Fantasy Hunter's Moon 20XX: By the Light of Neon Sigils

[K0mori]

CHAPTER I:
A TRAPPER AND A BUTCHER​

What is a "god?"

Of all those ancient concepts mortals cooked up over the years, there's probably none as asinine as the idea of the Almighty. Mortals, you see, love their structure and their patterns, predictability and reason. They love to be controlled. But the moment they assign this control to a singular personality - a master, if you will - they fear what they reap. That fear drives them to do all sorts of unsavory things; they steal, rape, and kill in the name of maintaining authority and keeping their desired place on the ladder. Ideally, they would find themselves with no master above except that which they've invented - a fiction and a contradiction: the God who is all-powerful, and utterly absent.

The world has been very sick since God became real. How many years has it been? It doesn't matter, and it never mattered. Sazak is eternal, invincible, and the embodiment of what mortals worship most: power. And all anyone can do is dance their little dance and hope He doesn't take too keen an interest in them, because God loves suffering and He's starving for entertainment.

It was a night sometime in the balmy days of late summer, when the rains falling from the starless sky leave the city streets in a cloud of steamy mist, when Franziska arrived at the Golden Millennium, a sprawling nexus of sin and glittering violence that splits the skyline in two with its vulgar, amber plate glass facade that reflects every spotlight and neon lamp in the metropolis of Eternis like a goddamned mirror. Everything she could ever want was in this building: drugs, sex, live entertainment, the most exotic and aromatic arrays of blood one could find outside the Abyss, and fuck-you money spilling out of the pockets of every pusher and pimp in it's hundred and thirty floors.

She was home.

It had been a few years. Old Tsavania was getting a bit too needy, too filthy for everyone's liking. There were too many mouths to feed, too many failed men and women who took to life's hard facts like they were standing on an oiled floor. And there wasn't enough mercy to go around. Her mercy, just like the Lord's, was as deadly as it was delectable, and so she moved about from city to city, along with all the other sanctioned killers, turning some, but killing most. Eventually, the numbers were thinned and the survivors were terrified. And Franziska was showered with cash to do it.

Damn, life was good. In Sazak's world, everything was better at the top of the food chain. Everything. And being a Karnstein meant Franziska was destined for that upper rung from the moment she got bit and fell in with Lilith's lot. Now that the party in Tsavania was over, she knew it wouldn't be long before the next order would come down, either from the top of the House, or from some edict from the church, and she would be off on her next spree. However it happened, Franziska was eager to keep it all going, to keep it fun, because she knew if she ever slipped and fell down the ladder, that life would stop making sense in the blink of an eye. But she wouldn't need to worry about that right now; right now, she had a message that someone was waiting for her in her suite.

The elevator whisked her to the upper floors, to the sprawling complex within the tower that all belonged entirely to Karnstein, and upon reaching it she breezed out, checking the expressions of the chromed out secretaries as they waved her in. Grim. Not what she was hoping for. Apparently, whoever passed through the gate ahead of her was someone of a high enough station that she would need to be on her toes. In through the door with a quick scan of her artificial retinas, she found a rare sight: a woman with a deeper, darker seat in Hell than she herself had eared.

"Bishop Fallensteller...?" Franziska said as she entered the dimly-lit living space. "This must be an important job if you came all this way to talk to me," she flattered herself.

The Bishop, relaxing on Franziska's chaise longue and drinking a steaming cup of tea that was so sweet that the vampire could smell it across the room, kept her fixed in her gold-tinted eyes - as bright and arresting as the Golden Millennium itself - until Franziska had been brought to a standstill in her own home. "Sit down already," Sabine demanded.

Franziska moved quickly, turning around a lounge chair so that it would face the Bishop before flopping into it, clearing her throat, licking her lips and nervously trying to brush away the pixie dust-like traces of drugs on her clothing from the car-ride over. There was no point in apologizing or making excuses; the Bishop didn't care about her personal presentation as long as she was paying full attention. She held herself to the same loose standards; Sabine's hair was an inky mop which had grown out of control, but which she seemed utterly disinterested in maintaining.

