herself? Specially when I can think of Much better things to do with my own personal love slave...not that she is. I ain't got no desire to see what a Brujah chick does when she's pissed in bed....Okay, maybe a little. But not enough to test it with this one. Nope, this is strictly business...and what a fuckin shit assignment this is.

Just ta those following at home, tellin ANYONE that vampires exist ain't gonna cut it in most cases. In point of fact they'll just think you're fuckin brain damaged, if not insane...which I am...but thats fuckin life, right? Anyway tellin ehm about vampires, thats hard. Tellin ehm They just got vamped, when they don't even believe in the damn things? That nobel class shit. The dynamite, not the wussy no credit peace prize.

Ya know who got a peace prize? Yasser Arafat. Who gives a shit if a Prez get it? That fucker got a peace prize for Blowing Up People. Aparently the guys who hand ehm out misread it as "Pieces" an thought it was referin to the pieces left over from Yassy blowing shit up.

What was I doin? Oh yeah, talkin to the new bitch...who's lookin a bit green around the gills from the turning...yeah I can remember when that happened to me...upchucked my applesauce for a fuckin week...Course it'd have helped if Dita had mentioned i couldn't eat it no more....but She's a bit absent minded bout it. Just like a Mom, eh? I could go for some apple sauce. Might pick some up on the way home. Vampirism makes bolemics out of us all.

Anyway yeah, the chick....what ta do...the obvious method is just smackin her over the head with the bat, tying her up, and tossin her in the cab for a drive back to the prince....Or just increasin the hit count with the bat up to 30 or so and leavin her to vape in the morning. I'm kinda partial to the first one though. Hot chick brujah we need more of. Too many hairy canadians at the moment.

So....Splainin to do...lets see, how best to put this. Delicate. Real delicate. Don't want to upset the lady after all. Gotta put it on the down low, let her ease into it. Careful like.

"Well, yer dead now."

Smooth.

"But on the bright side, you're also an undead blood suckin fiend who feeds on the living to give herself sustenence. Don't worry, that part is kinda awesome. Anyways, since your dipshit sire doesn't appear to have stuck around to give you the rundown on that, I either gotta beat in your skull with a baseball bat, or deliver you to my boss and let her explain shit...Cause I'm basicly the dog catcher, and yer a stray, and you either come with me..."

At this I reach into a pocket, pulling out the desert eagle and caukin it for her, grinning as I give it a moments loving attention.

"Or you go in the dumpster with a double tap to the head....and yeah, that will kill you. Braindead is dead, vampire or no. The bright side is a girl as hot as you I'd rather Not be killing....so you've actually got a choice. The gun...or breakfast, and a meeting with my boss."

Stowing the Eagle with a twirl, I reach into my coat pocket and extract a Code Red bottle with a nice quantity of bum blood in it, twirling the top off and taking a whiff of it before offering it to her, enjoyin the overtones of whisky in the blood. This is some good shit. Need ta remember to thank Lyod for the donation later on...assumin I left him alive. Hard to remember sometimes.

[Kiera]

Really!? What the fuck is wrong with this asshole anyway? She could have sworn he just tried to tell her she was dead. Really dead, but not. He was telling her she was a vampire.

"You're fucking kidding. You escaped from some kind of asylum and now you're just out fucking with people fir shits and giggles, right?"

Kiera found herself sincerely hoping he was just fucking nuts. He looked fucking nuts. His skin was flaking off . . sorta- and that was gross, and his clothes looked like they hadn't been washed . . . ever . . . and he was carrying a got damned desert eagle. A desert eagle!


But her stomach said something was up, and the taste of her own blood was enough to set it to really fighting. She looked at the Code Red bottle with complete disgust, battling between running off and playing along, but the battle ended abruptly when he screwed off the cap. She could smell that shit all the way over wehre she was. Granted, she wasn't THAT far from him, but she'd never realized that blood could smell like . . .that.

"You're fucking kidding . . ." This time the words didn't hold as much malice, or disbelief, just disgust. The roiling in her stomach kicked up a notch, like a pound of rocks was turning and beating her insides. Sharp, pointy rocks.

With something akin to a growl of frustration she lurched forward, letting go of her usual pretense of sexiness, and grabbed the bottle and - against every intelligent thought in her head, she drank.

At first she thought she might puke, if not from the taste then from the knowledge that she was downing someone else's blood, but after a few seconds she felt something inside of her relax. It was like every muscle in her body knew that this was what she needed, and the tension that had been eating at her since she woke up was slowly letting go. She could taste the whiskey in the blood, and she thought that maybe that made it just a little easier to ingest, a little more familiar.

She even closed her eyes as the last of it slid down her throat, and she thrust the bottle back out to the freak.

