The Story Game

I'm getting bored. I don't know why I came out to Ricky's. Sitting at the bar in silent observation, I see that this club is crawling with posers and wannabes that jiggle in place to the driving beats of Megadeath or sit at the metal tables drinking cheap, diluted beer and comparing tattoos and piercings. Bright strobe lights cut through the thick smoke from cigarettes and a fog machine. They hurt my eyes, so I'm wearing some dark shades inside the club. Reflecting off of the small crowd's vinyl and leather clothing, the lights are almost pretty.

When the posers come to the bar to waste their money on diluted beer, I get a nod from them. Some of the males and even one of the females offer me a drink, which I always decline, and try to start a conversation with me. The same questions: "What's your name? Where are you from? How do you like the band?" The older ones trying to reclaim their youth ask me my age. My response to all four: "Does it really matter?" It never does. It makes me sick.

I ignore a shirtless muscular guy as he leans over the counter in an attempt to catch my eye. I turn my attention to the shiny metal counter and remove my shades to examine my reflection. Aside from my pale skin, I'm not all that bad-looking. My wavy mane of dark brown hair falls into my violet eyes, giving me an almost feral look. I have a muscular, well-toned figure that you would expect to be stuffed into one of those skintight bodysuits you see in pulp fetish magazines. Maybe wearing a motorcycle hat and carrying a leather bullwhip and handcuffs. Some people may get off with that idiocy, but I don't. Black jeans and T-shirts from my daily uniform. With my favorite trenchcoat and boots, I cast an image of normalcy.

As I finger the ankh charm hanging from my blue velvet choker, I am reminded of the ugly, jagged scar the choker hides and the fact that it's been a long time since I have felt normal. I've had plenty of people approach me tonight, but none of them are what I'm looking for. Besides the kick-ass band, this trip has pretty much been a bust.

I get up from the bar and put my shades back on. Taking one last look around, I see that a fight has broken out on the dance floor. As I come near the dance floor on my way to the door, I see that one of them has a knife. There's some chick standing between the would-be brawlers in a tiny halter-top and a skirt that barely covers her ass. From what I can hear, she's been dating them both.

Oh, how sad. She's crying.

Slut.

I decide to take my leave before I see someone get cut and lose control. It's hard for me to stay calm in a fight, especially when someone gets hurt. As I walk towards the door, I walk by a few tables in the darkest corner of the club. Someone grabs a hold of the tail of my coat.

I hear a distorted voice, like someone who is trying to talk with two cigarettes in his mouth. "Where you going, belladonna? The fun is just about to begin."

I look over to see a man sitting in the dark. I have uncanny night vision, so I can see that his hair is black, like most of the people's here, but is done up in tiny spikes. Little ankhs decorate his red eyes and stretch across his black and white greasepainted face. His extremely skinny body is covered in a shiny latex bodysuit. The long nails at the ends of his bony fingers almost rip holes into my coat.

"Don't you want to watch the blood run?" He grins at me, showing a pair of long tooth caps that are too white to match his yellow, tartar-stained teeth. It seems that the thing I was looking for has found me.

I roll my eyes and snatch my coat from his grasp. These posers love it if you resist their "charms" a little. "I'm not particularly thrilled with being a witness to murder, thank you. If you want to watch the blood run, perhaps you should take me back to your place." I lower my shades and give him a knowing wink. The man sits back and pats the chair beside him. I look back at the dance floor and see that the bouncers have finally gotten off their lazy asses to break up the fight. A sigh of relief escapes my lips.

"Oh, what a pity. Less dinner for me, eh?" The man's grin gets wider as I sit down beside him and take off my shades. His grin is so wide that I'm almost scared that the top of his head will fall off. His finger slides under my chin and lifts it as he evaluates me. "But I think you'll more than make up for it, belladonna."

I find a smile creeping up on my face, but control it. "And what makes you think I'll come along willingly, my dear?"

"Because I'm the 9th generation Malkavian prince of this city, child. And I always get what I want."

"Malkavian? So you play Vampire: The Masquerade?"

"Play it? I live it, you foolish thing! And you shall join me in eternal night after I am done."

"Then you're for real?" My eyes widen in mock surprise. I bring my hands to my face and pretend that I'm going to scream. I let the man cup my mouth to keep me from doing it.

"Don't bother screaming, belladonna. It won't work. I run this town." He removes his hand, running a finger down my cheek. "Hmm. Your skin is rather cold. Are you in good health?"

I lower my voice to a whisper. "I was sitting under the air conditioner."

