The phone rings after a moment and I pick it up. “Coke… are you certain of this. I do not like this grandstanding.”

“It is not grandstanding. It's logic. The only individuals capable of dealing with that creature is myself or the Archon. As it stands, the Archon can not, will not get involved. That leaves myself. Need dictates sir.” I reply with a well rehearsed reply. I was wondering when he’d blow up and ask.

“Damn it Sheriff, if I lose you…”

“Then the Archon will back you up. If not him, then another.”

“This is too risky.” I listen to his voice, to the growing fear, to the worry. And I know, if I do not cut this phone off now, he will order me to stop.

“All life is a risk sir. This one is just a calculated one. And it is too late to turn back.” Then I place the phone down back in its cradle and rip out the line. I turn back to the doorway, waiting.

A gamble. A very large gamble for certain, with so much of our resources in one place… and no trap is perfect. No trap can be certain, no plan definite. I could be walking them all to their deaths. This is why I hate command, not because of the decisions, not because of the strategies, not even so much because of the lack of real action. It is the weight of responsibility, of the choices you make. As a soldier, you need only follow orders and try to keep yourself alive. As a general, you make the orders and at times, sacrifice the lives of others.

“Sheriff.” The voice crackles through my earpiece, bringing my thoughts back to attention. “They’re here. ETA for phase 1 is two minutes.”

“Copy. ETA 2 minutes.” I slowly pick up the rifle, slinging it over my shoulder and then the sword. I wait, taking my time to double check on my equipment before walking upwards to the exit.

As I move along, another crackle from the earpiece slows me down “Shit. Boss, I think we know why we can’t find a 20 foot Godzilla. 5 guys just piled out of a car and now are… well… ummm… joining together. Looks like they’re making Godzilla from, well, themselves.”

“Good thing I didn’t eat. Jesus. I think I’m going to lose my lunch.”

“Looks like Godzilla just did. Shit, is that someone’s stomach?”

“Mac…!!!!”

“Shut the chatter up boys. And get ready.” I bark the order out loud over the mike, pushing order down their throats. Their good men, just not used to seeing, well… whatever it is they’re seeing. Still, it’s a good explanation.

I pause outside, allowing my eyes to adjust even as I move away from the building, footsteps moving along a well traced pathway. I see the packs not long afterwards, and the slow lumbering form of Godzilla. I frown, letting my gaze trail across the ground, gauging the distance.

“Janus, confirm – Godzilla and north pack has another 50 metre’s to go. ETA… roughly 30 seconds.”

“Confirmed. ETA of east entrants in 10 seconds.”

Shit. That means that by the time Godzilla and the rest get back over the mines, the other packs will literally be on top of the others.

“Shit. Alright, I’m going to draw some attention. On my mark, activate phase 2.” I step out from the shadows, hefting the rifle. I switch to full auto and move outwards further, pausing only long enough to rest the weapon snugly before opening fire.

They spy me moments before the bullets actually slam into them, the frontrunners hit by the spray. I barely aim, swinging the barrel from side to side to draw attention. They reciprocate, snapping shots at me. Badly aimed shots, most taken as they duck for cover. I run out bullets in moments, and then they’re at a full run, all of them.

I take my time, moving sideways all the time, dropping the clip on the ground and slapping in a new one. I let loose with the grenade launcher, watching it streak forwards and smash into Godzilla, to throw the others around like matchsticks. None of them are happy, and that’s when I whisper a single word into my mike.

The others get to work, but I’m already unloading my fresh clip into them. As it runs out, I toss it to the side and unsling the sword from my shoulder. Dropping to my knees and swinging it sideways in one smooth movement, I open up the guts of the first Sabbat that reaches me onto the red earth, he’s moving so fast he’s barely a blur.

The dance begins in earnest then, as I dodge to the side as another charges me. The one that I want, Godzilla is swinging between attacking me and the whithering fire coming from Marcus and his men. I grab hold of one of those next to me, swinging him into another even as I change.

In a moment, I’m no longer a man but a wolf, one that dodges to the side as another figure opens fire. I feel another bullet skim across my shoulder even as I spring forwards, ducking between legs and hamstringing one as I charge Godzilla.

I’m a blur that hits him at his first leg, slashing at the foot before dodging to the side, ripping into an ankle as I duck to the side. I dodge in and out, ripping into him, yet there are too many hands, too many feet. I never see the arm/tentacle/thing that hits me, smashing me into the air and onto the ground.

I roll, springing back up. I think he broke some ribs, but I’m already charging him the moment I’m on my 4 feet. I duck to the side as another tries to jump on me, his claws scraping on my fur. I barely feel the pain as I launch myself into the air, changing as I fly forwards.

By the time I hit him, I’m a man again, my claws digging into the body of the creature. I duck to the side, one gripping tightly to a fleshy potruberence even as I swing my other to rip open an arm that comes too close. I can see him reaching for me, but somehow, somewhere, those arms did not get too close. I’m seated on, and for the moment, he can’t actually grab me. Not anymore.