The roiling had stopped, the pain had eased, and she was less than happy to say that she felt about a million bucks better. Her migraine was cutting back already, if not slowly, and she felt a little steadier on her feet. Even the street had stopped moving.

She stood awkwardly for a moment, then, putting her usual game face back on- that screwed up look that just screamed juvenile miscreant.

"So, what the fuck does this mean, there are fuckins zombies and witches too? And who the hell's your boss, I'm not really into the whole being told what to do shit."

[Wade]

See, thats what the pay me the big bucks for. Just about any fuckin idiot with a gun can axe a noob vamp and have the job done, but it takes a certain ammount of Art to get the chick on your side without needin to waste a single round. Really, the fops ought to be filmin me and comaing over the footage. I'm just that awesome.

After she's done downing the booze infused blood...and hopefully mellowing a bit as a result, she starts popping an attitude, even as she obviously buys what I'm selling now. Goodo.

Course that doesn't excuse a lame question for what it is. Seriously, she just found out there are fuckin Vampires in the world and she's worried about the cast of Charmed and Dawn of the Dead rejects? I mean C'mon....

Still, I guess we all deal with shit our own way. Important thing is to get her to the prince and let HER deal with the hot chick. Me, I got a poker game to attend, and this kinda shit takes too long to work out.

"Tell ya what, hows about I bring you to my boss, and she can run ya over the whole world of darkness spookfest kinda shit. I ain't really into this for the tour guide bit. Roxie is prince of the city, she'll be able to answer everything you want to know, and maybe even give ya someone to help ya get adjusted. Not my area of expertise. I'm more on the 'fill body bags' side of things."

Or Roxie might have me fill a body bag with Her...that'd be a waste of flesh though. Sure theres a couple of Brujah who'd be happy to take in a stray. Sheriff is always lookin for fun I know...Of course there is one thing I can do that might help...

Putting the now empty bottle back in my pocket, I dig around the others until I come out with a business lookin card. Just a little thing I had done up at Kinkos the other night...Real nice girl working there...tasty too. Figured this would come in handy with this kinda shit.

I pass it along to her, and then just my finger back down the alleyway, towards where my car is parked.

"Read all the shit that has written on it, an memorize it. Prince'll ask you about those. You ain't got ehm Solid in your head, you'll be ash by morning, and my evenin will be shot to hell too."

I don't bother checkin to see if she's followin me. I can hear it well enough from the level of noise she makes. Still moves like a human. Instead I make a beeline for the cab on the corner, openin the back passenger door for her, holdin it like a gentleman.

One of the newer mods I did to this baby was makin the passenger area more convient for food on the go. No handles on the inside, no way out unless I open it for them. Good luck breakin the safety glass either. Shits bullet proof. Nice deal on it too.

And even more awesome theres a fur coat on the left seat. Little bit of blood on it, but fairly intact. Need ta remember to pawn that later. Keep forgettin...

"Your chariot awaits Hawtness. Get in, an I'll get you there in 15 minutes of the ride is free. You can help yourself to the coat if you want too."

[Kiera]

Kiera rolls her eyes and takes the card, half tempted to flip it on the ground and stomp on it. Only a last minute round of curiosity and some unusual sense of self preservation keep the rectangular piece of paper in her hand as she follows him.

"You know, I'm not big on reading."

As she moves past him to get into the car she brushed against him. Old habits die hard, apparently harder than her. She looked up at him as she slid into the seat, but it's almost a passing glance, only lasting as long as it takes her to pull her long, perfect legs into the car with her.. When you've been taught to put yourself on display as long as she has, you can't just shut it off, even when you might be in shock, or hallucinating. She hadn't decided which was the more likely product of the night, but she wasn't ruling either out.

She waited for the door to shut before she looked over at the coat. She wrinkled her nose at the blood at first, but reached over and pulled it against her anyway. It felt good, and really, the smell of blood wasn't that bad. She kind of liked it. That gave her the creeps. Sne definitely hoped she was hallucinating.

As she pulled the coat around her, successfully holding in the last of her fading body heat, she stretched out on the bench-like seat, rolling onto her back and holding the card above her. It was surprisingly easy to read in the dark, and she did her best not to notice.

She started muttering to herself as she read, putting the list of what were apparently the law of the land into Kiera terms.

"Don't tell anyone that you are a freak- right, like they'd believe me anyway." She marked that one down as good and clear.

"Blah Blah Domain blah . . . respect . . . " okay that might be an issue.

"Don't make any more freaks unless the boss freak tells you it's okay." Ew. "Like I'd want to."

"If you happen to make another freak take care of it. Or else." She rolled her eyes, finding it terribly irrelevant since she had no plans to turn anyone else into a vampire . . . ever. "Daddy must not have gotten that memo."

"If you happen to go on vacation, make sure that you tell the dictator in power you're there. Big Brother much?" Not that she planned on traveling much.