All the while as Franziska prepared herself, Sabine quietly sipped on her tea. At last, once the vampire was seated and the room was quiet aside from the hum of ventilation ducts, Sabine placed her empty cup in the middle of her porcelain tray and set it aside. "...there's an unauthorized vampiric house forming," she explained. "Some Ruthven scum are trying to call themselves House Devereaux. As per your covenant with God, I advise you to find them and kill them all, aside from their leader. The Church will pass judgement as she lives," she adds, coldly.

"Right..." Franziska replied, wringing her hands. "But why are you here, Frau Fallensteller? You could have told me this over the net, or sent a messenger."

A hint of a smile curled at Sabine's lip. "I want you to know that if you fail to complete this task, you'll join them in their fate. However," she said, waiting a moment in order to savor the vampire's reaction to the threat, "...this is a church matter, and so you'll have church resources at your disposal." She opened a menu on her holoband and sent a signal to the inquisitor who was waiting on the balcony, inviting her to come in and introduce herself.

 

[Infab]

An audible chirp sounded off in Hayley Walker's ear. It was a noise similar to a cricket, from out on the vast plains between the mega-cities that dotted Adonia's upper half. Normally, it would have been the signal for an incoming communications request. However, in this instance, it was a simple alert. The individual they had been waiting for had arrived, and her superior had requested her presence inside. Her blue eyes cut across the skyline one more time, taking in the massive towers and skyscrapers. Her eye paused only on one structure, that being the megatower that the God Emperor Himself resided in. Then, she straightened up and stepped away from the railing.

Her hands smoothed over the wrinkles in her black and red uniform, ridding it of creases as she turned about. An Inquisitor needed to look professional. Well kept. They were the right arm of the Eternal Church, blessed with His word and His authority when it came to dealing with heretics and others that would attempt to usurp His will.

The glass door slid out of the way as Hayley approached, moving into the wall and out of sight. Once she came through, it reappeared and sealed itself. She swept her messy blond hair back, attempting to make herself look presentable. She normally kept it short, but over the past few months, she had let it grow out a little. Something a bit different from the usual. She had also taken to ordering different foods here and there, or taken different routes when it came to patrols. Small changes, to break up the monotony of Inquisitorial life.

She wondered if her previous incarnations had done similar things. Nobody ever told her how the other clones had lived, only how they died. Usually, those ways were often violent and very messy. Such was the life of an Inquisitor.

As she entered the room, she took note of Franziska's appearance. It seemed to be a running thing with most Karnsteins. Despite being top dog among the Great Vampire Houses, they behaved more like your typical posh party goers. There was little in the form of refinement or grace... but why care when you were at the top? A snap of the fingers, and you could have whoever spoke ill of you killed. No one would ask questions, either. That was just the way things worked.

Hayley paused next to Sabine, folding her arms behind her as she stood at ease. "Inquisitor Hayley Walker. Reporting as instructed, ma'am." stated Hayley, in a near emotionless manner.

Simple procedure. Respect members of the Eternal Church. Remain calm, courteous, and professional in their presence. Greet others when greeted, or instructed to by said Church official.

As her Senior had told her once before, be a very dangerous statue. At least, until you needed to be something else even more dangerous.

 

[K0mori]

Franziska peered up at her without lifting her chin. The inquisitor was like a pillar of stone - dark, humorless, and imposing - and even if the vampire were to put on her tallest heels and stand as straight as she could, this "Hayley" would still be looking down at her. She had barely any time to consider the Bishop's threat before this thing stepped into her living space to glower at her, further cementing the gravity of the situation.

"You've worked with her kind before, so you understand the arrangement: the Inquisitor will accompany you and attend to tasks as you see fi," Sabine said, taking an e-cigarette out of her pocket and breathing in a bitter, coffee-scented vapor. "...Is there anything else you'll need, or have I made myself clear?" she asked pointedly as the mist billowed out around her.

Franziska shook her head. "No ma'am, crystal clear," she replied like a scolded dog.

Sabine stood and brushed her overgrown bangs out of her eyes with a placated sigh. "...Good. You have one week, Franziska. Auf Wiedersehen," she concluded before exiting the room with a smirk on her face. She had done all she needed to do to set the ball in motion, as she always did. The vampire sat in her recliner and chewed on her thoughts a bit more in silence until the Bishop had fully departed the room.