The man removes his hand from my face and puts an arm around me. He looks out at the mass of humanity jiggling around on the dance floor as if the fight never happened. His eyes narrow in contempt. "These people! All absorbed in their petty concerns when they're really our cattle! Soon the Sabbat will overthrow the Camarilla and vampires will take their rightful place as masters of these humans."

Again, I fight back a smile. He must have memorized the whole sourcebook. "Seems like you've got a good handle on your character."

The look of contempt leaves the man's face, giving way to boyish glee. Kind of like the look you would expect from a third grader that won first prize at the science fair for his volcano. "You think so?"

"Yes, I do. I'm familiar with the game myself."

"So who's your character? Mine's Dicky Richards."

"Aurora Knight."

"Cool." Dicky's eyebrows arch up in suggestiveness. "So you wanna be a vampire too?"

"Sure, why not? But let's get out of here. This place sucks."

We both get up to walk out of the club, leaving Megadeath to entertain the lifeless, wiggling husks on the dance floor. Outside, the air tastes a lot sweeter than the smoke-filled sweatshop quality air in the club. The weak neon "Ricky's" sign hanging above us makes the white portion of Dicky's greasepaint design a sickening shade of green. I allow the wind to blow my trenchcoat open so he can see my body. He grins at me again as his red eyes rove over my muscular figure.

Dicky shivers as we start to walk from the club. Latex doesn't provide much protection against the cold New York wind. He crosses his arms in front of him to keep warm as he falls into step with me. My boots clack loudly on the sidewalk as I stick my hands in my coat pockets. I just kick the trash on the street aside, staring straight ahead. A few hurried steps from Dicky get me to slow down. I forget how fast I walk sometimes. Dicky's almost bouncing like a little puppy dog beside me. Whether it's to keep himself warm or because he's happy to be with me, I don't know. I don't really care, to tell the truth.

"So, Aurora." The way he sighs instead of speaks my name makes me think that he's infatuated with it. "Do you think there are real vampires?"

I shrug, noncommittal. "My dad believed in them. Said he met one while stationed in France. That was before I was born."

"Really?"

"Yes. He told me that he dated a girl that would only see him at night. Then one day she revealed what she was. But my dad told her about my mom and how much he loved her, and the vampire let him go. Said he still contacts the woman from time to time."

"And you believed it?"

"I did when I was a kid. He got letters and stuff from someone in France. Even let me read a few. But as I grew older, I realized it was just one of those fairy stories parents tell their kids, like Santa Claus or the Easter Bunny."

Dicky puts his arm around me and pulls me close to him. The warmth of his body feels inviting. If I still cared about love and all that happy bullshit, I would kiss him through the greasepaint. Under that freakishness, I'm sure he's a decent-looking man. Hell, he's probably a nice guy, someone I probably would have dated in high school.

"So it was a bogus story?"

"I guess it was. One time, I met the woman that my dad wrote to. She didn't look like a harbinger of the damned. I guess she was just an old girlfriend and my dad just embellished on that part of his life."

"Where's your dad now?" Dicky's breath comes out in a white cloud as he speaks. It's a wonder why he's not frozen.

"He's dead." I cross my arms after turning up the collar of my coat. There's no white cloud of breath when I speak. As I allow his arm to draw me closer to him, I look straight ahead. Perhaps he's trying to comfort me. Out of the corner of my eye, I see his eyes soften in sympathy.

"I'm sorry to hear that." He looks away for a second, hiding his fake fangs in his mopey face of concern. Then he leans forward slightly, searching my face for any emotion, but finds none. I can feel my jaw tightening. He's starting to care about me. That makes me nervous.

I need to calm down. Control myself.

"So do you believe in vampires, Dicky?"

"No, but it's fun to pretend." There is a short pause between us. "Speaking of which, Aurora, where are we going?"

"I don't care." I start picking up my pace. Maybe hooking up with this man was a mistake. But Dicky is a persistent little bastard and quickens his step to keep up. His arm returns to my shoulders. He grins at me again, showing his pearly white toothcaps.

"Forget it, belladonna. You're not getting rid of me now. We Malkavians never leave our obsessions alone."

Another smile escapes me. "Am I your obsession then?"

The grin never leaves Dicky's face. "You are now, my dear. Perhaps you should entertain me by telling me about your Embrace."

The smile playing on my face suddenly disappears. "My Embrace?"

Dicky rolls his eyes, as if I just asked him how to operate an elevator. "Yeah, how you became a vampire. How did it happen?"

I look down at the concrete sidewalk as I get into my role and mentally prepare myself to tell the story like I have told it so many times before in my own coterie. My eyes look up at the stars as I quickly run through a mental outline of the story.

