Midnight. Melodramatic sons of a bitches aren’t they. I can’t see them yet, I can’t hear them. All I can do is feel them, like a cold wind down my neck, a tingle on my ears, goosebumps along my flesh. They’re here. I don’t look up, staring down at the map of the city set out before me, waiting.

First strike – take out the general. Without a head, the serpent will thrash, but it has no direction. And in matters of war, the head is not the Prince but the Sheriff. They’re here for me, and I can feel them slowly closing in. But that’s okay, because I’ve been waiting for them.

This is the hardest part for me, the waiting. When the planning is over, when the scurrying for information is done, the equipment gathered, and the people in place. The waiting. I’ve never been good at it, I don’t think there are many people who are. But patience is a hard lesson to learn, but once learnt, is harder to forget. So I waited, at first for them to strike, now for them to reach me.

They’re good, I don’t even hear a single one of my many traps go off, not a single sensor or alarm. All defences that they’d expect of a Sheriff; and then some, are waiting for them out there, and they bypass them without a whisper of a sound. I wonder how they’ll handle the door, after all it’s shut. Open it silently after fixing the creak or come in hard and fast?

It seems that loud and noisy is the call of the day, the door shattering in an explosion of wooden splinters. I turn my head away towards the window, even then reaching for the shotgun under the table. I watch as a shadow swings in to the window just before the dark clad falls through, sending glass shards in an arc around him. I swing the shotgun as he lands, not bothering to pull it out from under the table but using the swivel I’ve built into it, tracking him and pulling the trigger. It jerks slightly, the accuracy shot – but I’m using pellets. He rocks backwards at the blast and then again as the second shot scores another hit.

I feel something grab me, wrapping its arms around my body even as it slams me backwards into the wall. I struggle slightly, the shadows that hold me giving me little support. I watch as the man slowly stands up, the pellets slowly dropping to the floor as his body expels them. The other slowly move in further, all of this silent, too silent. Supernaturally silent. Which explains the lack of noise of course.

Two of them heft swords, long sword and an Arabian sword - whatever you call them. I’m sure Sandy would know, all I know is that they look wickedly sharp and coated with some black substance. I have an idea of what they might be, but personally, I’d prefer not to find out. A man clad in black (so typical) stands there with no weapons in hand, smiling softly. And a Gangrel stays right at the back, his hands open and flexing as he looks upon me. There might be another outside, watching their backs but I’m not sure. And all of them have this look on their face, that says “that’s it?”

Well, can’t really disappoint them can I? I twist my arms slightly, the shadows giving way as my trenchcoat bunches up, and I touch a button. They don’t notice, and by the time they realise something is wrong, it’s too late.

Shaped charges placed within the wall, hidden from view by a thin wooden layer explode outwards, sending the shards of metal and wood into the back of my unsuspecting guests. Unfortunately, I’m hit as well, with nowhere to dodge I can only shut my eyes and ride out the pain. I feel the shadows that grip me disappear under the assault of flame and shrapnel and I slide to the ground, groaning softly. Something large and sharp is lodged in my right shoulder, but I force that aside for the moment. Force the pain and the shock from my mind as I rush towards the window.

Something looms out in front of me in the cloud of smoke and settling dust. I don’t have time to go around it so I hit it with my shoulder, grabbing hold of him with my right arm and taking it with me as I crash through what’s left of the window. We spiral outwards and the fall comes all too soon. Even with the body beneath me absorbing most of the impact, it still jerks my teeth shut and sends waves of pain out from my shoulders.

A fraction of a moment later, I drop the building on them. Or at least the roof. I kinda figured I would not be able to deal with them in a fair fight, too many, too good. So once more, I changed the rules, having this place constructed with a number of built in traps. The ceiling with the shaped charges being one of them. Not something they could have found out about till too late. They’re taken care of for now, as strong as they might be, the weight of a few tons of mortar and cement should hold them down.

I reach into the back of my trench, pulling out the knife that is still there through all this and slam it between his ribs quickly, straight to the heart. I leave it there for the moment, before I pull it out again and push it into his throat, sawing at it. My movements are slow, way too slow but I’m hurting something bad.

Unfortunately, it only gets worst as something tears through my right shoulder again. I have a feeling it was meant for my head, but I might be wrong. He might be prolonging this for the hell of it. I twist to the side, not even able to feel my right arm anymore and roll, trying to get to cover. The next shot misses me, but the third rips into my leg. High powered rifle, big calibre with hollow point rounds. I go down, unable to move and I lie still for a moment, fighting the blackness that seems to threaten to wash over me. If I faint now, I’m dead.