I take the time to rip in, digging my hands as deep as I can before ripping outwards, clawing deeper, hoping to hit something vital. He’s swinging to and fro and then suddenly I’m in the air again, as my clawed grip slides, ripping open his side even further as I go.

I hit the ground once more and come up rolling but he’s onto me before I can even get my bearings. I block what blows I can, but something comes into my side, another breaks my arm and a third blows smashes me to the ground as it hammers into my head. Nausea and dizziness sweep over me as I struggle upwards. A feeble block is all I can offer to one hand before I’m picked up once more, clawed fingers digging deep into my shoulder as Godzilla lifts me to a group of mouths.

I don’t remember the explosion, or how I get the grenade into my hand, but the next fully conscious thought I have is that it’s going to be a bitch growing a new arm. I groan, slowly rolling over and staring up at Godzilla. He looks the worst for wear, but I feel worst. I slowly stumble upwards, concentrating long enough to force the bones in my arm to knit even as I stumble towards my sword.

I don’t reach it. He smashes me in the back and I’m in the air again. The creature’s strength is prodigous and this time, I think he broke my spine. I land in a heap and all I can do is roll over slightly, staring up as he lumbers towards me.

There is a laughter in his eyes and mouth and I groan, trying to breath. I cast a glance towards my sword, not that far away, a bare 15 metre’s. He’s pushed me past it, the creature closer than I am. He sees where I look and it shifts in it’s movements enough to head towards the sword. And the only thing I can do, with myself unable to feel my legs is concentrate on healing myself.

I watch him grab the hilt and at the last moment, I grab hold of what’s left of my tattered trenchcoat, pull it over me and brace for the explosion. It rips outwards in a radius of 5 feet around the sword, triggered with the swords release from it’s modified sheath in the ground. Spikes and ball bearings, superheated from the explosion and gouts of fire from the shaped C4 are all directed inwards, at the sword itself. And Godzilla.

It’s a raging inferno and as far away from it as I am, the backwash of heat and the shock wave is enough to toss me around even further. I must have blacked out for a time, because when I next roll over, all I can see is a fast fading column of smoke and superheated air and bits of Godzilla scattered all around. What can I say? Cheating works. Oh. And all’s fair in war.

I concentrate on healing for the time, letting the others do the clean up work. With Godzilla dead and the others caught in a trap that they didn’t know was there, the clean up should go relatively cleanly. Snipers take care of those who are hiding or lagging behind, Pierre swooping in on the one’s they miss and Janus on overwatch to offer directions. Pretty cut and dried from now on.

Of course, the real clean up, of the site, of the Masquerade will take longer. But that’s another matter, for now, we’ve won. Even if I feel like shit.

***

“You could not have known Sheriff.”

“I should have guessed.”

“Perhaps. But it is done, and they did not survive.”

“Luck. Castlerock was in the right place at the just about the right time” Just about. About 5 minutes too slow, to save the Prince but fast enough to catch the rest of the packs that slipped in.

“Do you know how?”

“Now.” I almost spit the word out before I control my own emotions. The Prince does not need my emotions, just my information. And advice. “They shifted the packs from Phoenix, left it mostly undefended and launched an all out against us. They made it through the Lupine highway through sheer attrition and then dropped the survivors on the Prince. Jules, his ghoul” his trusted servant “was exchanged. I believe up to 5 years ago, from all indications. He provided the location, and dropped the security systems. The rest…”

“I understand. And the Archon?”

“He will survive. He is recuperating from his injuries but Castlerock and his ghouls were able to contain and neutralise the rest of the Sabbat before he too was murdered.”

He nods slowly, his eyes shutting before he looks up “And the Council?”

“Are awaiting yourself.”

He blanches slightly, staring at me and then his hands for a time. He says nothing, and neither do I, letting him decide how far he will take me into his confidence.

“I never wanted to be Prince. I… I can not. I am not…”

“No. You are not.” I watch as the words hit him, as his head jerks up and then I lean forwards, staring into his eyes as I drive the words home. “No. You are not him. But you are the Prince now. And we need you.”

“Castlerock…”

“Is too new to the city. Too unknown. You are known, and trusted. And you have access to the influences, to the contacts that he left behind.”

“But they don’t know me as a Prince.”

“No m’lord. They don’t. But then, how can they? It will take time, but they will learn to. As for not wanting it…” I laugh then, softly and tiredly before leaning forwards and speaking softly, harshly. “I would not trust you if you desired this position.”

He offers me a twisted smile at my words, staring at his hands before he straightens his shoulders, looking at me. “No choice, eh Sheriff.”

“No choice. We’re at war. And if we falter, we die. And so do all those beneath us.”

He nods slowly, rising from his seat and crossing to the doors. “Then let us, what is that you say? Oh yes, dance.” He pushes the doors opens, stepping out into the corridor, towards the waiting Kindred of the city.

I smile at that following him out at a slower pace, whispering my reply. “One last dance then. For tonight.”