Vincent stared out the window of his third floor apartment, contemplating the recent night’s events. He noted with great distaste that he had once again found himself awake in the middle of the day, staring out into the darkened, cloudy sky. The last couple nights had brought him odd visions and dreams, and woken him up far before the night fell once again upon the city. He sat back in his chair, remembering the most recent vision…

    The sky stood before him, blanketed with dark, black clouds, still like the calm before a storm. He let his gaze wander down to the valley below him, where all of the clans could be seen, Sabbat, Camarilla, and independent alike, watching, waiting for something. Vincent finally realized they were waiting for him, for his orders to battle, for him to order the destruction of the Antediluvians, systematic, thorough, methodical, just the way he liked things. He could scarcely remember the moments that had led him to this point, but, knew deep in his mind that the time had come for the fear of Gehenna to pass. Under his lead, the vampires could live without the fear of the return of the Antediluvians, the clans could once more work in peace, and together keep the Masquerade strong. He felt great joy within himself once more, like his life meant something for the first time since he was brought over to the darker side of reality.

    Suddenly though, lightning flashed across the field, and the image in the valley below changed. Vincent felt things were far less peaceful, in a state of uproar, and ready to snap at any moment. He watched as suddenly they all leapt into action, clan against clan, elder against neonate, none being spared. He continued to watch from above the valley as things began to calm, and he noticed that nearly all the vampires in the field were dead, having died the final death. Looking up on him from below were only the strongest of vampires, ready to do as he bid, whether it be to destroy a village, or to drop the Masquerade. They would do anything for him, and it felt good. Vincent could feel the power within him, he could feel the ability to control any and all who would dare stand against him. He knew that his time had come.

    Vincent continued pondering the meaning behind his visions, wondering if they were foretelling the future, or just visions of his deepest desires. Recently, he recalled, there had been an assassination of a rather powerful Elder among the Tremere, and tonight there was to be a meeting of the Camarilla to try and come to a conclusion as to who was responsible for the deed. He wondered to himself whether any of this was linked with his dreams, but, shrugged it all off as coincidence. Still though, it nagged his mind, somewhere, deep inside, he could feel potential for his own gain in this situation. Vincent though, wasn’t the type to worry only about his own personal gain, and couldn’t understand his recent feelings that had been distracting him from his thoughts of creating a more unified Camarilla. Regardless though, tonight, his mind had to be on the task at hand. He had been asked by a few of the Brujah elders to help in escorting a Tremere to the meeting this evening, and, as a small reward, he would also be allowed to attend the meeting, and get a deeper look into the goings-on of the Camarilla, something he had often longed for. It would also give him a chance to prove himself to his Elders as not just the rare Brujah who didn’t just throw himself into every battle, but as one who could function well both in and out of combat situations. He decided that all the recent events would have to be something for him to reflect more on at another time. For now, however, he thought it best to simply try and get some more rest before this evening.

    Vincent tore himself out of bed as the phone rang, and quickly noted it was pitch black outside now.

    "Yeah?" Vince asked, still a bit groggy from sleep

    "This is Jeffrey, the one you have been asked to escort this evening, I’m waiting for you downstairs, please be down as soon as possible, as I would hate to be late."

    "Yeah, yeah, give me a minute or two, I don’t want to look like crap at a meeting like this." Vincent said, hanging up the phone

    Vincent climbed out of bed, pulled on his boxers, a nice pair of slacks, and his favorite shoes. He spent a minute or two searching the closet for the right shirt, and grabbed one of his traditional button-up dress shirts, the type your average businessman would wear. He threw on his black leather trenchcoat, and underneath it, strapped his sabre that he always carried to events like this. On his way out, he also slipped his butterfly knife into his right sleeve, just in case.

    Walking down the stairs, Vincent caught his first glimpse of Jeffrey, who was quite a bit older than him, at least in vampiric years. He appeared as though he were in but his mid-twenties to the humans, but, Vincent could see the age in his eyes, he had seen at least a century of unlife, maybe a bit more.

    "You are Vincent, I presume?"

    "Indeed I am, good sir, shall we go?"

    With that, the two walked slowly out of the lobby, and onto the sprawling streets of Chicago. Vincent gave a subtle nod towards the group of teens standing around across the street, making sure they noticed, and they began to follow.

    "So, Jeffrey, tell me, if you can, what do you know about this whole fiasco?"

