Is this what Appomattox looked like? He's never been here before. He's heard of Lee's defeat, but this was odd indeed. There are people everywhere, but not just soldiers. Not many soldiers at all, just him. He notices that he has on a Union uniform suddenly. He is union? No, that's not right. Someone taps his shoulder. It is Kasiel, also in a Union uniform. He shakes his head. There are people all over. People having a good time. Celebrating the end of the war, perhaps? No, he sees a confederate among the crowd. This must be the end. The confederate is in chains. What is this music? Why is there music playing? Where is it coming from? He's running at full speed though, and his hands are red. Red hands... he chases the confederate. He must know. Who's that little girl, and why is she staring at him. She smiles at him. Why? Did she not see the confederate? No, she had. He saw her look at him. She is hurt- he tries to get her help, but the confederate is on his mind. He has to follow him. Where is he going, this confederate, and why are his hands red? Who is she? He looks at the sky as if asking a question. The sky is blood red, thick and dark. He marvels for only a moment and grabs Kasiel as he rushes away. There will be time to think on all this later. He needs answers. He runs a long while. Then he is in a building, a large chamber. There are chains hanging from the walls, nooses for union soldiers. The room is macabre, it is sick. He feels like vomiting. He is arguing. There is noise, fighting. He is blind. He's been blind since Dallas, though. Or has he? He concentrates, and sees three confederates with bloody hands, three chained soldiers. They look confused, angry, and vengeful. What is it all? The blood. Shaking his head, he clears it. Sees things as they truly are. He stands, not alone, against these three and more. But who? Who is the confederate with the blank face, the bloodiest hands? The end of this cycle. The finale. But how did he know? He knows. This would be the end. The taste of blood is in his mouth, his flesh burns, he knows only his own sensations for a minute. Then he stands in a long hall. He is holding a little girl, helping her bandage her cuts. She's been hurt. She is so brave, though. The chains fall in the room behind him. He smiles.
Susan was having the time of her life. Everyone around her was happy and having a good time. She just wished that she wasn't here alone. She guessed it was her job that kept her so secluded. She was a servant in the household of an upper middle-class Atlanta family. Not very glamorous and they weren't rich enough to pay her much. She hated the hard work but it was a living, and the only living she knew.
She walked the promenade at Centennial Olympic Park, letting thoughts about her work drift away to the melody of the band playing now. She smiled and sauntered a little closer to the pavilion where the band was playing. There were people everywhere. There was joy everywhere. Almost 200 countries were meeting here for friendly competition. It marked a cultural milestone for the planet. Citizens of several different countries roamed here or there, moving to the music and cheering. They were all equal here, having a good time.
The explosion rocked her back into reality. Pain rippled through her arm as she hit the ground, and she clutched at it instinctively while crying out in anguish. She felt no burns from the explosion, but there was something in her arm. She forced herself to look. She stared, enthralled, at the three nails stuck into her flesh. She could see the heads of two of them, and the point of another. The point was coming out the other side of her limb. She climbed to her knees in pain as a form ran past her. She followed its movements, focusing to ignore the pain in her arm.
He was fairly tall and looked unharmed by the blast, as he was running at full speed. He was wearing jeans and a leather biker jacket. His long hair flew behind him as he ran. He paused to look back at her. But he looked past her. His gaze was focused on something behind her. He turned and ran again as she swung her head around.
Susan saw another man walking out of the chaos calmly. He had a look of aristocracy about him, and was scanning the horizon for something, or someone. He wore an eye-patch over his right eye. In his left hand he held a cane. His gaze was intense and severe, and Susan got the feeling he was judgement and authority.
Susan knew what he was looking for. His eye fell upon her, and she pointed behind herself, in the direction of the other. He smiled, but there was no joy in his expression, only satisfaction. He took a long look at her, and saw her wounds as he walked past her. He nodded his thanks to her and ran past her, yelling in a thick southern drawl.
"This woman needs medical attention! Get her some help! Help this woman!"
Susan did something against her better judgement, and decided to follow him. The man with the eye-patch ran on, and was joined by another man, both running faster than she ever could. She kept a close eye on them, however, and through the pain in her arm she studied the newcomer. He was an enigma. He carried a staff of some sort, and was cloaked entirely by a long black robe. All she could sense was that he was very large, perhaps six and a half feet tall, and sturdy.
The odd pair ran through Centennial Olympic Park and out of it. They continued for a long time, and Susan realized that she had been running forever. She wondered what was so important, and who these men were. Did they work for the government? Why was one in a robe then? Who was the punk in the jacket? Was he responsible for this?
Her arm throbbed. God did it hurt! She gritted her teeth through the sensation and kept going. They were well out of the park now, and the two ran into a building. She felt her eyes go blurry for a second, but as they cleared she saw a school. They had gone into a school. Shouldn't the doors of a school be locked by now? Why was she following these two strangers? She just kept moving.
She entered the doors and heard yelling. Someone was shouting.
