I walk into the room silently, looking at those inside. 2 of the ghouls stand there, behind a young man that sits on a chair, his jeans clad legs pulled up into his arms, trying perhaps to find security in size. Blood lies upon his shirt and his hair, upon his jeans. I could smell it even before I entered the room, blood that is nearly dry but not yet. A foot lies bare, the other holding a pair of Nike sneakers. His eyes look upon me, in fear and in hunger, unable to comprehend what has happened to him. And it isn't hard to tell for he has yet to learn how to retract his fangs. He stares at me, looking for answers that I'm not sure I can give.

I walk inwards, listening to Pierre shut the door behind us all and take a seat opposite the kid, speaking at last. I'd soften my tone if I could, but I was never one that others would come to for comfort. For strength perhaps, but never for comfort. "What's your name?" I nearly use the word child on him but stop myself at the last, knowing he will not take this likely. And in the night, new to this unlife, the Beast rages close.

For a moment the man stares back at me, not comprehending the question. When he speaks it's in a rush, perhaps to get the words out, perhaps because he doesn't know if he can speak again if he stops. "Lance. Lance Mitchell. What am I? What's going on? I don't remember properly..." Eyes darting around the room, his gaze going to Pierre and flinching before they come back to me, resting on me, his eyes wide in pain and fear and so many more emotions, none of them good "It's... cold."

I know what he speaks of. Somehow, when you wake up again, when you live in our world, something changes. Something fundamental, something that those alive can never understand. The world grows colder, somehow you know you are no longer part of it. Unnatural in itself. And even for those of us who walk the closest to nature know it, perhaps even more pronounced. We are no longer part of this world, an aberration on it.

"Can you tell me what you remember?" I speak once more, hoping to divert his attention and gain some more information.

"I... I don't remember. I was walking home, from the club. Alone. Didn't score and then something grabbed me. It... bit me." Reaching up he touches at his neck, where a wound would be if it had not been removed already "It felt good and then... I woke up. I remember, feeling hungry. I'm hungry again. Gods... I want to... I need food. Could I have some?"

"I'll order some. But go on..." I know. It's a lie. I ain't going to feed him again, it looks like he's satiated for now. Just that the Hunger is always on us, raging through us.

"I... I felt so hungry and then... these voices. People... and I saw them but I didn't. I saw their blood... their... throats. And I just.. attacked them. I wasn't in control. I couldn't stop myself, help myself. I just.. had to have the blood... I was so hungry. I don't remember much more.. just... blood and feeling... good and then something... hit me." He shakes his head, uncertain of the last and I glance backwards to where Pierre stands. He nods ever so slightly to me.

"I see. You don't have a name? A face?"

He shakes his head no and then looks at me, looking at my eyes "Who are you. Who are you people? What the hell is he?" His voice rises at the last though he doesn't look to Pierre, shivering, trying to find some answers. I gues he deserves some. Though i don't think he'll like it.

"Pierre's a Gargoyle. I'm the Sheriff of this city and you're a Vampire. My job is to keep the law and the Traditions for those who would break them. Like you. And the person who made you what you are."

"What the fuck do you mean I'm broke a law. And what traditions?" He's not scared anymore, the other part of the Beast coming out. The anger, the rage. I look at him and then shake my head, turning to look at Pierre and speak with him.

"Who's doing clean up?"

"Silten. There was one survivor. He's dealing with it."

I nod at that, knowing what will happen. He'll change her memory. Not all of it, not even half of it. Most likely change the face slightly, the method of attack, just enough to preserve the Masquerade. Make sure that the right type of police officer comes along to handle the details of the case, ensure that the right counsellor, one on our payroll then deals with the lady. Someone who will talk to her, work on her, make sure that the memory change stays and is reinforced. It's not a big problem really, after all, she is a mortal. She'll remember what we need her to and if she has bad dreams of someone with fangs attacking her, well, dreams are dreams and we make up things in our minds to compensate for what we see. She'll want to put this behind her, to get n with her life. And the counsellor will do it for her. It's for the best really, living between the worlds of mortal and supernatural is not a comfortable existence for the most part.

