The bar's smoky and badly ventilated, the smell of unwashed human bodies, cheap perfume, spilled beer and cigarette smoke hangs in the air, clinging to my clothing and creeping inside it's pores. I look around once more automatically from the booth I've taken near the back, right next to the fire exit. I see nothing of interest and glance at my watch again, nothing the time. 11:51pm. 9 more minutes before I leave and head to another bar just like this.

I've seen neither hide nor hair of the Sabbat yet but I'm sure that will change pretty soon. It's not as if they'll just give up looking for me because it's hard. Oh they might beat up a couple of poor mortals to relieve their frustrations but they aren't giving up. Not after what I've done to them. 2 packs down permanently, another pack badly injured. At least 2 members dead, possibly up to 5 down and certainly at least 4 no longer battle ready for a while. No, they aren't going to give up on me. They have my scent, they know I'm in the barrens and now they'll try to find me. I'm willing to bet they've got the place cordoned off and are slowly drawing the noose shut.

Once more my mind comes back to the plan I put forward. I remember the reactions and I wonder maybe, just maybe if they were right. So much to risk for something I could so easily walk away from. Nothing really holds me down here, I could get up and go anytime. I'm sure that good as they are they can't have covered all the ways out. I could just... leave. And silently in the darkness of the club, with the press of bodies around me and the low hum of voices carrying themselves around me I admit it to myself. I'm scared. I would have to be inhuman not to be. Either that or really dumb. I dice with my life here and if they catch me, my death will not be pretty.

I nearly get up then, get up and walk out of this bar and this city. Nearly. But the twin demons that have haunted my life keep me seated, waiting for the clock to strike midnight. Duty and Honour. And I can but consider which road they will lead me down this night, what crimes I might commit in their name that will blacken my soul even further.

A feeling, a cold wind down my neck, interrupts my thoughts and I look around, trying to locate its source. Somebody's walked over my grave and I'm wondering who it is. It's a feeling that you get sometimes, instincts and training and past experience and an unknown something all rolled into one. I've spoken to others before, those who have been in the field as long as I have. We all get it, somehow. Those of us that survive long enough to anyhow. The way a cop walking down a street just knows that the man before him is going to do something illegal, the way a good reporter knows when someone is not telling him the entire truth. It's the same thing. Some call it intuition, others a sixth sense. I don't know, I just know that sometimes I get it. I'm getting it now and I know better than to ignore it.

My eyes continue to scan the bar, hunting for what it is, working over each customer and then I see it. Or them really. 3 individuals, two dressed up as bikers and the third in full black goth clothing. They don't stick out too much, not here but it's the way they carry themselves. I can sense it even from where I am and the mortals can to as a wide circle begins to appear about them. They're not entirely human, somehow being removed from it. A look in the eyes, a way they hold themselves. I don't know what it is, it's hard to pin down but it's there. Predators among prey. Sabbat pack members. I try to guess their clans whilst I pick up the beer I stole from a table, half finished and bring it to my lips, watching them over the glass.

The goth is difficult to pin down. I figure he's either Tremere anti-tribu or just another whacked out goth idiot who got chomped. Which leaves a lot of unknowns. The other two are easier. The first gives away her calling by sweeping her hair back with a hand that have pads on them. Gangrel, city from the looks of it. The second looks Brujah, something in the way he holds himself and the way he just seems more at ease in a slum like this makes me guess that. That and the dark frown on his face, eyebrows drawn together like he's about to rip someone apart. His clothing fits him best, seeming to be a part of him and maybe just a bit more, well... drastic than the others. And once I note them I scan the place again, putting the glass down and bending my head, trying to stay unnoticed.

I don't look too out of place. Trench coat is still on but that's not too surprising, there are a few people still wearing their coats inside here. It's cold even in the bar, the temperature unseasonably low for this time of year. Brown eyes and cropped black hair do little to put me apart from the crowd. Seated down, even my size isn't that much of a distraction. No, there's little to put me apart from the crowd. Much. I hope.

They look around once more and I feel one of their gazes pass right over me. I shiver slightly but that's all right, it's hard to tell under all the stuff I wear. That and the cold could have caused a mortal to shiver. They look around and turn, moving out to the next bar and I begin to relax at last, shaking my head. I feel tense muscles relax underneath the coat and I smirk to myself. It never gets easier.