The Church was a botfly, propagating itself at the expense of its victims. It sought the weakest and most vulnerable and promised an eternal place within Sazak's earthly paradise, but it came at the expense of true salvation and ascension to Heaven. The smart ones would find their own way into His good graces, seeking a Kiss of the Night from a sanctioned order of vampires, or the chimerical curse...

The dumb ones would get one or the other as a punishment instead, and be trapped into an immortal life seeking a cure. The Church was keen to track who came willingly and who had to be dragged in, and the paradox of salvation was that only the most dedicated to God's plan would be released from their eternal life and any soul-bound curses which would prevent their entry to heaven, but of course, the most dedicated were also the most sinful.

Sabine Fallensteller, for example, could have had her curse lifted and died at any time she wanted, but it wouldn't have made a lick of difference. She was stuck down here like the rest of them, a servant evermore devout, and evermore damned.

Only a handful of lucky bastards managed to walk a razor thin line between serving the church willingly and serving it unwillingly - those fools who managed to be so uninteresting, so unnoticeable, that God himself failed to find a reason to trouble them, and they simply passed on without being noticed. It was rare times like these that Franziska wished she could trade all her diamond-studded luxuries for that anonymity, because now, she had only a week before the Bishop would cast her out of the favored flock - to suffer a fate worse than death in penance to the church.

"Inquisitor," Franziska said after a long silence, "tell me why the church hasn't rooted out this problem on its own."

 

[Infab]

"Inquisitor," Franziska said after a long silence, "tell me why the church hasn't rooted out this problem on its own."

"Well the reason, Lady Kalbfleisch, is that it was only recently brought to our attention." responded Hayley, stepping closer to Franziska. Her arms shifted in position, now folded in front of her instead of behind her. "The existence of this 'House Devereaux' was intended to be kept a secret by House Ruthven, as they were intending to deal with this new unauthorized house on their own terms. However, the cat was let out of the bag during an Inquisitorial raid last week. Two vampire hives, located in two different mass industrial sites. Gutter scum, of course. Non-aligned vampires in defiance of the Houses and the God Emperor's will. One of those hives had weapons and materials that were intended to be smuggled to associates of House Devereaux. Outdated weaponry, untraceable due to their filed-off serial numbers and lack of identification tags."

Hayley tilted her head slightly, as she continued. "High Inquisitor Thomas Thorne spoke with House Karnstein's representative, who spoke with House Ruthven's. Secrets were spilled. A few vampires were staked, beheaded, and burned. The Karnsteins advised that they would deal with things... which is where you come in."

Hayley then let her hands fall to her sides. "The Karnstein representative spoke to Bishop Fallensteller, and they suggested you. I was selected when Bishop Fallensteller spoke to High Inquisitor Thorne." She motioned to the space between them, with a gentle wave of her hand. "Now, we're here."

"So... in short, Ruthven failed to solve a large problem and it got back to us. Now its a Church matter, and we're starting from almost scratch."

Hayley smirks. "I say 'almost scratch' due to the fact that we know that they're looking to acquire shipments of firearms and other ordinance. We do a little digging, and figure out who's asking for this kind of stuff. We track them down, and go from there."

Hayley then pauses for a moment, before tilting her head forwards slightly. "Of course... that's if you wish to do that. You're in charge of this operation, after all, Lady Kalbfleisch. I'm simply a tool for you to utilize."

 

[K0mori]

Goddammit. The call's coming from inside the house, Franziska thought as she leaned back on her recliner, resting her head on the top of it while she studied the texture of the ceiling. To learn that she was named by her betters within House Karnstein was a minor relief, since it meant that the Church hadn't had any special reason to keep a close eye on her, but it was also a worrisome sign for her future. Either she had done a bit too well on previous assignments and earned some undue confidence, or she had accidentally made an enemy somewhere along the line who doesn't have any qualms playing with her soul. Somehow, she suspected the latter.

...Who the fuck did I piss off?

"Fine," she said, dramatically raising her arms before slapping them back down onto the armrests and lifting herself out of her seat. "First thing, Inquisitor, call me Franziska. I only take this 'Lady' stuff from concierges and prostitutes and seeing as you're neither the classy nor the kinky type, I think we can dispense with the formalities." She moved across her apartment to the refrigerator, which sensed her approach and illuminated from within, turning the otherwise opaque exterior translucent to reveal the contents within. As expected, it was mostly filled with racks of blood, along with a few bottles of mixers to add variety. As she put together a drink, she spoke about the investigation ahead.

