Vampire: The Masquerade IC (Don't forget your hat!)

The old ones are rising. Caine, his childer and his grandchilder. Your goal is to FIGHT your way into staying alive; make sure he doesn't rise, and if you can't handle that make sure you're prepared to kill him.
Rule for death: Normal weapons CAN kill you, blades do more damage than guns, but you will eventually die. Sunlight (direct) will instantly kill you, fire does high damage as does electricity, a stake to the heart will paralyze you completely. Upon death, your form literally spontaneously combusts; or more appropriately turns to ashes after burning. This is called the "Final Death".

Victor Bonadetti; born and raised in the beautiful city of Florence. On the outside he was another 25 year-old enjoying himself at a high class bar; Internally, he was around 60 years old. He played his cards right up to this point. Kissed ass where it should've been, beat the fuck out of punks as it was called for. Now he was in good standings with the Giovanni family; even invited to give the Proxy Kiss to some new member of the family to be accepted. But there was no point anymore. He had been here, drinking, for the last three hours; these uptight broads bored him out of his fuckin' skull and he knew it.

He got up and walked outside, to his Saturn 2007, sitting on the hood as he smoked a cigarette. The night was young. Maybe tonight, he'd find someone to fuck around with. Maybe he'd buy a business. All that was certain were his two fangs, his cigarette, and his money.

"'Cause this is thriller, thriller night!'" A wild air-kick as she made her way down the path caused an elderly couple to shuffle that much faster on the other side of the road. Taking the pause in her iPod Touch's playlist, she adjusted her hair tie. Releasing her hair from the frayed string she used to keep it in a ponytail, she livened it up before re-tying the tail and clearing wisps of hair from her face.

In just a few minutes, she was snoozing on the crook of her arm in the 4 Beans Cafe, the third empty cup of hot chocolate sitting in front of her. She was still debating whether to order food or not when the waitress woke her from her brief slumber. Tossed salad and scrambled egg. She groaned as the waitress walked away, the catchy song from that show about psychologists briefly escaping her mouth.

"Great, now everyone will think I'm trying to go on a diet..." She slumped into sleep again, wishing her problems would just vanish. It had been less than an hour since her feed, already she was feeling the low side of the extraction of blood.

He stood up and got into his car preparing to search for company; the Giovanni had quite the lovely Kiss. A single bite didn't cause ecstasy like it would with any other clan, oh no. It'd make it PAINFUL. T'was their curse, of course, and he dealt with it. Vic drove up to a cafe and parked the car. Been awhile since he had coffee. Not that it mattered. He turned off his car, and got up walking through. When inside he spoke, rather loudly.

"Okay stronzo, get this straight, I want my coffee black; none of this additive crap you types are so used to. Don't fuck with me, I'm with the Bonadetti.."

His name held SOME weight, even in a fuck all nowhere place like this. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed someone; red hair? Well, this WAS a fucked up city...

She opened her eyes as the salad bowl was placed down in front of her. A silent groan escaped her. Taking her purse from the pocket of her jacket, she promptly paid the waitress and continued to stare at the meal. It took a few moments for her to notice a similar presence.

"Giovanni... This is my hangout, I figured you lot were too good for the downtown." Using a fork to trail around the plate of egg, she didn't dare to make eye contact. Pulling out her iPod, she turned the volume down just slightly to demonstrate her unwillingness to listen.

He clenched his teeth at her voice and grabbed his cup, sliding across from her. He glared at her and mumbled, the sound of poison on his words after taking a sip.

"I'm sorry Torrie, but isn't your precious Masquerade what keeps you pretty-boys from dying? As I recall the rules say you're not allowed to REVEAL OUR PRESENCE. And don't try using that pathetic thing you call charisma on me."

He slammed his ringed hand onto the table and glared into her eyes.

She slid the egg towards him, sitting up straighter. "Oh please, there's barely anyone here, chances are they'd assume you're from the Mafia. I did you a favour." She ran her nail along the table, tracing out the red marble patterns.

"Am I in trouble or something? I have to be really careful y'know, getting kicked out of my own group set me straight. I play by the rules, make sacrifices, do my time, like everyone else. Don't start beating me with that patronising tone."

Twitch walked around aimlessly. Damn. Almost all night there was no traffic. No way in hell was he going in a club; his butterfly knife would get him kicked out in a heartbeat. He strolled, bored and zoned out. This was frustrating. He sopped in front of a cafe. "WHY IS THIS FUCKING TOWN SO DESERTED?"

He looked at her. Then began checking her out; sure this'd be nothing but unilke this blank staring Torries he had an admiration for beauty. Hers was strange; punk red hair like an 80's chick; this girl couldn't be walking the night for more than what her apparent age was. Fucking fledglings.

"Yeah well lucky you WE don't give a fuck about your little rules otherwise I'd have turned you in. What're you Torries doing around here, huh? I thought Downtown wasn't fancy enough for your lazy asses!"

Her eyes rolled as she slouched. "Excuse me for having a taste for Michael Jackson. At least I can have a good time without killing half the people in the room." She followed the path of his eyes discretely. Checking her out? Either he was desperate or just plain stupid. Her lips tightened as she sat up again.

"You can just ask to see the scars I had dug into me by some pathetic tattooist. No big secret and all." She turned up the volume much louder, intending to drown out his insults and other things she didn't want to hear.