"What?! You did it even though the archon was there?! Idiot!"
Susan heard a crunching noise, followed by a wet thump and a scream. She tried to figure out what they were and couldn't clear her head enough to think. Her vision was getting blurry again. Perhaps she had a concussion. She was fighting for consciousness. No! She would not be a slave to this pain! She would fight through it. She steeled herself against it, and with her will forced the pain away. Susan moved towards the voices, which were now speaking low enough that she couldn't hear them.
She saw her two mysterious strangers crouched low and watching some scene unfold before them. They were looking through the glass windows on the doors to the gym. That must be where the yelling was from.
"He was a fool!" a woman's voice shouted. "Let Derrick's example be a lesson to you all! When he heals he will realize what it means to endanger me!"
The odd pair stood up from where they crouched, conversing quietly. They entered the gym confidently. Susan crawled up to where they had been. She crouched and looked through the glass, thankful that the other door was propped open so that she could hear clearly. Her eyes were still hazy.
"Poor Derrick," the man in the eye-patch drawled. "Looks like it'll be awhile before he sees again."
"Ah, the archon." The woman said. Susan got a good look at her for the first time. She was dark-skinned, but not black. She looked Spanish or maybe something more exotic. Susan couldn't quite put her finger on it. The woman looked tense now, anticipating something from the strange pair. The big man in the robe pulled down his hood, revealing his head. He was black, and Susan could see a scar at the base of his neck. It looked to have been placed there by a whip.
There were others in the room. Another pair of punks in leather jackets, one was bald and pierced and the other had dark dyed-red hair cut close to his head. No one spoke or moved for a long moment. Everyone seemed to be waiting.
"Let's talk about this, darlin'." The man with the eye-patch said. "Why did you do this, to what purpose?"
"To unyoke from the masses the harness of the Camarilla. The young Kindred are just plow-horses to the old. There is no justice in this system, the elders among the system just want more subjects to rule over." She replied mechanically.
"The Traditions were passed from Caine. We merely follow the ancient laws of the father of our kind. There is no..."
"You lie! Caine did not pass on any rules to govern us by! They were created to keep the childer in line, so that there would be no more revolts. The second city was enough lesson for the antediluvians to force laws that seemed to be Caine's."
"I suppose you can believe what you like. But the truth remains that this place is a Camarilla domain. You will follow our laws and be subject to them while you are here. You have transgressed those laws. I see that it wasn't you out there setting off nail-bombs in the Park, but one of your subjects. Were you scared? Are you�"
"You will see nothing if I have a say about it! I will rip your remaining eye out and crush it beneath my heel. Your friend will suffer the same fate as you, archon."
"The name is Reginald, and my associate, Kasiel, is an archon as well."
The two punks pulled out weapons, the bald one wielding a chain and the other unholstering a pistol. Susan shook her head, realizing what was about to happen. But what were they talking about? Who were they? What was going on? She was confused but kept up her hazy vigil nonetheless. She tempered herself at the edge of consciousness, realizing that the scene unfolding wasn't fantasy but reality. Her disbelief only mounted.
The black man dropped into a defensive crouch with his staff. He looked to be ready for anything. The man with the eye-patch was mumbling something and he was all tense. Susan couldn't see what he was doing with his cane, but it looked longer now than it had been a second ago. The end dropped off of it and a sword arose in front of the man. It was coated in blood. The blade looked old but well-made and very sharp. The blood disappeared suddenly in a flash of blue flame. The flame coated the blade entirely, and Susan couldn't figure out what fueled it.
She gasped. What was this? Magic? There was just no explanation for it all. She watched, enthralled, as the scene heated up like the blade of that sword. Was the man in the eye-patch smiling? Did she see him smirk for a second over his shoulder?
Everyone but the woman started moving at once, but they were moving faster than Susan had ever seen anyone move. The man in the eye-patch cut the bald punk's legs out from under him in a swift motion, even as the chain wrapped around his head, covering his good eye. The sharp steel sliced through the punk's knee, ripping through and burning the bottom half of his leg off. The black man was a whirlwind of motion. He thrust his staff into the redhead's face before he could get a shot off. The punk dropped to the floor with most of his face caved in. Susan doubted he would ever see again.
The punk crumpled near the door that Susan had identified as Derrick started stumbling towards the door. Susan wanted to run, but she couldn't stop watching what was happening. The man in the eye-patch, still blinded by the chain, tossed his blade in a spinning arc. The blue-flame along the blade made it a beautiful sight. Just then the woman made a gesture at him and he screamed and dropped to the ground, rolling. His flesh looked to be burning. The man in the robes swung his staff at the bald man, crushing his skull deftly.
The black man was quicker than anyone else was. Before the blade in the air had gone through a second spin and started falling to the floor, he caught it in his hand. Susan never saw him let go of the staff, but sure enough it was falling to the floor. The black man sliced at the woman and cut her deeply, the blue flame burning through the wound. The tempered steel seemed unaffected by the fire's burning, and Susan saw the blade flash in the bright light of the gym impossibly fast. The dark woman screamed in pain.