    "Well, I’m afraid that I really can’t comment on that at this time, Vincent, you’ll have to wait until the meeting."

    "Alright, I can handle that. Say, you been in Chicago long?"

    "Not really, but, I may end up moving in here, depending on what comes of this evening’s meeting."

    "Ah, it’s a nice city, I’ll have to show you to some of our more interesting spots sometime."

    "I’m sure I’d enjoy that, be sure to get a hold of me after tonight."

    "By the way, have you got a clue what exactly they’re going to do tonight? It doesn’t seem like the type of thing that one little meeting could reveal the answers to, you know?"

    "I’m pretty sure it’s just standard after something like this to get together, and harness all the information we have to figure out who is responsible for this." Jeffrey said, as suddenly the two of them felt a burst of motion.

    Vincent watched, as a blade seemed to materialize out of nowhere and planted itself firmly in Jeffrey’s side. Vincent’s gaze shifted up the blade, and to the face of its’ owner, a vampire darker than any he had seen before, and then he recalled hearing of them before. Assamites they were called, trained killers, hired by all the clans to perform assassinations for them, and usually they were rewarded with the blood of those that they’ve slain. They were blatant Diabolists that the Camarilla couldn’t touch. All vampires in their right mind feared these creatures.

    Vincent didn’t have much time to react as another blade slipped into Jeffrey’s torso, but, it appeared as though he hadn’t yet noticed Vincent.

    Within his body, Vincent felt his blood flood into his muscles, making him feel stronger and faster than any human could ever hope to be. He reflexively pulled his sabre from underneath his coat and blocked what would’ve been the fatal blow to Jeffrey. It was obvious now that the killer knew of Vincent’s presence, and Vincent knew he didn’t have a prayer if he were forced into the defensive. He raced forward, his sabre slashing quickly inside the katars the killer held in his hands, but, before his blow could meet flesh, those jet black hands snapped back and pushed the blade away from any hope of hitting its’ mark. Nevertheless, Vincent continued his violent assault, swinging quickly at the "thing", hoping to at least catch it once. Unfortunately, it was too fast, and Vincent was quickly losing his advantage. It backflipped away from him as he pulled back to strike again. Fearing that it had something else up its’ sleeve, Vincent dashed in wildly, attacking the beast, but, it had recovered from the initial surprise by now, and was ready. Vincent’s attack met with a parry from one katar, as the other slid quite nicely into his belly. He tried to swing again, but got the other katar shoved into his side. His body, limp and unconscious slid off of the blades onto the black asphalt below. Luckily, the Brujah that Vincent had following them had caught sight of the fight, and raced in to pummel the ebony attacker. He was caught under fists, clubs, spikes, and every imaginable implement of pain that these gangs would carry. One of the Brujah knelt down over Vincent, slit its’ own wrist, and supplied him with some of its’ blood. Vincent recovered quickly, as vampires do, healing his own wounds, and standing up as the others finished pummeling the assassin. Vincent spoke loudly, pointing to the nearby wall,

    "You three, put him on that wall over there, he will face punishment for having the audacity to try and kill myself and my companion."

    The Brujah carried the nearly unconscious body to the wall, and held him there, facing Vincent.

    "You foolish, foolish boy. When will you learn to not pick a fight with an army?"

    The assassin tilted its’ head up a bit to stare into Vincent’s eyes. They were the emptiest, blackest things Vincent had yet seen.

    "Those like you do not deserve to continue existing." Vincent said bluntly, as he whipped the butterfly knife from his sleeve.

    Vincent felt his body shaking in rage, the raw power of Caine seated deep inside him. He pulled back, and struck hard into the assassin’s stomach. Then again, and again. Vincent used a bit of his remaining blood to quicken his strikes as he stuck the knife in again and again. As the flurry of blows ceased, the assassin’s entire torso had been torn nearly to shreds.

    Across the street, one of the Brujah was helping Jeffrey to his feet. He called out,

    "WAIT! Vincent, there are some things we need to speak about…concerning our attacker. Let us travel back to one of the Tremere’s meeting places, there I will explain all. Bring him with you, he’ll be useful later."

    "All right then, but I better get a damn good reason why I shouldn’t kill this fucker right now." Vincent replied coolly, as he signaled the others to carry the assassin’s body with them as they made their way to a slightly different destination.