"Old weapons are easy enough to find," she said. "The pawn shops are full of them. You just need the proper ID and enough money to walk out with one, and given that these were cockroaches, I doubt they had either. ...There's going to be someone involved with this Devereaux shit who's loaded, and they paid a dealer, or multiple dealers, enough money to move those guns without an ID check, or maybe they falsified it all," she theorized, taking a cold, soothing drink. "Obviously, if whoever was running those guns between the dealers and the hive were alive right now, you'd have already broken every bone they've got as many times as you needed to learn where they were coming from, but it sounds like you dumbshits killed off your best lead. We don't even know if the serial numbers were filed off before or after they were sold," she said, leaning irritably against her counter.

"Fuck, my head hurts," she said suddenly, turning and rifling through a few items on the countertop before finding and opening a bottle of pills. She took out a couple of them, put them in her mouth, and chewed them with an audible crunch before washing them down with more of her cocktail and sighing. "...We've got two priorities. First, we check the CCTV footage at the industrial site to figure out what vehicle was delivering the guns, and then pull up their plates and see where else they've been picked up. That should give us an idea of where they got them from. Second, we need to pull banking records. We look for large deposits into any known weapons dealer's account, and if that doesn't give us what we need, we look for large cash withdrawals out of high-level Ruthven accounts.

"Sooner or later, we'll catch someone fucking around, and then we'll pay them a visit so they can find out."

 

[Infab]

"Sooner or later, we're catch someone fucking around, and then we'll pay them a visit so they can find out."

"I have one of the Inquisition's available netrunners on it, as we speak. Just fed them the details. If our luck is good, and they don't get pulled off the job for some other Inquisitorial situation, we should have the raw data shortly. They'll comb over it to find anything of note." responded Hayley, gently reaching up and tapping a spot just behind her right earlobe. "From what I saw of the stockpile in the reports, it was fairly large. Some of it had been freshly delivered, but not all in one go. If they were keeping it inconspicuous, I'd say they were using vans to transport it all."

Hayley went quiet for a few moments, folding her arms as she watched Franziska. Eventually, she spoke again, though in a more casual and informal manner. "...I heard you just came back from Tsavania. What's it like up there?" she asked, tilting her head a little as she watched Franziska enjoy her drink. "...I don't leave Eternis all that much. Don't think my previous incarnations did either... though we clones don't really know much about our previous lives save for important little bits and a few life lessons."

After a moment, she looked towards the chair that Fallensteller had been sitting in. "...Do you mind if I sit?" she then asked, motioning a hand to the seat.

 

[K0mori]

"Sure," Franziska replies, sarcastically before downing the remainder of her drink and putting the glass in the sink. "Everyone, make yourselves right at home..." she continued, walking back to her recliner before pressing her hands onto the top of it and stretching her fingers out, displaying her claws as she cocked her head angrily at the inquisitor. "Do you think I want to hang out? ...With you? I don't."

A moment passed as the two stared at each other tensely before Franziska relaxed her stiff posture and let out a heavy sigh. "Whatever. We don't have any fucking leads, yet, and I'm not taking your ass anywhere in this building without a reason," she muttered, mainly to herself. "Nobody needs to see the church's hardware stalking my ass. That means we've got nowhere to go, just yet! So, sure. Sit yourself down. I mean it this time."

She then walked around and dropped herself into her chair. "Tsavania... God, what a hellhole! If you hate it here, you'd blow your brains out, up there. All the drugs and violence, and no sex to balance it out. Everything's too old, too full of," - she snorted loudly to punctuate - "dust, makes you feel like every other building is a library... No matter how many flat panels they throw up on the walls, no matter how much color, it's still all rotten and old. They ought to just tear it all down, bulldoze it and start from scratch like they did here. But the people are old inside, too. Full of tradition and cheap rotgut, always bitching about old grievances and jacking themselves off on old glories. You know why?" she said, grinning viciously. "It's 'cause they've got no fucking future, and they know it. The whole goddamn lot of them are freezing to death or dying of hunger, and they're too stupid to start migrating themselves down to where the food and the jobs are. They want their old world back, and it's not ever coming back."