A man walked up to ask for directions or some stupid shit like that. He opened the knife in his pocket. "Hey, do you know where-"Shwick. Dead. That easy. When had he last fed? A week ago. He needed to hurry; people may have noticed. He pulled down his bandana and bared his teeth...

"How old are you. Really. How long've you been.. y'know? You obviously must be a young'un to have such a love for the King of Pop. I personally love Billy Jean and Thriller; what's your beef with us huh? Someone sell you some bad blood?"

He chuckled. True, vampires DID buy blood from clinics if they found the right people. And they also had their personal bloodbags, but he noticed her hand twitch so he figured she was just ignoring him. He gave up halfway and noticed shouting.

Shit. Shitshitshitshitshit. A patron was looking out f the window. Fight or flight.... Considering police, flight. He pulled up his bandana and left the body there to bleed. He began to sprint. Sprinting as fast as he could. Had to get away.

She winced slightly as he asked more about her. Ignoring him was probably a bad idea, given he had a clan to use, and she, well... had her hair. Turning off the iPod, she yanked the earbuds out and stuffed the lot into her pocket.

"Ninth. Got one look at them filming for Thriller and became hooked. You look older yourself." She leaned back, stretching her body briefly. Her muscles worked back into their ready position as she sat properly once more.

"I look like I did when I spiritually died fifty years ago, thank you. At the beautiful age of 25 mind you! I didn't ask you of your generation either. That caine shit's a load.. So, your actual age'd be what? 30? 40? You might not look like an old hag but still.."

He shrugged and put his hand on hers in a flirtarious manner. This was one of his favourite games; let's piss off the 'OH I'M SO GORGEOUS' pricks by flirting with them.

Her eyes narrowed into a glare. "I got done in at 23. Excuse me if I look much older." She stood up, looking around for the chance to dump the food. It came as the waitress made her way to the front counter. Racing for the nearest bin, she dumped the food and replaced the trays in front of her, chewing on a lettuce leaf to keep up the illusion.

"Don't ask, really."

He stood and walked up behind her, putting his hands on her sides; this would probably get him attacked. Lucky him, he was a Giovanni rather poor at necromancy but excellent at potence and decent at dominance. He leaned in and grinned, putting his teeth to her neck. He breathed out slowly.

"You know Torrie, it's not safe to be round one of us... We've got a lot of skeletons in our closet.."

She shuddered as he placed his hands on her hips. A deep breath in as he leaned closer. Neck twitch as his teeth approached. For once she wished she was a thin-blood, unfortunate wretches. At least they were less noticeable, the equivalent of a house fly in a zoo. No-one's concern.

"It's Kataryna that I prefer to be called. Now, unless you actually have something serious in mind, I suggest you make yourself a little less inconspicuous."

He watched her reaction; typical flip out. This was fun; real fun. Her name threw him off though. Something Russian, or any other kind of Slavic/Cyrllic. He spoke loudly, slowly getting on one knee. Time for the grande finale to both make him look inconspicuous AND piss her off beyond belief.

"Kataryna, I can't help it anymore! I'm in love with you! Please marry me!"

Staring down at him, she merely chewed her lip as she debated the best way to deal with him. "Really..." Reaching her hand towards him, she slowly slipped into his shirt. "Well, how's this for an answer..." Digging her nails in, she raked her hand back out, foot kicking right into his chest to hopefully send him sliding under the table. Feeling her shoe connect, she turned and bolted, jumping up onto the table and crashing through the window onto the street. "Good luck finding me!" Not waiting any longer, she bolted for the nearest cover.

He felt the kick connect and laughed before standing up. Dumb woman. He didn't have auspex, true, but he was somewhat able of tracking a lone Toreador. He followed her out the window, minutes behind. He saw she hadn't gotten along pretty far; damn celerity.. He shouted out, in an attempt to get her to slow down.

"Okay boys, Kataryna there's decided to run! Capture her and bring her back to Giovanni manor!"

He was faking; hell it was a talent of his damn family. She was half right; the Giovanni were quite popular for being a crime family as well as a clan. But still, he wasn't going to let some two-bit Torry get the drop on him.

Ducking behind a dumpster, she paused to catch her breath. In the distance she picked up police sirens. Just great! No doubt the Giovanni was already hot on her tail. She just wasn't in the mood for a long chase. Not after the crummy night she was already having.

He clicked his heels and saw her jump for an alleyway. Walking in to avoid the police, he sniffed the air. He had to keep himself entertained; before he remembered she was an MJ fan. Damn if he hadn't memorized only one song. If only these Torries were passionate about art. Oh... Wait.. They were.

"Cuz this is Thriller..."

She clamped her hands across her ears. Damn he was clever. Just so long as she did her best to avoid drooling over the lyrics. No, it was still getting through, seeping into her mind. Why couldn't she just block it out and wait for him to leave. It was useless, standing up, she began storming away from him. "Alright! You got me, now what?"

"I'd LOVE to see your haven, actually. And you're going to be taking me or else.. Cuz y'see.. It's close to midnight, and something evil's lurking in the dark.."

He walked up to her as swiftly as he could; he'd have to leave his car behind but who gives a shit. He could explain he was trying to make a good bit of money for the family and that would be that. They'd love him; he'd be chosen for the next Proxy Kiss given. No problem.