I wait another 5 minutes before I leave too, by the back. I take the first left and then a right before another right, more wandering randomly than by any conscious thought. If I think about where I go this night, then maybe they can find a pattern to track my movements. So I don't think. I just keep an eye out on where I go, stopping every once in a while to listen and sometimes even look back to see if I'm followed. Not surprisingly I also scan the rooftops. I'm not the only one who likes them.

Twice in the next hour I spot figures that I believe to be Sabbat. The first time they're in a group of 4 and I leave them well alone. The second the guys up on a ledge where a group of mortals are. I'm looking for a quiet kill so I leave him alone. I can't let them get too confident and I have to keep the trail hot enough that they don't get too frustrated. So I search.

I find myself near the edge of a building, 4 storeys high. One of the highest remaining buildings on this particular street and best of all, it looks deserted for now. I scan the place again, trying to see if there is anybody waiting for such a move and then head up. The door to the apartment building is childs' play to open and it's not very long before I'm on the roof. I stay low, heading for the roofs' edge.

I scan the streets for a moment and see little more than I did before. Then I scan the area around me and I nearly break the silence with a very unchristian like oath. God damn. My luck must be running out. How the hell did 3 different hunters get on the same side of the street as me? Of all the random chance happenings... For Gods sake, this place is huge. They can't have found me that fast and they have to spread out over the entire area. And I really doubt they've been waiting this long to jump me on the off chance I might come here. Damn, damn, damn. Worst part is that the pair has spotted me. They're coming straight at me and I can see the claws growing on both. Only good news is that they aren't telling ugly on the other side that I'm here. Guess they want the kill for themselves.

I'm moving for the doorway, heading straight for it. I have enough time to get to it and down but one of them is moving fast . I'm guessing celerity. He's faster than me and that's never a good thing. Which means I got to play it another way. No grenades though, they'll just draw more attention. Gunshots are fine out here, unless your pretty close the noise will die off and in this part of town, a gunshot is a gunshot. Too many of them go off to check them all out even for the Sabbat. Hands dip into the coat, going for the weapons and then I turn, throwing myself along the ground, sliding with my back on the ground and away from them, hands up holding my weapons of choice.

I'm tracking him as it is and the first Gangrel is already on the roof, halfway to me with his claws fully grown by now. One problem about close combat like the Brujah found out, it's close. You can't hurt someone from a distance and I sure as hell am not going to let him near me. Got firsthand knowledge how much those things hurt. The sawn off goes off, pushing me even further and into the railing with a jolt. The jolt throws my aim off by a bit, not enough to miss him if he had been there but it's not a good shot.

If he had been there. He was expecting it and he's gone, ducking to a side and then he's on me, taking a swing at my arm to get rid of the sawn off. Good move theoretically, bad move since this one's empty anyway. It still hurts of course, the claws ripping lines of fire along the inside of arm. The sawn off drops from my hand and I twist, bringing the other gun up to his chest. It's a big gun and it's loaded as usual with hollow points. Useful since they spread out on impact and pass a lot more force onto the target. That means that they normally move backwards even further. At this range the double tap I use on him pushes him a number of steps backs before he gets his footing.

I move first, pulling on the trigger again and again, dropping more blood into my system and tracking him even as he tries to get away from it, punching bullet after bullet through his body. I know it isn't hurting him as much as it would a mortal but it doesn't really matter. The idea is to keep him away from me. I'm cycling through the bullets as quickly as this thing will reload, each bullet taking the guy in the chest, forcing him away and down the roof. And all this time the other Gangrel is coming for me and I just know that the last Sabbat up here has heard it all.

I put out another 3 bullets in the next 3 seconds, concentrating long enough to begin the healing process for the wounds on my arm as well as dropping some more blood to speed up again, pushing past the pain to drag out another gun. And then I see him, the last Gangrel just right out of the corner of my eye. I pull my legs back and catch him on the downwards arc as he jumps at me, near his hips and kick up before he even gets close enough to take a swipe with those claws of his. And while he stays in the air I fire, pulling the triggers again and again as I put as many bullets as I can into his body. The angle of my kick and location of the shots all add to his forward momentum, pushing him up and over me. Of course since I'm already at the edge of the building there is nothing but air for him to land on. Not until the street that is.