"Well, like I said, my dad believed in vampires. Even after I realized the story was mostly a fairy tale, he still told the story to me. By the time I was in high school, I started to tune him out whenever he told it. I also tuned him out when he started telling me the moral of the story. That vampires were everywhere and, if I wasn't careful, would get taken by one."

Dicky's smile curls up as he starts hanging on every word. Maybe he'll be smitten with my storytelling abilities in addition to my looks. "Looks like he was right."

I again find myself starting to smile. But this time, it's a bitter one. "Yes, he was. Well, it wasn't an actual vampire that made the shit hit the fan. It was a group of punks." I bow my head. If I had tears left to shed, I probably would cry right now. This part of the story actually happened. "It was pretty weird. I had been to all the self-defense classes. I knew all the rules about being street safe and not talking to strangers. Always aware of my surroundings and all that crap. But, one day, I was going to the store to run some errands, and all that went straight to hell."

I pause for a second, trying to choke down my rage. When I continue, my voice is full of anger. "A guy came up to me. Normal-enough looking. Asked me the time. And I gave it to him. Then these four other men jumped me from behind and beat the living hell of me. I don't remember much of what actually happened. I remember my clothes being ripped off and being kicked and punched. And for what seemed like forever, the feeling of someone trying to rip me apart like a damned wishbone. Someone put their crotch in my face and practically smothered me. Then something ripping through my throat and everything becoming a red haze."

Dicky's stupid grin never leaves his face. "So they Embraced you, then?"

"No." My voice gains a hint of irritation. "They left me there for dead. I remember one of them saying, 'What a waste.' Like it was a fucking joke. Really damn hilarious." I sigh, calming down again. "Before I finally blacked out, I saw someone coming to help me." The bitterness comes back again. "Some help."

"Was that the one that Embraced you?"

What is Dicky's obsession with the Embrace part of the story? "Yes, Dicky. That was the one that Embraced me." I backtrack through my mind to remember at which point I'm at in the story. "I came to in a nicely decorated room. I was lying on one of those couches you see in a psychiatrist's office. I had been cleaned up and was wearing a dark blue gown."

"Was it shut off from the sunlight?" Dicky continues to bounce up and down to keep warm. It's a wonder that he hasn't already given up on me to seek shelter.

"Yes. There were heavy purple curtains on the windows." I draw my coat closed around me and cross my arms, pretending that the cold is getting to me as well.

"No, the windows should be boarded up."

"Okay, they were boarded up. The curtains covered the boards to make it look hospitable. Better?"

"Much. Continue."

I roll my eyes as I again pause to regain my train of thought. I notice clouds are gathering in the sky, covering the stars. "Well, I would have thought that they were nice digs if I wasn't scared shitless. Standing near a desk, there was a man in a white linen suit and bright blue silk shirt. He was kind of handsome in a cold sort of way. I could tell part of him was Asian. He had long black hair pulled back in a ponytail and almond-shaped brown eyes. He was just standing there sipping at a wine glass and watching me. Something in me was screaming. It was like I was starving, but I didn't want any food."

"Wow!" Dicky seems fascinated as I tell my story. How can he gain such excitement from it? "This is such a great tale. Your roleplay group must be a really good one for you to tell it so vividly. I can almost see the guy now. What's his name?"

"Yeah, my group is pretty fucking vivid all right. The guy's name is Alex Brujah. He's my Sire."

"Let me guess: His bloodline is Brujah." Dicky seems sarcastic. It seems odd coming from him.

"I guess he's was pretty devoted to his bloodline. Even proud of being a part of it. But getting back to the story: Alex approached me with a second wineglass and offered it to me. I took the wineglass and downed the contents. The thing screaming inside me stopped. Then I demanded to know where I was and how I had gotten there. The loudness of my own voice surprised me. Alex smiled at me and all my attention was focused on that smile. Suddenly he was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen."

Dicky nodded in response. "Sounds like Presence. Coupled with the resultant Blood Bond that comes from the exchanging of blood in the Embrace, and he probably could have made you his slave."

"I think he was using Presence just to keep me calm. He sat beside me and was stroking my hair and rubbing my body, telling me how beautiful I looked. He had a velvet blue choker with an ankh attached to it." I point to the choker around my throat and wink. Dicky smiles his approval. "He clasped it around my throat, telling me that he had given me a powerful gift. He said that I was now part of a proud legacy. He had saved my life and given me a new one as a Brujah. Of course, I didn't know what a Brujah was, so he explained about the thirteen Clans and the legacy of Caine and the commandments of the Kindred and all that stuff. Never once mentioned that 'Kindred' was another word for 'vampire.' I probably wouldn't have believed him if he told me I was a vampire."

"So how did you figure it out?"