She then laughed, remembering her recent adventure. "You know what I do like about Tsavania? I like how easy it is to get whatever you want right on the streets. It's not all locked away in towers like this, I mean - fuck - you could be an imp who just got their ticket punched for the next goddamn millennium and if you show up rocking a fistful of dollars, you'll get your mind and your cock blown, and have enough cash left over for the maglev home. God! I'm fucking rich, you know? But up there I might as well have been Catarina-fucking-Klostermann. And it's all the same shit, but worse - drugs, sex, blood, whatever - but I love it, you know!? I love where it comes from: desperate people."

Franziska hung her head, the light of distant neon playing on her bouncing, bleached-white hair as she laughed quietly. "You don't know what living's like. You'll never know."

 

[Infab]

Hayley quietly listened to Franziska's ranting, choosing to remain standing even after being told to sit. She quite clearly didn't want her here. Inquisitors were often seen as bad news, as usually they only showed up to either capture something or kill something. Sometimes both. At the moment, Hayley was a walking reminder that Franziska was practically living against the clock. If this whole matter wasn't resolved by the end of the week, Franziska was going to be dealt with for her failure.

Hayley would likely suffer the same fate.

Franziska's words afterwards reminded Hayley of most of the other vampires in the upper echelons of vampire society, as well as the richer members of society in general. The rich and powerful would use the desperate and miserable for the entertainment they craved, as they couldn't otherwise get it without breaking a few of the God Emperor's laws. Franziska was no different, preying on those less fortunate for kicks.

The Inquisition was always instructed to turn a blind eye to the ways of society unless it related to their work. They were tools to be used to deal with problems that the Church deemed too serious for the normal civil servants to handle. Heresy, obviously, being the main focus. So, the Inquisitor in Hayley simply ignored the way Franziska spoke of Tsavania and its people. It wasn't her business how they lived, what they did to survive, or what Franziska thought and did.

Another part of Hayley, for some reason, had quite a negative opinion of it all. She shoved those thoughts to the back of her mind, as she heard Franziska's final statement.

"You don't know what living's like. You'll never know."

"...Of course not. I'm a clone. I'll be killed off at the end of the week, alongside you unless they chose to do something else with you, or I'll die later. Maybe in a month or two." responded Hayley, "...A new me will be out doing the same thing I'm doing not long after. I'll be a casualty report, recycled materials, and maybe a lesson to the next version of me."

She then shifted a bit, placing her hands on her hips. "...If you don't want me here, I can just return to the barracks. You can give me your number, and I'll just call you whenever the netrunner gets back to me with the info." she says, "...Or, since you love to deal with desperate people so much... we can actually get a head-start on things while we wait for the information."

"I know a guy we can talk to. He used to hang around the Tipsy Teapot, on Broadway, but now he's usually over at the Velvet Lounge over on 5th Avenue. I'm sure you know the place, given its a Karnstein-owned club." she continued, "Goes by the name of Aiden Calderon. He's a Karnstein, too. Usually knows a lot about what's going on down on the street level, so he might know some things we can use. I've used him before, on other ops, and he's reliable."

Hayley then looked down to the clothes that she was wearing. An Inquisitor's dress uniform really wasn't a good look to be wandering around in. "...I can get a change of clothes over at the barracks, on the way. Maybe you'll be happier with me 'stalking' you, then, if I don't look like an Inquisitor. You could just think of me as a temporary thrall."

 

[K0mori]

Franziska's grin remained ironed into her face the entire time Hayley spoke, but as the inquisitor's tone switched from one of misery in love of company and one that was keen on pushing back, the vampire's eyes flickered with a hatred that could burn a hole in Hayley's head.

"You could just think of me as a temporary thrall."

"I don't think anything of you, Inquisitor," she replied quickly, "but my thralls are typically better-looking. ...Regarless, if that Aiden Caldman, or whatever the fuck you just said, is a Karnstein, then he must be a tragic one. I haven't heard of him at all. Then again, I usually have better things to do that waste time at the Velvet Lounge."