"And last, but certainly not least, don't kill any other freaks." She sighed dramatically, as if someone had just killed her spring vacation plans, "Gee-really? I thought it was open season."

She dropped the card on her flat stomach and looked at the back of the driver's seat, "Is it just me or do all of these end in 'or you die'?"

[Wade]

Boy I tell ya, its been a fuckin hell of a long time since I got a semi willing chick to get into my car knowing what I look like. Kinda fuckin weird really. Still, she gives me a nice view as she gets settle, and I have to grin at the assets she has on display. Moves like that, she's gotta have been some sorta workin girl in life. Not a surprisin move for whatever Rabble dumbass made her. Brujah tend to think with their fangs first and their johnson's second, at least as concerns prospects.

Still...theres something about her that I like. A bit beyond the usual shit with strays. She ain't stunned out of her gourd, she ain't claiming whats happenin aint happenin, she ain't even tryin to bargain with me for sex in exchange for lettin her go. That says alot. She's got balls for a hooker, and thats something the prince'll probably like.

Not that I can make any speculations about what the prince'll do....Just depends on if she's feelin homicidal tonight...

Storin that kinda useless shit in the back of my brain, I get myself comfy and take off in the car, stampin the gas to the floor as we take the city about as fast as I wanna go, answering her quesiton as I do so, not botherin to hide my amusement at her interpretation of the rules, or the question itself. Straight up Brujah thinkin.

"Well yeah, what do you think keeps me in business? Ain't cause of my world class looks, I'll tell ya that."

It ain't really that far from the slums where she was to the prince's buildin, and I'm pulled curbside within ten minutes tops. Notin as I do that some kind soul fed the meter to boot....not that I'd pay it anyway. Ain't had to kill a meter maid in ages, but that don't mean I ain't willing.

I pull open the curbside door for her, holdin it like a gentleman before I escort her in, makin the usual beeline through the usual staff and shit. Ghouls runnin the front desk got enough brains between them not to put a stop on me when I'm working, and a couple got some nice scars for the attempt. Nothing permanent though, ain't right to break the Prince's property.

I lead her onto the main elevator and take that up to the level where Roxie generally holds her newbie orientations, leadin the kid though that rigamarole, and telling the prince's body guards whats up. They let me in with only a couple of cross looks, knowin better than to search me or give me shit. Not when I'm bringin in new blood. audience with the prince is Required for that kinda shit, yo?

Anyway, that all leaves us standin in one of the better meeting rooms the prince has got for audiences, done up kinda like an art gallery, only without the art. Rox ain't one for collectin paintings that I've seen. Instead its just a blank gallery, perfectly sized for duels and meetings, but with a more utilitarian feel than the Finely appointed one she uses for important peeps. Floor is tiled, handy if she doesn't want to keep the stray. Wouldn't want to stain the Prince's carpet, ya know. While we wait I turn back to the kid, takin the card back from her and stowin it in my coat again, oddly prompted to give advice.

"Okay, when the prince shows give her respect, no shit. Answer her questions like the card says, and try not to fuck any shit up. She Will have you murdered right here if ya do. That'd be an aweful waste of hawtness, ya ask me."

When the Prince does actually show, I give her a bit of a bow, feelin unusually respectful before I start in, relayin the facts as best I can.

"Hiya Boss, we gotta stop meetin this way...anyways, I was doin some good service checkin into one fo the Brujah raves, an came across this stray," at this I Vanna White the new chick, showin off her hawtness.

"She got vamped by some deadbeat Brujah who was probably drunk or some such shit at the time. No sign of him on the premisies...I'll be trackin him down next though, rest assured. Know you like ta have everybody playin fair with sirin. ...anyways this kid seemed pretty ballsy for a newb, and generally struck me as slightly less pathetic than average. Figured you might just want to keep her around or somethin. I gave her the basics on the rules, but I figured I'd let you lay out the detail work. Peeps start gettin confused when I do it...funny that."

I grin at the last, amused at the tendency of neonates to run like hell the other direciton when I start talkin to them. Smart policy that don't work worth a fuck. Movin target is just more fun to shoot.

"Anyways, I got a deadbeat dad to beat to death. I'm bettin one of the brujah who threw the party'll know who it was. Couple of broken fingers and I should be on the right path. I might even ask nice first."

I give her another grin, chucklin at my amusement. She knows better than most that when I ask nice, is when you Really need to be runnin the other way. Thats what she pays me for. Not playin taxi service to the odd stray. And by Cain I Do love my job.

"Still if you don't want to keep her, I can toss the stray in the river or something. Maybe take her to the pound? I'm sure Ivan'd get a kick of some fresh blood..."

I let the last bit trail off, lettin the prince decide for herself what she wants to do with her. Hawtness or no, it ain't my job to play cheerleader for a stray. I'm just the delivery boy.