I look at the sky again. The clouds are getting a lot thicker. Being early Saturday night in the party district of town, I'm surprised to see no one besides an occasional passed-out drunk on the street. I guess everyone is inside, only concerned with how much fun they can squeeze out of an evening. A couple of cars pass as we continue to walk, but other than that Dicky and I are alone. "He asked if I would like another drink and I said that I would. Instead of taking my glass to refill it, he pulled a woman out from behind the desk. She was bleeding from the neck and nearly unconscious. Unlike the two neat little puncture wounds that you see in the movies, it looked like half of her throat had been ripped out."

"Yikes. That must have been harsh, Aurora." Dicky's eyes are glued to me. The smile on his face seems genuine. He's enjoying this story.

"It was; and I was repulsed. And Alex quickly changed, demanding that I drink from her. He grabbed my hair and pushed my face into her throat. He was gorgeous, but I then realized that he was pure ugliness within." I find my own eyes blinking away tears that never come.

"Hey, this is getting good." Dicky runs his tongue over his fake fangs, still trembling from the cold a little. "Go on."

"I took him and myself by surprise. I actually overpowered Alex, who probably outweighed me by 80 pounds, and threw him against the wall. Then I ripped the boards off the window and jumped out of it."

"Hold on, Aurora. You overpowered an elder vampire? That's not possible."

I'm starting to get really annoyed at Dicky's interruptions here. "Sure it is. Alex concentrated all his efforts in learning Presence."

"But couldn't he have stopped you using Presence?"

"I guess Alex was shocked that I could get my enhanced strength and speed so soon after being Embraced. My own shock didn't set in until later."

Dicky shrugs satisfied with the explanation. "So what did you do after you escaped? Did he come after you later? Any Sire that would let a pretty thing like you escape has to be madder than anyone in my clan." Dicky's arm moves from my shoulders to my waist, pulling me closer so that I can feel the heat from his body. Though he is trembling outside from the cold, his body is still warm. I find myself imagining what it would be like to have that warmth inside of me. His fake fangs scratching my soft skin. His warm wet tongue exploring my body. Our bodies moving as one as he enters me. The image is enjoyable. It's the first time since being raped that I have found the image even palatable. My arm snakes around his waist and we lean on each other. I wonder if my dad's French girlfriend felt the same way about my dad.

"Alex left me alone for a while. Maybe he was watching to see how I would do on my own. The first few days were rough. I kept trying to go to sleep at night like a normal person, but no matter what I did, I couldn't. Then when the daylight hit, I was out. My room was an interior room - no windows. So I could delude myself into thinking I was not one of the Kindred. I kept making excuses for my behavior. Told my dad that I had a bad case of the flu when he came to check on me."

Dicky's face gathered as I again evaluated the clouds blanketing the city. "Your dad believed in vampires. Didn't he recognize the signs of a vampire? Did he take your temperature or your pulse?"

"Actually he didn't. He spent most of the day working at the auto shop. He owned it and I helped him run it, but with me out of commission with the 'flu,' he was stuck doing all the work. By the time he got home at night, he was too tired to ask questions."

"So what finally made you realize that you were truly Kindred?"

I look around me and draw Dicky towards the opening of a convenient dark alley. Snow starts falling in heavy clumps from the blanket of clouds above. The flakes stick to Dicky's spiked hair and decorate my wavy mane like diamonds. As Dicky trembles, he grins again, showing those tooth caps of his. A hunter must be dedicated to the hunt if he is to capture his prey. I smile, but this time I don't fight it.

"Well, you know we Kindred can't go for more than a few days without vitae before the Beast overcomes us. No matter what we do, our hunger for blood surpasses our attempts to fight it. Survival is the only meaning to our lives."

"That's true, belladonna. But that doesn't answer the question. How did you finally realize your gift?"

My smile doesn't leave my face, though I cringe at the word "gift." I come closer to Dicky, bringing him into the alley. "Well, one night, I left the apartment. I was driven crazy with hunger, but every time I ate something, I'd puke it all up. It was like my body was not my own anymore. I had been sitting in my room thinking about the rape. Alex cleaned me up, so I had no evidence against the bastards that did it to me. And it was making me angry. Angrier than I ever thought I was capable of being."

Dicky wraps his long arms around me, looking deeply into my eyes. His greasepainted lips start kissing my face. He starts on my forehead and kisses my eyes, nose and cheeks. He presses himself against me and I can feel the warmth between his legs. I almost stop talking, but wanting him to hear the rest, I continue. Maybe this was what my father was thinking about when he told me the vampire story as a child.