The black man cut her again, and then the flame went out. She had two deep burnt slashes in her body and he stabbed her repeatedly even after she had fallen to the floor.
"Reginald?" the man in black asked.
"Yes?" the man in the eye patch said as he got up slowly, looking towards Susan. He moved like lightning suddenly, leaping towards her. He landed on Derrick, and fell on top of him as he came through the door. Susan jumped up and stared at the two. Derrick and Reginald were their names. Human names. They were people after all. Then she saw Derrick's face. His face had been crushed and one of his eyes was gone. She screamed.
"What the�!?" the black man said from inside the gym.
Reginald shook his head and pummeled Derrick. Then he got up and walked over towards her.
"Be quiet." He said. Susan shut up and didn't say a word. She realized with horror that she couldn't speak! She just couldn't force her mouth and tongue to move and work and�
"Thank you", he said "now stay there until we're done inside, I'd like to speak with you for a while."
Susan didn't know why, but she nodded.
"Thank you Kasiel. Let's get down to brass tacks, or wooden stakes, as the case may be." Reginald said as he re-entered the gym and snapped open a cell-phone.
"Yes, Rake? I'm going to need you to come to Jackson High School. The front door is unlocked and the anarchs are here. Yes, they're subdued. I think that this is all of them. I'm not sure. Be here to find out."
Susan heard shuffling in the room and thumping noises. The two archons began to speak.
"They were all bound to her. Practice what you preach. She's a Ravnos. Too bad for her she's not strong enough to withstand me. I'll wait until Rake gets here." Reginald said.
"A Ravnos? Here in Atlanta? Why? What did she really hope to accomplish?" Kasiel replied.
"I'm not sure, though she apparently was afraid of us. Her fear was not misplaced. Thank you for coming Kasiel. I couldn't have helped the city I love alone tonight. I appreciate it."
"It's no problem. I asked the Justicar specifically to assign me as your backup. It was just something that needed to be done. It was good to work with you again. It's been too long, Reginald."
"That it has. The years pass sometimes and I don't realize it. The rest are all Brujah. Derrick is Rake's childe. I guess Rake needs to keep a tighter leash on his progeny."
"They fought like young Brujah. What did she do to you?"
"She set me on fire, using a power that affects the mind. She created an illusion of fire that was real enough to burn me. It still stings a little. I managed to fight her off mentally before it caused me serious harm."
"Illusions? But she fears shadows. The enemy for her is as unseen as the night wind. She used that which she feared to spread havoc among the Kindred here. What was her gain, and was she so blind as to not see her own hypocrisy?"
"I'm not sure, Kasiel. But I know where she's going to end up."
Just then Reginald re-emerged from the gym.
"I'll be back in a second, Kasiel.
"I need to get you some help, little one. You need some medical attention."
Reginald pulled Derrick's arm towards her and waved for her to come to it. Susan approached, obeying without question. His force of will was impossible to deny when he looked into her eyes.
"Now close your eyes, little one. This might hurt."
Susan felt shots of pain run from her arm to her brain, but she suppressed the urge to scream.
"You're very brave. You do know that, don't you?"
Susan nodded unconsciously. Her eyes were shut tight. She could still see red, though. There was something warm on her lips.
"Drink, lady, drink."
Susan did as she was told. The taste was coppery and she didn't want to drink more, but her arm was starting to feel better. She drank much of the liquid offered her. Reginald was wiping off her chin. Her arm felt fine. She felt fine.
"Now open your eyes."
She did, and her vision was clear. She looked down and saw blood all over Derrick's arm, and blood on her shirt, and a fresh cut where the blood was being drained�to her lips. She had been drinking blood. Then she noticed the wooden stake stuck through Derrick's chest. Then she saw nothing but Reginald.
His eye was staring deeper into hers than she thought possible. Her mind swam as he asked her questions and got answers, and she told him everything he asked. After the questioning he arose and helped her to her feet.
"The Prince will be coming soon. I can't have you here when he gets here; he'd be upset at me. I like you Susan. I like your attitude. Your will is strong. You will go to the August Belle first thing in the morning and ask for Sheryl. That's my old plantation. I haven't run the place in a few years but my descendents do. She'll help you out. You can forget about your job, you will be headed towards a new life now.
"Things will change, Susan, but now you will know what is really happening. You will know who runs the show and you will be a part of the big picture."
Reginald sighed. Then cleaned her up better and gave her a leather jacket to wear. He led her outside and called a cab for her.
"Go to the August Belle tomorrow night at eight. Be there, Susan, for me."
Susan got into the cab and sat down. The ride was smooth, soothing. She looked at her arm. There were no marks on it whatsoever. Her mind was clear, the pain gone. She would do as Reginald asked. She wanted this. Her life was boring; she needed something to drive her, something special. But now, she thought, I'll go home and sleep.