I hear footsteps approach, the slow movements of someone extremely confident of what he’s doing. I didn’t think that much time had passed. Maybe I was wrong. It doesn’t matter as I concentrate for a moment, forcing blood further into my system. The healing is slow, I’ve used so much blood already healing the damage from the blast. Damn…

I slowly force myself to look up, to see him. I push myself up using my left hand, staring at the figure before me. He just grins, in his hands a scimitar. Nasty little weapon, one that he seems intent on using on my head I would say. I don’t say a word, neither does he as he closes the distance. Once he’s near enough, I try to get to him, shoving myself upwards with a surge of energy, hoping to tackle him and bring him down to the ground. It doesn’t work as he bats me away with the flat of his blade, sending me sprawling once more.

This is getting embarrassing. It’s not a fight, not anymore and I just lie there on the ground, staring up at him. He takes a step forwards, raising the blade up and I just wait, so damn tired. Maybe it’s best this way, at least I won’t have to see my friends die again. I let it build in my eyes, let it show, all the weariness, all the weight and the responsibility, all the pain and the suffering I’ve seen and felt. I show him exactly how tired I am, and I watch him get cocky.

He brings the sword down, fast and smooth to take my head off. I can’t get away in time, but that wasn’t the idea. Instead, I use what’s left of my right arm to block it, jamming the blade all the way in. It hurts like hell, and if I was even an inch less tough than I was, the damn blade would have cut through my bone and come out the other side. Some uses for being dead then.

I don’t pause whilst waiting for him to realise that I’m not completely out of the fight yet, instead reaching up from the blade and yanking him down to me. His momentum is still shot, his balance not there and he’s just plain surprised. There’s little resistance and by the time he realises what I’m doing, gravity does the rest for me. Down he comes, right onto my fangs.

I bite down deep and hard, and I keep him there with my left arm, holding him still. And then the Kiss kicks in, and he’s not fighting and neither am I. We’re both riding the biggest high that we’ve ever felt (except for another Kiss of course), and it’s taking us on a roller coaster that we never want to get off. I couldn’t stop it right now even if I wanted to do so, the rush is so high and the need for Blood raging in me. It dawns on me slowly that I’m not draining blood anymore, that I’m sucking at his neck drawing something else in, something much more potent and that thought is enough to jerk my head away, separating my face from his neck. I pant slightly, the effort costing me more than I cared to think of.

Before I can move the body off me, something grips it and tears it off. As I look up, getting ready to fight this new threat, I see something gray and solid, rock solid. I slowly relax, realising it’s Pierre and I offer him a slight fanged grin. He doesn’t speak, instead picking me up and taking off. That’s about when I hear the sirens, way too close. I guess it’s time to run.

By the time I’m healed and rested, I’m up to date on what’s been happening since I started my little dance with the pack. Things haven’t gone as well as we hoped, but then nothing ever does. All battle plans are perfect till the first bullet flies. Then you toss the dice and hope that the devil isn’t playing.

We lost both Elysiums – both the one we hoped ot use as bait and the real one. Somehow or another, they knew where it was. Not too surprising, we planned for that too. What we didn’t plan for was that monstrosity that went through our defences like a hot knife does warm butter. Whatever the hell it was, it was tough and even Pierre could barely slow it down. The Keepers out of the game for a while, who knows how long. We lost a few good ghouls and another rank neonate, but beyond that, losses in personnel are minimal. Still, the Elysium fell too fast, way too fast.

At least the other attack went according to plan somewhat. They must have suspected that it was a trap ‘cause only the newborns went in, so when we shut the place down and burnt them to the ground, we didn’t get anyone that was important. Still, the attack on their back hurt them a bit, hopefully enough to tell in the long run.

The war for influence of the city goes on as it always does. They killed a few of our agents, pulled out a few stops and made sure that we couldn’t get the police to the Elysium when we wanted them to, you know the usual. We hit them back, too k out a bit of their effectiveness in their city, put an entire pack in the morgue after they got hit by a large number of mortals with sub-machineguns. It’s pretty much a stalemate at the moment, with us holding the upper hand but with little information on their resources. At least, for now.

The dance has begun, and the city is going to be bathed in blood once more. Even if the mortals never hear a single peep more of it than a number of rival gangs and underworld families clashing. In a way, it’s true too.