She then rose, walked to a safe built into the wall, and with another eye scan, she unlocked and opened the door, revealing a pair of highly-customized pistols - one in white and silvery finishes, and the other in stark black and red - and she placed them into holsters before strapping the whole harness onto her torso, with the guns on either side of her breasts. She then grabbed a voluminous and puffy cropped white jacket out of a coat closet and threw it on, covering up her sidearms. "I suppose I'll meet you there," she said.

 

[Infab]

"I don't think anything of you, Inquisitor,"

Oh, but you're certainly thinking something. That look in your eyes speaks volumes. Hayley simply cocked her brow at the statement, keeping her mouth shut and her thoughts to herself. She's not going to make this an easy job, is she?

...And what's wrong with the way I look?

"...Then again, I usually have better things to do that waste time at the Velvet Lounge."

"Usually." muttered Hayley softly, just under her breath. She smoothed out the creases in her uniform again with her palms, before casually walking towards the front door as Franziska moved to her safe. She paused only once she reached the door, to glance back and watch the vampire as she got ready. Dual pistols, highly customized. Can't tell the caliber from here. What's she expecting when we get to the club, a firefight?

"I suppose I'll meet you there,"

"I suppose so. If I'm delayed, I'll get Aiden to go ahead and meet with you. You two can talk until I arrive." she responded, "It shouldn't take long, though. I'm only changing clothes."

Without another word, Hayley slipped out the door and into the hall. She honestly wanted Aiden to talk to her first, but then thought about how that might actually go. He was a lower member on the Karnstein ladder, but he was also something else: a Lovelace. House Lovelace, a splinter house founded by Tabitha Lovelace (formerly Tabitha Karnstein), was absorbed back into the Karnsteins back when the God Emperor first took the throne. Their history was long and turbulent, and that didn't change even after the absorption of House Lovelace back into the Karnsteins.

Hayley made her way to the elevator, eventually descending down to the first floor and heading out into the street. She got the occasional look from other residents and guests of the building. Usually confused looks, or fear. Sometimes even a hateful look. A normal thing for an Inquisitor. Inquisitors kill vampires. Inquisitors kill a lot of things, pretty regularly.

Outside in the street, she hailed a cab. The night air was nice, and the moist streets and sidewalks were busy. They always were in Eternis, the bustling city active almost every hour of the day. It was the seat of power for the God Emperor's regime. Climbing into the back of the black and yellow cab, she gave the automated driver a simple destination: Eternal Church Inquisitorium, Auxiliary Barracks #7. A simple chime confirmed the destination, a large square screen just in front of her lighting up green. The car then shifted, pulling away from the curb and darting down the street.

​

"...You're shitting me." said Aiden Calderon, cutting a look up to the other young vampire next to him as he slipped a cigarette between his lips.

"Nope. THE dullahan herself. She killed two Inquisitor platoons by herself, over near Skull Creek." responded the vampire, "They think she might still be looking for her head."

Aiden shook his head, drawing his lighter out and flicking it open. A few strikes later, he lit the cigarette with the wavering orange flame. "Doesn't Lord Sazak have that? Locked up somewhere in his tower?" he asked afterwards, tucking his lighter away.

"Supposedly." responded the vamp, "If she's not looking for it, then she's just trying to cause as much misery for the Church as she can. She spawned a bunch of other dullahans over the past few months. Inquisitors are getting bogged down trying to hunt and kill them, but of course, they gotta do it because the God Emperor says so."

"Right... His word being law, and all that." muttered Aiden, taking a drag on the cigarette before exhaling the smoke slowly through his nostrils. "Got anything else?"

"Nah. I'll get back to you about that nuclear waste disposal stuff, though. That seems juicy."

"It fits the le Rouge splinter gang MO, so yeah. Let me know as soon as you hear anything, Trav." he said, before giving the young vamp a pat on the shoulder. He then slipped his hand into his pocket, drawing out a small roll of cash. Payment for information rendered. He slipped the roll to the other vampire, then motioned for him to go.

Soon enough, he was alone. Or at least, mostly alone. He was, after all, inside of a busy club. The Velvet Lounge was packed, as usual. Clientèle of the various vampire houses, as well as humans, moved about. Dancing to the music, or drinking and talking the night away. If they weren't here on the first two floors, they were in the backrooms behind him. Those were reserved for more intimate engagements.

