The Black Hand"--society of "bad" vampires, often Satanic and ofcult-like orientation
Malkavian--clan of vampires seen as insane, generally tricksters
Ventrue--clan of vampires who are generally leaders, organizers, and businessmen More will be added as the story progresses.
The black door opened, and Rock waved him in. The long, ebony table was surrounded by four well-dressed men at far end near the wall/window. They looked quietly pissed off. *This is gonna be bad.* Nielson sat down in the seat nearest them on the right. The meeting began.
"So, what does your man in Sunnydale have to say?",p> Nielson cleared his throat and told Edwards, the questioner, "He says the world almost ended."
"And how did this happen--or, almost happen?" Edwards was tapping his fingers on the table.
"We lost Angel to the other side. He tried to resurrect some demon that would swallow the world, or something. It didn't happen."
"Why not?"
"I'm having an inquiry done at present." Nielson's voice began to rise. He was nervous. Edwards' fist tightened, and he was looking almost straight down at the table.
"The Jyhad allows no one to be unobservant. This is not something you should have missed."
"No, sir."
"We are not just talking about the Camarilla, here. This is the entire world."
"I know, sir."
"You'd better know!" Edwards yelled as he slammed his fist on the table. "And our Slayer?" he asked more quietly. "What has happened to her?"
Nielson's eyes brightened at the word "Slayer." Angel hadn't been the only vampire to fall for her.
"We know she is no longer in Sunnydale."
"And?"
"And we know nothing else."
"Well find her. If she enters Camarilla territory she might start slaying the wrong people."
"Yes, sir."
"You may go."
Nielson thought, *That wasn't nearly as bad as it could have been.*
Whistler saw Nielson sit down at the bar of the Bronze long before Nielson could see him coming out of the shadows. He deliberately tripped over a stool to get the man's attention, and once seen he took off his hat in aflagrant, clumsy bow. He was a natural joker, even for a half-Malkavian.
"Hey, Niels," he said, grinning as he sat down.
"What do you have to smile about?" Nielson replied, reproachfully.
Whistler looked surprised. "Well, I'm still alive, for one thing."
"Neither of us will be if something this big slips by again."
"Hey, this town is not he best place for information. I acted as fast as I could."
"Thank God you had the sense to do that."
"Thank Miss Summers, if you're gonna thank anybody."
"If I get a chance to I will."
The bartender broke in and asked, rather uncordially, "Can I serve you guys anything?"
Whistler answered, "Two gin tonics, no ice."
"I hate gin tonic."
"Come on, it's a man's drink. And, uh, barkeep, no listening in, huh?" He tossed a five dollar bill on the table. They waited for their drinks, got them, and then continued, Nielson shuddering from the taste of his.
"Where is she, anyway?" Nielson asked.
"Oh yeah, I forgot you were sweet on her."
"The committee needs to know."
"Yeah, I know. But I don't know where she is. I kinda figured she'd leave, but she won't let you ask her anything. She nearly killed me for making small-talk once."
"Well we gotta find her."
"I'm working on it. I got a tip from one of my friends that she went north, on a bus, and I have a lot of affiliates there. They might have found her already."
Nielson let out a breath. "I didn't know you had such a handle on things."
"That's the Ventrue in me."
"It doesn't show, usually."
"I'm glad it don't. Whatever bug's up your ass ain't gettin' near me." They laughed for a bit, and Whistler got another shot in his glass.
"Hey you said she went north, right?" Nielson suddenly got a little paler.
"Yeah, uh, why do you look like that?" Nielson just stared at him. "What?"
"The Sabbat are moving up that way."
"Oh, shit."
The bus was pulling out of the station at Terrace, Oregon. It was seventeen after nine at night. A honking car from the parking lot woke Buffy up, and her eyes were assaulted by the glaring lights inside. She looked around; the bus was pretty much empty, in fact it was *completely* empty, except for the driver (she didn't recognize him--must be a different shift) and a few goths in the back. She felt a little uncomfortable. One of the goths came and sat down next to her.
"Awake now, are you." She noticed he had blue hair and a stud on his tongue. She was getting more uncomfortable.
"Yeah, but I'd like to go back to sleep soon, so you can sit down back where you were."
"But we've been waiting to have some fun with you."
He was a vampire. *Oh, God, I don't need this.* She had hoped that she had left this kind of thing back in Sunnydale, at least for a while. She reached for her stakes, and then saw them out of the corner of her eye--in the driver's hands. The vampire grabbed her waist and tried to lay her down on her back. She grabbed blue-hair's arm, twisted it, and broke it at the elbow. He screamed and she got up and ran toward the driver. The driver pulled off of the road and slammed the brakes, knocking her to the floor. She felt one of the goths jump on her back and bend her arms back behind her. He leaned to bite her ear, and then she butted her head against his, breaking his nose. She squirmed out from under him, and when she saw the driver standing above her she punched him in the crotch, kicked her legs up, grabbed his head with them, and slammed his skull into the floor
. Buffy grabbed the stakes out of his hands, and stabbed him in the back. He turned to dust as blue hair ran toward her again, his right arm swinging unnaturally. She jumped and kicked him in the chest, staked the triple-mohawked one behind him, and then his studded tongue wagged one more time before they both were vaporized. The other two in back were trying to break the windows to get out, but Buffy got them before they could get anywhere.
"Maybe if you stop thinking from your pants you'll learn to fight better." She stepped out of the bus and looked for any cars on the highway. There were none. As she was squinting her eyes to see in the distance, she heard a scraping sound behind her. She looked and saw a very ugly looking creature; it was bald-headed, had pointy ears, and warts all over its face. It had a pasty, greasy complexion. Beyond all this, however, it was definitely a vampire. Without thinking she staked it and it turned to dust, like normal. Then she noticed the camouflaged plate that had been moved, uncovering a square trap-door in the earth. Buffy hesitated. She wanted to get away from all of this, until she was able to figure out what she was going to do with the rest of her life. Logically, she should just get away and try to hitch a ride. But her first priority, the priority she was taught, was not logic but duty. No matter what she did from now on, logic had no place for her. She went in.
It was dark, but her eyes adjusted quickly. From dim lights with no determinable source, she saw that she was at an intersection of five roughly-hewn tunnels. The idea was both disturbing and confusing--who made this, for what reason, and what did that mean for her? Even more disturbing, however, were the shuffled steps close behind her. They were too close. Before she could turn she heard a quick succession of loud clangs, and she looked and saw that her hands and feet were bound in iron shackles. More of the ugly vampires surrounded her, and she was led forward on a long chain. She tried to fight, but the chains only allowed her enough room to walk in short, uncomfortable steps. From behind she heard the plate on the trap-door close.< /h4>