"I left the apartment in a kind of haze. And I searched the rapists out. I found a couple of them at Ricky's. Another I found sitting at home drinking beer and watching television. And the last one, the one that slit my throat, recognized me and tried to run me over with his car."

"Didn't work, did it?" Dicky's hands start to wander over my body, his long nails lightly running over my back. I allow myself a small chuckle.

"No, it didn't. I beat the living hell out of all four of them. I treasured every scream they made, every wiggle, every bone cracking, every squishy noise their internal organs made as I ripped them out in alphabetical order."

"Did you drink their blood?"

"I didn't think to do that. Their blood stunk. It reeked of pot and alcohol. I didn't drink from my first human until I got home."

Dicky stops kissing me long enough to hear the rest of the story, but his hands keep my body close to his. The warmth radiating from his body is intoxicating. I can hardly control myself. "So what happened when you got home?"

"My father was waiting up for me. I came home covered in blood and guts. His face had no color at all. The Beast was already running rampant through me. All he did is utter my name and I charged him like a savage animal. I ripped his throat out with my teeth and buried my face into the wound, drinking his vitae until he stopped breathing."

"Ouch."

My voice starts trembling as I continue. Dicky's fingers run through my hair as his lips gently kiss my cheek. "Then I looked up. And there was Alex. His cold eyes stared at me as my father lay dying. He told me that he had told my father everything about us. Alex wanted to Embrace him for me. But I looked down at my father's face, the look of shock frozen onto it. I wouldn't let Alex curse him like he had me."

"So you let your father die? You wouldn't share your gift of eternal life?"

"Alex reprimanded me to no end for that. Reminded me of the story my dad kept telling me. How my dad had denied 'the gift' once, but was willing to accept it now that I had it. How so few get this 'opportunity' even once in their lives. I got sick of hearing it. And I threw him around the house like a rag doll."

Dicky pulls away from me. I'm actually a little disappointed that he's not pleased. "Hold on. Wouldn't Alex have been able to overpower you now that he knew to expect it?" As if sensing my disappointment, Dicky moves some of my unruly hair out of my eyes. He looks deeply into my eyes and gently strokes my cheek with cold fingers.

"Remember that his strength and speed are not much more advanced that an average human's. All his concentration is in Presence. After I kicked his ass, he never brought the issue up again."

Dicky smiles as his arms draw me tight against him. The ankhs on his face are smeared a little from kissing me. There is a long, thin streak of clear skin running through the greasepaint from his eye to his chin. I never notice the snow covering the ground as I relish the warm, heavy cloud of his breath against my face. I feel alive. More alive than I ever have been since my virtue was taken from me.

"That was a great story, belladonna. Perhaps we should get together to play the game." He presses his lips against mine. I lean my head back as his lips continue kissing me, rounding my chin and coming down to my throat. He removes the choker from my throat, and starts to kiss and lick the scar. He suddenly pulls away when he finds that my neck has absolutely no warmth. Or a pulse.

This time I grin, showing a pair of fangs perfectly matching my teeth. Before he can run, I pick him up by his bodysuit and slam him against the wall. He sinks to the snow-covered ground, the wind knocked out of him. "Sorry, Dicky. I don't play games." He doesn't make a sound as I pounce on top of him, biting his throat and hungrily lapping up the blood that spurts out. The warmth from his body seeps into my cold husk of a corpse until I pull away satiated. The look of shock is the same as my father's as the blood seeps from his throat and stains the new snow.

"Don't feel bad, Dick. At least you got to see the blood run." I shudder from the coldness in my voice. The brief moment of normalcy I had is quickly gone. I try not to think about what he could have become or about the people that will miss him. But I can't help it and I soon regret what I have done. I hate myself. A figure steps out from the shadows as I take the velvet choker from Dicky's hand and wipe away the greasepaint that rubbed off of his face and onto mine. I give the figure a small grunt of annoyance in greeting. I turn around to see my Sire, Alex, as I replace the choker around my neck.

"You seem sorrowful about this one, my dear. Will you Embrace him or just let him die?" His voice is colder than any New York winter wind.

"I refuse to make anyone a vampire. So quit asking."

"Forever the saint, Aurora. We do only what we do to survive. Those of us who have the courage to survive anyway."

"Shut up, Alex. It don't make me feel any better about it."

I leave Alex and Dicky alone in the alley. Alex can do whatever he wants to the dying wannabe. My boots make soft crunching sounds on the sidewalk as I walk through the freezing blanket of snow covering the street. More snow quickly covers my footprints, making me nothing more than a figment of someone's imagination. A nightmare that you are sure you will wake up from. Or just a fairy tale that your father told you as a kid.

Vampires do exist, Daddy. Damn you for being right.