The contract was sealed in blood.
I could make no sense of the Malkavian who hired me's...
I could make no sense of the Malkavian who hired me's...
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User | Total |
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Charles Flynn | 22 |
The contract was sealed in blood.
I could make no sense of the Malkavian who hired me's ramblings. But I was not paid to interpret the babbling of mad prophets. Nor was I paid to understand why my clients wanted people dead. I was paid, in both vitae and lucre, to kill things. And so, here I was. In Tokyo. Mitakihara, to be precise. Stalking the halls of Mid Bio Informatic's headquarters to kill my target.
The journey to get here had been an arduous one, both for the difficulty of avoiding the notice of the Kuei-Jin, and for the trouble of convincing the North Macedonian Post to ship my coffin to Japan in the first place. I would most likely have to wait a while to arrange my return trip to Macedonia, as a corpse in a coffin making a two-way trip would be all sorts of suspicious, but that would be no hardship. For some reason, since arriving in Tokyo, I hadn't found a single sign of Kuei-Jin presence, a fact that I would waste no time in passing on to the Old Men of the Mountain upon my return.
My client had managed, at the very least, to coherently tell me the name of my target, Karasuba, her location, and given me a work of macaroni art that he purported to be an accurate rendition of her face, which I now held in her hand. Supposedly, the fate of the world hung in the balance. Although Pavlos had a tendency to say that the fate of the world hung in the balance every time he contracted me to kill someone, even when that someone was just the teenager who kept throwing rocks at his haven, so I took it all with a grain of salt. I would still kill the woman, of course, fate of the world or no. Madman or not, Pavlos always paid upfront. He was dependable like that.
I saw a woman round the corner, and immediately cross-referenced with the macaroni art. Color palette aside, it was a fairly accurate match. Of course, if the macaroni art wasn't confirmation enough, there was also her security lanyard, which identified her, in both Japanese and Latin script, as Karasuba, no last name.
And so, my target acquired, I began to plan how I would murder this woman. It would need to be in a private location, of course, away from the watchful eyes of the employees who even now teemed through the halls, giving my target a wide berth, of course.
I followed her, cloaked in the shadows, waiting for the time to strike. And soon, opportunity knocked. She, apparently having to leave on some matter of business, decided to take an elevator to the ground floor, and, given the apparent terror that MBI's staff held her in, there would be no witness brave enough to share the elevator with her. Perfect for my plans. And so, as we waited for the elevator, her impatiently oblivious, I contemplative and all aquiver with the nervous energy of an impending assassination, I considered my options. To strike from stealth in a place where she could reasonably expect no threat was, all things considered, a guaranteed kill. But I had not survived so long as an active duty assassin of Clan Assamite without developing an exceptional sense of caution. Whatever breed of monster this woman was, it was enough to make both Pavlos and MBI's employees terrified of her. I was not in the habit of disregarding the terror of the people in the best position to know my target's capabilities. And so, I decided to be cautious. Licking my blade, I coated it in my blood, transmuted by the Discipline of Quietus to eat through all manners of flesh, in volume enough to make the next two strokes of my sword disintegrate my target's flesh.
This was all the preparation time allowed, for no sooner had I finished coating my blade than the elevator opened, and my target walked inside. I followed, only Celerity allowing me to get in before she pushed the "close doors" button.
And so, I was in the elevator, alone with my target, seven floors away from our destination. Not ideal, but I would take it. I moved, carefully positioning myself so that I could strike from behind her, without my scimitar clipping the walls. And then, with all my superhuman speed, I struck.
As my cloak of Obfuscation broke, as my sword closed the distance towards her neck, I saw her head turn, and her eyes widen, as her hand dropped to her sword. If she had been a hair quicker, or I a mite slower, a fight might have broken out in that cramped elevator. But such was not the case. Instead, her decapitated head tumbled to the floor, even as her headless body drew her blade in a textbook iaijutsu swing that forced me to the ground to avoid its arc.
I of course, being utterly terrified, immediately vomited acidic blood at her until her entire body had been reduced to a liquid slurry, seeping across the floor. Then, I came to my senses, seeing that I had only three floors to go before we would reach our destination. I immediately poured out the contents of the jerry can of gasoline which I always carried with me on assignments over the remains (such as they were.) Because you can never be too careful. Activating my cloak of shadows, and readying to light a match, I waited patiently for the elevator doors to open. And then, amid the horrified gasps as those waiting for an elevator saw the gruesome remains inside, I walked out unseen, lighting a match and tossing it over my shoulder as I went. The fire alarm soon went off, and I escaped through an emergency exit, scot-free.
A perfect assassination. Praise Haqim. Then, I set out to find a place to stay until I can ship myself back to Macedonia, and perhaps a drink. Killing people always did make me thirsty.
---
As I wandered through the night, thirsty and ever so slightly lost, I happened to notice someone walking alone. She was tall, blond, and leggy, with some fairly impressive… blood packs on her chest. And so, since I could sense no witnesses, and I really was quite thirsty, I decided to help myself to a sip or two. The shadows embraced me, and I was soon upon her, her breath catching in her throat as I appeared before her, my teeth sinking into her throat.
And then… And then things got weird. Giant glowing wings appeared from her back, and just as I thought to myself, "good going, David, you actually managed to find an angel, and you're fangs deep in her," the taste hit me. It was rich, and deep. The ecstasy of the Kiss swept over me, magnified a thousandfold by this woman's unnatural blood. It was like being hugged by my family, like smooth, slow lovemaking with someone I deeply loved paired with the finest wine. It was intoxicating. It was addicting. I had to have more. My hunger consumed me. I could not bring myself to stop drinking, even past what I knew would leave her in need of hospitalization. And then, full, I stopped, already plotting out how to get her to the nearest hospital as my high faded. Although my loss of self-control was shameful, I would not allow this woman to die for my mistakes.
But she did not stumble, did not collapse as I licked her bite wounds shut. Instead, she stood strong, her face slightly pale, her stance a bit shaky, but otherwise stable. And she looked at me, the pleasure haze fading from her eyes.
"You…" her hazy eyes began to grow sharp with anger, as she focused on me. "What did you… Do you have any idea what you've done?"
Realizing that the answer was no, and the girl was probably some sort of bizarre Japanese werewolf if she was still standing after losing so much blood, I decided that discretion was the better part of valor, obfuscated and ran like Hell.
Privately, as I dodged the blasts of water that the Japanese werewolf girl was tossing down the alleyway, I swore that I would never again drink the blood of some strange woman in an alleyway. Sure, I had sworn the same thing before on the eight previous occasions when drinking the blood of strange women in alleyways had gotten me into trouble, but this time I meant it.
After I had made sure that I lost the weird werewolf girl and found the address of the temporary haven I had rented in the city, I settled down for the night. Unknown supernaturals aside, my time in the city had been quite pleasant. The assassination had been textbook, and if I could manage to lay low until I found a way to get myself shipped back to Macedonia, I might actually get to enjoy some peace and quiet for a change.
Thinking such pleasant thoughts, I drifted off to sleep, in my securely locked, fortified, and sun-proofed haven.
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I know this is most likely Minato awakening as either a Mage or a Hunter... but for maximum insanity I kinda want it to be surpise ExVsWoD and him to solar exalt.And then Minato exploded. Not like a bomb, though, no, in that very moment, Minato became a veritable font of supernatural light, power flowing forth from him in coruscating waves as his eyes widened. And then he collapsed, out cold.