I turn, coming up and note that the last 3 bullets certainly seemed to have been felt at last by the City Gangrel. He isn't moving anymore and doesn't look like he will be. I still put a few more bullets in before scanning for the last guy. And that's when I get worried. I can't see him and that's dangerous. I change tactics once more, putting my guns into their holsters and then grabbing my sawn-off from the roof. I take off for the opposite end where the Gangrel came from, opening the sawn-off long enough to slip in two cartridges before shutting it once more. I take the jump, hitting the roof and rolling before coming up easily and continuing the run, the gun still in my hand as I try to find him. But something tells me I've come across an Assamite.

Assamites. Trained assassins, supposedly the best of the best. Fast, smart and completely merciless. Of course these guys are the Anti-tribu's. That is, the other clan. Sort of a break away thing from the main group, just like the Gangrel in the Sabbat are Gangrel anti-tribu. Mainly means that their more vicious than normal.

I'm still running while my mind flicks over this, wincing at the thought. I hate Assamites, nearly as much as I do Setites, Giovanni and Tremere. I really don't know why I don't like them that much, maybe because they are one of the few clans that I would really hate to go up against. Maybe because I used to do the very same job that they did. I'm not sure. And all this is doing me little good. I'm already coming to the end of this block and after the next building I'll be hitting a dead end of sorts. Major road with too many civilians to take a fight too or to let myself drop down. Too many questions to be answered. I take the fire escape down, wanting the time to heal the wounds in my left arm, listening to the racket I make. It hurts like hell as I feel the blood flow to the wound, pushing against and reforming my body. It's not a case of speeded up regeneration, no open wounds knit together nor does skin re-grow. Instead the blood bubbles to the surface of the wound and holds there for a moment before suddenly it disappears. And in its place is partially healed wounds'. Now, in most cases injuries heal without leaving a mark and with much less expenditure of vitae. But not always. The claws and teeth of our kind and those of the werewolves injure us in a way that is different, damaging the form in a supernatural manner. So too does fire and great amounts of damage taken from the same cause. Whilst resilient we are not immortal and the wear of battles tell upon us. The wounds aren't fully healed and I don't have the blood or time to heal them all the way. It doesn't matter too much; the arm is once more usable. On the ground once more I take off down the alleyway I find myself in, barely noting the passing background as I scan for my assailant. I never see him as I duck from alleyway to alleyway, charting my way through the back streets unerringly. I know roughly where I head this time, always avoiding dead ends. I keep moving for the next 5 minutes, slipping the gun away and slowing down somewhat as I move onwards, not wishing to draw undue attention.

At last I slow down and step into a doorway, removing the sawn off once more and waiting. I don't need to control my breathing like a mortal would in my place, never having started breathing in the first place. Instead I only wait for my clothing to settle before I am completely silent, my eyes darting from side to side as I wait to see if I have lost my pursuer.

It's just as I begin to relax, after 10 minutes of silent waiting for sounds of pursuit or any other indication I was followed when he strikes. I take the sword blow right at the neck, not even seeing it before it is too late. It's your normal scimitar, those things that you see Sinbad running around with, honed to a fine edge and backed up by supernatural strength. The blow slams into my Adam's apple and lodges in my throat for a moment more before it's yanked out quite rudely. The gun in my hand falls to the ground as I stumble forwards, clutching at my ruined throat. But even as I do so my assailant is already bringing the sword across my back; once, twice as quick as an eye-blink.

The last two blows don't injure me, cutting through the trench-coat and vest underneath with ease. But they're enough to slow it down and the rest of the impact I absorb easily. It's only this, my supernaturally enhanced fortitude that saved me from earlier decapitation. I ride out the two last blows, my mind clearing of pain at last as I find myself on the ground.

I have no more time to think as I sense him readying another blow for my neck. I twist as he brings the sword down double handed, swinging it with all his might. I come up underneath the blow, already moving supernaturally fast once again, my left hand snaking in between his two arms to block and slow him down even as I rise. By now I'm in too close to be hit by the sword but I have not the strength to slow the blow completely. I take it on my left shoulder, nearly forced to my knees by the impact. Nearly. I twist my left hand slightly, grabbing hold of his right wrist, crushing it with my grip as I stand fully, trapping him from using his sword without changing hands. And while he's coming to the realisation on his new circumstances I hit him with my other fist. The blow is a beautifully placed clean punch to the jaw, rocking his head backwards and knocking his back.