Aiden glanced around at the patrons, as he puffed away on his cigarette. Honestly, he liked this better than the Tipsy Teapot. The Teapot was for more... upstanding vampires. It was a quieter, more sophisticated bar. Here, at the Lounge, you saw pretty much anyone and everyone. Information flowed more freely here, from drunken, hungry, or lustful mouths. Information was the business he dealt in. It was good business, too.

He pressed his back against the red colored wall behind him, letting the back of his head rest flat against it. Of course, the name for the Lounge came from the color of its interior. Most of the walls and pillars were colored a soft red, like velvet. A bit of a contrast compared to the pseudo-brutalist, jet black exterior, which reflected the neon lights of the city around it. The furniture stood out against the red as well, made of a soft black leather that was comfortable to sit on. He hadn't seen what kind of furniture was in the backrooms, but assumed it looked better than what was out here in the main areas of the club.

He wondered which of the Karnsteins up top came up with this club, honestly. Couldn't have been Lilith. She was too focused on the Golden Millennium, another Karnstein-owned structure. That building was inhabited exclusively by the Karnsteins. Not him, of course. He was only a Karnstein on paper, and the upper echelons took particular note of that. It was also why he was so far down the ladder. Not at the bottom, since he had his uses, but still fairly low.

As he thought about his status in the world and the structures around him, he soon felt a buzzing in his right ear. Someone was calling. He reached up and tapped behind his earlobe. "Yeah, what is it?" he muttered, his cigarette gently flopping between his lips as he shifted it around.

"Its Inquisitor Walker. You free right now?"

"Ah, Hayley. Yeah, I'm free. What do you need?"

"Got a job I need some help with. I'm heading to you now. Also bringing an... associate along, since she's technically in charge."

"Anyone I know?"

"'Franziska Kalbfleisch' ring any bells?"

"...A few. I'll grab us a table."

"Got it. Be there shortly."

 

[K0mori]

The roadways were just like everything else - a vector of disease. A million vehicles, some autonomous and some not, headed to innumerable destinations while carrying their payloads of sickness: envy, lust, wrath, and greed. A man drives a stolen car that he killed for, hands wrapped tightly around the steering wheel. A hooker gives road head to a different man behind dark-tinted windows, his car steering them towards a place where they can buy amphetamines. A nurse drives home from her double shift at the urgent care with a gun in her lap, her eyeliner running and stinging her eyes as she knows that this time, she'll catch her cheating husband in the act and put a hole in his head. A limousine speeds a CEO who sold his soul, westward - toward the deserts of Atraca - as he counts down the hours before his contract comes due.

None of them can outrun any of it. Their lives are caught up in the tangle of misery that they inflict on themselves and each other, and each roadway is just another wound that leads to a death by a thousand cuts. But for every fool who thinks salvation is waiting just around the corner, or hiding behind a red light, there's always the ones who aren't running away from their destruction.

Franziska cut through the traffic like a knife, weaving her motorcycle between the speeding vehicles as if they were parked while her cropped jacket rippled in the wind like a sail, keeping her pistols on display at all times so that the other drivers would know what sort of time she was on. She was a victimizer, not a victim, or so she thought, and she would meet the suffocating pressure of the city with her own uncompromising embrace. Her motorcycle stopped sharply in front of the Velvet Lounge, popping up on its front wheel before settling back down. A valet in front locked eyes with her, and with nothing but a grin, she jumped to the front of the line, leaving the bike running as she walked past him and the bouncer on her way into the building.

The interior of the club was so strongly sanguine that her silky hair and her jacket reflected a soft shade of pink. She quietly scanned the room, utilizing the cybernetic eyes implanted in her skull to locate the man she was looking for. It wasn't long before she spotted him, alone at a table and facing the door, so that he had spotted her first. She smirked, crossing through the room and watching as lesser vampires and chimera moved out of her way until she reached him.

"You look like you're expecting me," she said to him.

 

[Infab]

"You look like you're expecting me."

"Yep. Walker called ahead." he said, taking the cigarette between his lips and bumping the ashes off in a tray on the table as he sat back. He then motioned to one of the seats across from him to his left. "Won't be long before she gets here."

As she sat down, a waitress came by and set a glass filled with a dark colored liquid on the table next to him. One he quickly picked up and drank a gulp from. His face briefly contorted into a uncomfortable expression, but he shook it off and set the glass back down a moment later. The hard stuff. He'd need it.