Here's a trade secret though. You don't have to have all the police officers on your payroll. Not even half of them. All you need is to make sure that the right type of officers get to a scene and get assigned to them. There are 3 right types mainly. First are the one's that are just so grossly incompetent that even if you showed the evidence in their face they'd never see it. Ever wondered why they kept their jobs? Well... there you go. The second type are those that are so scientific, that are so caught up in the delusion that there can be no monsters that they will take no other reasons, no other explanations. So even if they see a body with fang marks they'll think it's just a vampiric serial killer or some cult or a teenager who watched one too many movies. The third type are those that are paid by you to look away, that are in your pocket. Doesn't matter if they know about it or how you control them, just that they do as they're told. And you know what? I don't have the numbers but I'm willing to bet that there are more Masquerade breaches that are covered up by the first two types than by the third. Heck, I'm willing to bet that maybe only 20% of actual breaches are covered by people like me. That doesn't mean that we shouldn't stop working, just that the Masquerade isn't as easy to tear as some people think it to be. Of course, if we weren't there the chances are that the Masquerade would go to tatters completely because it's normally the big breaches that we cover. The really damning evidence. The guy's getting even angrier, getting close to an actual frenzy now. He snarls, jerking forward and is held back by the two ghouls, both who know what they're doing. I turn to him, listening to his snarling words that are barely comprehensible.

"You're a vampire. Get used to it. Pierre, have you gotten a sample yet?"

A slight shake of the head and I nod to that, standing up. "Do it. Then put him back in the brig, don't bother feeding him. He might not be around for long. And Pierre? Contact Sandy. She'll have to deal with him tomorrow."

"Who the fuck do you think you are? You can't do this to me. I'll kill you. I'll tear your throat out and drink your blood... I'll kill you... you can't do this. I'm not a fucking animal."

I ignore the mans ravings, moving away quietly and walking out as Pierre nods to the two ghouls to hold him down better as he nears him with the knife and beaker. The blood sample goes to Montgomery, something for him to handle, hopefully we'll learn the guys Sire from that. Sandy will speak with him tomorrow night, hopefully calm him down and perhaps get a bit more information. Perhaps I could have been kinder. No, certainly I could have. But there's little I can do for him, I have a feeling anything else I could have said to him would have been even worst. It won't stop me from regretting what I did but that's the way it works.

I walk out, heading for the communications centre we have situated here for now. I hope that the actual building for us gets fixed up soon, I dislike the lack of security here. But at least it's better than the office block we were using before this. Too many windows. Way too many windows.

"Tell the Prince that I'll need an appointment with him tomorrow. About midnight will do." I nod to the ghoul who works inside there and move out. He works as part secretary, part co-ordinator and part searcher, the police band radio always on next to him so that he can keep an eye on what is going on. I leave then, little more for me to do. There are 2 hours left to sun set, about time for me to get to bed really. I want to pick up one last folder from within the office block where we still keep the meetings and data before I go back to my haven. Something to read before I fall asleep.

The next night comes too soon for my liking. The report from Silten waits on my desk as I get in and I flip through it quickly. Nothing extraordinary in it, all of it done to plan and procedures. I make a note to myself to tell the man that he did a good job on it before I look at Montgomery's report. I look over the information, nodding at the bit of the Kindred being Caitiff. The next bit is even more interesting, giving a description of a Kindred that I know not of in the city. It's pretty clear by now what happened and so I just glance through the rest of the report, making sure nothing else unusual shows up. Nothing does. I stand up, checking what time my appointment is and call ahead to the warehouse, telling them to tell Sandy not to bother if she doesn't want to as he's likely to end up dead anyhow. With that I move off, glancing at the time and nodding. I have 2 hours to go so I'll just give the city's Rack a quick once over. Perhaps I might get lucky and see the guy who caused all this problems. 2 hours and a fruitless walk around the Riverfront district - where most of the clubs and bars, colloquially known to the Kindred as the Rack can be located I'm at the Prince's residence for my appointment. I walk in without a word, knocking once on the door and waiting for a short moment before going all the way in.

He's seated behind his desk like the first time we met, working on some project or another of his. He still uses pen and paper for the most part, not really touching the computer that sits next to him on his desk. I know he knows how to use it though, a surprising fact for one of his age.