Reacting before him, still hurting from the blows I've taken earlier but not having the time nor blood to heal them I close my hand over his wrist even more tightly. The sound of cracking bones come to my ears and I hear a short moment later the clatter of his sword as it hits the ground. He's good however, good enough to keep on moving even after this. He hits me with the other hand, a quick succession of blows that land at my neck, aimed for my open wound. I roll with the blows, the pain sharp and clear in my mind though he does no more real damage to the wounded region. I return the favour, lashing out with my own fist for his jaw once more, breaking it on the second blow.

He isn't looking too happy by now and realising he's not harming me he changes tactics. I feel an unusual sense of weakness rush through my body, starting from where he touches me with his hand and running through my body. I don't know what it is but I decide not to chance it anymore, instead twisting slightly and bringing my leg upwards to kick him. It's a normal sidekick, my balance superbly kept throughout thanks to his helping hand which I let go just before he begins to fly through the air from the impact. He lands heavily but he's good and is already rolling with the fall even as I turn to him. I quickly consider going for my guns' but decide against it, knowing he would reach me before I could get one aimed at him. Instead I take the time to heal the wounds in my neck. He comes up in a moment and is already moving to meet me, in his hand a knife that he must have taken out while rolling. His movements aren't as smooth as they were before but this is still going to be a hard fight.

He spins the knife and goes for a slashing attack at my throat once more, the only part of me that isn't covered. Oh, he could go for my head but with a knife such an attack would do little real harm. The skull is pretty damn resilient no matter what people say. The neck on the other hand is mainly muscle and skin which makes it a much better cutting area. I block the first attack barely in time, he's that good. The next few attacks come too fast for me to register properly much less try to avoid or stop. Guy's moving as fast as Stone was. The first one gets through my defences, leaving a thin line of blood in it's wake. The second does little more damage as do the others.

He's strong and he's fast. A very nasty combination and one that I can't let go on much longer. With regret I drop more blood into my system, speeding myself up momentarily. I hold back long enough to let his next attack come in close and then I twist aside, using my right hand in a cross body block. I slap it far enough away from me to let me grab at it before I turn, putting my other arm further up his shoulder and shoving him. Textbook block and attack, using his own momentum to help slam him into the nearby wall, letting go at the last moment to free my hands. My next move isn't something they teach you in any self defence class but it works. I step forward and then kick out, aiming about a foot and a half above the ground, right at the back of his kneecap.

The leg gives way of course. Not surprising since the knee is meant to bend that way. Unfortunately since he's right next to the wall it doesn't have much to give before it hits the wall. There's a short gasp of pain as the kneecap is dislocated, coming down at an angle as it is against the wall. He begins to crumple downwards, unable to keep his leg upright even while he tries to twist around to face me.

I don't let him, instead stepping forwards quickly and reaching for his head. It's a brutal manoeuvre but a good one. Once I head lock him there is little more he can do to get out of it. He tries hitting me with his elbows, going for the short ribs but the armour I wear keeps most of it out. The rest I soak easily. It takes a short while before his neck snaps. Unlike what the films show it isn't that easy to break someone's neck. Especially if he knows what is coming and he's undead.

With a loud snap and a suddenness that surprises me it gives, the body slumping past my hands. He goes down and I step back, reaching for the canister. Dropping it on the body I move away, hearing the woosh of newly ignited gasoline sound behind me. I move away, healing the last of my wounds as I go. I'm very low on blood, I can feel the Hunger rush through me as I move onwards. I just hope I don't come across any of the kine before I reach my final destination for now.

I'm lucky, not that luck has had that much to do with it. No one uses these back alleys, not along here anyhow and in time I come across the doorway. I break the door open before slipping in among the crates of the warehouse, heading for a particular crate. In it is more blood. Mine. Placed here in case of emergencies. I only have one other place like this so I need to make sure this blood lasts.

It doesn't take me long to find and finish the blood, feeling somewhat better. The Hunger no longer gnaws as greatly at me but it's still there. I close the container once more and place it away before beginning to strip my trenchcoat off when I hear something. Someone else is here. I shrug the coat back on and spin away from the crate, getting ready to fight again. This place has no guards... none that would have reacted so fast anyhow. Trouble.