"Walker probably already told you who I am and what I do, but if not, I'm Aiden." he soon said, "I'm an information broker, on the street level. I send out feelers, and dig up intel on gangs and splinter groups, as well as other notable shit. Stuff the higher ups, or the Church, or people with enough money would want to know." He popped the cigarette back between his lips, and took a drag on it.

"That's half the reason that I know who you are already. The other half is I'm a Karnstein, and kind of have to know who's above me in the pecking order. I'm close to the bottom of the chain. Not important enough to have a suite at the Millennium, but important enough to be allowed to do what I do and not get stuck waist deep in shit somewhere."

He then glanced towards Franziska. "...Speaking of waist deep in shit, hope your trip back from Tsavania went well. Heard that was a real mess, but also heard you cleaned it all up pretty nicely. Even better than Florentina."

 

[K0mori]

"So you've done your homework," Franziska replied, unimpressed but still mildly flattered. Mildly. "My bosses let me have more fun in Tsavania, so I did it my way. And if the reports are as glowing as you're implying, then I wouldn't be in the spot I'm in now, getting tailed by an inquisitor with a fucking bishop on my case. I'm sure Walker already told you about my rather tight deadline. So... if things all work out for me again, I suppose I'll put in a good word," she suggests, without a hint of sincerity.

Without the inquisitor present, however, Aiden was unlikely to reveal much, to avoid having to repeat himself. So Franziska made small talk about the information broker's status, a subject he seemed keen to mention a moment earlier.

"You know, I'm not really the type to get bogged down with paper trails and games of telephone. I'm the type to decide whether I love you or hate you from the minute I lay eyes on you. I don't mind you. You're easy enough to read; being near the bottom can mean a few different things, but based on the fact that you're not at the bottom, I'm going to wager that you're a Karnstein in the same way that pigeon is a dove," she teases, grinning playfully at Aiden. "You were sired by one of Lovelace's lot, weren't you?"

Aiden's reaction told her everything she needed to know. "You were...! But you've been a good boy - you know your song and dance."

 

[Infab]

Aiden's eyes widened for a few moments, and the cigarette almost fell from his lips. "...Fuck, am I that easy to read?" he muttered softly, mostly to himself.

He then sighed, taking the cigarette from his mouth and downing another large gulp from the glass before him. She's going to hold that over my head now, isn't she? She is definitely the type to do it. Shit.

"...I was one of the last sired by the late Emilia Lovelace, just before her execution," he eventually said, "And yeah... I know. The Bloody Baroness."

Emilia had a... particular hatred of Lilith Karnstein. It had stewed within her since Lilith had ordered Conor Lovelace's execution back in the early 1920s. When the word came down of Lilith's intent to absorb House Lovelace back into House Karnstein, reuniting the bloodlines, Emilia snapped and had every Karnstein she came across slaughtered in response. She wanted a hot war between the houses of Karnstein and Lovelace, instead of the cold one Tabitha and Conor had waged with Lilith, and briefly got one in May of 1948.

In the end, she was captured, staked with white oak, beheaded, and burned to ash. It was all under Lilith's direct supervision. Several of those she had sired were also killed. Aiden had managed to avoid it and most of the repercussions by simply submitting early to Karnstein rule.

With the kind of power Lilith wielded, having the support of the God Emperor, it was literally suicidal to resist.

"...Walker didn't tell me you had a deadline, or that a Bishop was involved either." he said, deciding to change the subject. "Most of what I heard, and know, is that you're spoken of pretty favorably. My guess is someone above you didn't like the idea of potentially being replaced by you. What better way to solve that problem than to drop you into a rough situation with the Church, and with a limited time frame to fix it?"

He slipped the cigarette back between his lips. "They want you to fail, and be knocked down the ladder. That, or killed."

He took a drag on the cigarette, exhaling the smoke away from Franziska, before speaking again as he glanced towards her. "...If you want, I can see what I can dig up. People talk. Especially here, as well as over at the Tipsy Teapot. Maybe I can get you a name, and perhaps some other details too."

Maybe if I offer her something enticing, she might not focus too much on my lineage. I deal with that enough already.

...God, I feel like such a fucking kiss-ass, now.