"Coke. You wished to see me?" I hear him use my name, well the name I use in this city. A nickname I picked up, one that came about mainly due to the fact that I didn't want to give the former Sheriff my real name - or as much of it as I ever give anyone. His attitude really grated. What can I say? I don't like people with sticks shoved up their ass... even though I know why. And the fact that I seem to have grown one too.

"Yes. We had a minor breach of the Masquerade last night. A Lance Mitchell was embraced by an unknown Cainite and left within the car park that he was assaulted. Pierre on his routine patrol of the Rack" One of the things about the Rack, being the communal feeding grounds it's also the place where if things are going to go bad, it's the most likely to. Which is why we try to keep on Deputy on duty there all the time. I don't even pause as this bit of data flashes through my mind, not bothering to explain this to the Prince. He knows it already "came across the newly embraced Cainite attacking a pair of mortal females and dealt with him. Silten finished the clean up operation."

"Very well done but I take it there was a reason you bothered me with this outside of our regular meetings? Do you believe this to be a precursor of the Sabbat attack?"

"No sir. I believe that a Kindred accidentally drained Mr.Mitchell and then embraced him to make up for the fact. I also believe that the individual has no connection with the Sabbat. I am uncertain of his lineage but I would believe he is a Camarilla Kindred, perhaps fleeing the Sabbat advance or having hoped to enter the city. Perhaps just a Kindred who enjoyed travelling."

He nods at that, waiting for me to go on.

"I contacted you sir for this appointment as I was uncertain of my jurisdiction within this matter. He has not broken the Traditions himself though his existence is a breach by itself. His destruction is not within the bounds of the brief I received. Nor is his continual existence mine to decide."

"Of course. And in the case that he might belong to one of the Kindred in the city you thought I might have desire to prolong his life-span? As perhaps a matter of leverage with said individual?"

"Somewhat. I didn't exactly need you turning around to accuse me of overstepping my bounds either." Nothing. No change in expression at all. Oh he's good. But I'm not really playing with him much, just telling the truth.

"Of course. Very well, do you have any suggestions on what might be done with him? Perhaps another addition to your team?" Okay. So it's a bit of a sore point with him, the amount of resources I've requested. At one point in time he visibly flinched every time I came in with a folder. It's not my fault. I don't have the resources his old Sheriff had to call upon, and while I'm working on picking up the pieces of that and so is Silten, I still have a lot of ground to cover. And anyway, I prefer to over-plan than under.

"No sir. He's untrained and still coming to terms with his existence as an undead. Unlike other individuals who are embraced upon the field, he has not known of our existence and thus has to deal firstly with that and secondly with the various other disorders of our existence. Also, as you might note when you receive the files, he is of very thin blood. As such, he would likely be of little more use to us than the shock troops of the Sabbat. Considering that we do not know the timing of the attack, he would be a drain on my resources till then, resources I could use for other matters."

"I see. Deal with him as you see fit then.." He pauses for a moment to show that the topic is done with before speaking again "Is there anything more?"

"Nothing that can not be dealt with later."

"Of course. Do remember that the council meeting is in 4 days time Mr.Coke? Your presence would be desirable this time." Okay, so I played hookey at the last council meeting. They're a bunch of old farts talking a lot and not actually getting anything done beyond annoying me. I don't have to like listening to them after all. And it was important, what I was doing. If I could remember what it was.

"Of course. Good Evening then sir." I turn and move off, slipping away from the room and heading out, nodding absently to the secretary and two bodyguards who stand outside.

A night over and I'm back at work, waiting in the warehouse for Cox to drop by for her training session. Mitchell has been dealt with, last night to be exact.

I dropped a message off with the Nosferatu via a guy who goes by the name of Marius, the Nosferatu contact for me. Also their representative on the council as Janus refuses to do that. We have a little deal going on, I give him information like this which he can then sell to other Sheriffs around the country or anyone else for that matter, and I build up a little bit of goodwill with them. And perhaps whoever it was whom actually Sired Lance might be made to pay for what he did. Not a kind generous thought I know, but one that has garnered me a boon. And perhaps justice of some sort.