*
Stone traced the faint scar that wound from the base of his jaw around to the other side of his neck with his thumb. He coughed once at the painful memory and tried to push it away.
He absently noticed that he was being given a wide berth by the crowd in the Night Machine. He had nearly two feet of clear space to both his right and left while rest of the bar swarmed with people. Many of them were trying pretend that he simply wasn't there as they poured more alcohol into their systems.
Stone stoically accepted this as he scanned the crowd for a lack of anything better to do. The bouncers who had helped out that girl were back now, resuming their proper places at the door. One of them nudged the other and gestured towards Stone, mentioning something. His buddy nodded his head enthusiastically and gave Stone a very respectful look.
Stone turned his gaze away with a grimace and tried to find something else to look at. The last thing that he wanted to do was draw attention to himself.
Several young women who had powdered their faces white and coloured their lips, eyes and hair black were looking at him approvingly. Stone contemplated going over and speaking with them for about a half second, but a faint twinge of the familiar pain stopped that thought before it even got started.
Kaitlin and Yule were back on the dance floor, trying to make the most of the remainder of the evening. It was well into April and the nights were starting to get noticeably shorter as summer approached. Not that Stone had anything against summertime, it was simply the lack of darkness that made him uneasy.
"Mr. Stone," spoke a vaguely familiar voice to his left. "Might I have word with you?"
Stone turned his head towards the voice and inwardly winced. Steve Masterson, the owner of the Night Machine and representative of Clan Malkavian stood there in all his splendor. He was not a terribly imposing man, but to look at his appearance was like trying to understand what Picasso was thinking of whenever he painted.
A touch over six feet in height and maybe one hundred and fifty pounds in
weight. His hair was in different lengths and colours, depending of course on which side of his head you were looking at. Several earrings were dangling from each ear and a chain connected his left ear to his nose. Military style boots, one was without a lace while the other was covered with a steel plate. Multicoloured and patched pants, with a shirt that appeared to be made of fishnets. A leather jacket with bright, but disjointed doodlings airbrushed over practically every inch. He wore a leather, forearm bracer on his left arm and chains wrapped around his right wrist. The dog collar was a new one as far as Stone could tell, he didn't recognize it.
Taking a deep breath, Stone swallowed his pride and put what passed for a smile on his face. "What can I do for you, Steve?"
The Malkav grinned impulsively and threw an arm over Stone's shoulders. Stone tensed slightly but didn't react in any other way.
"I just wanted to thank you for helping to keep the peace earlier," Steve said in a conspiratorial whisper, as if passing on some super secret information.
"You're welcome," Stone said, trying to slide away from the Malkav without him noticing. "If that's all ..."
"But that's not all!" Steve exclaimed, jumping back from Stone suddenly and bumping into several of his clientele. The people looked at him a bit strangely, but Steve didn't seem to notice. "I wanted to repay you!"
Stone became very wary and resisted the impulse to find someplace to hide. "How so?"
Steve waved one hand in front of himself jerkily, as if unaware he was even doing it. "No, don't worry, it's nothing too crazy," Stone highly doubted that. "I just wanted you to know that I pay my debts. I don't need any stupid Seneschal or Prince or Harpy telling me that I owe somebody a boon when I know very plainly that I do."
"Well," Stone rasped in a reasonable tone of voice. "That's very noble of you. But it's really unnecessary. I wasn't trying to put myself in your debt ... "
The Malkavian's face got suddenly very dark. He stepped nose to nose with Stone and stared menacingly into the bigger man's eyes. "Are you saying that you're too good to receive something from me?" he asked in a threatening voice that was more than slightly tinged with insanity.
Stone held the gaze for a long moment, giving himself a moment to think of the best possible response. Finally, he relented. "Not at all Mr. Masterson. If you feel the need to repay me for freely given assistance, I welcome it."
His face brightened immediately. "Great!" He then turned and motioned to his bartender who came trotting right over. "Mark, I want you make sure that my friend Stone gets free drinks from my special stock whenever he wants. Not just tonight, but every night. Is that understood?"
Mark nodded, giving Stone a knowing glance. "Of course, Mr. Masterson," He then went back behind the bar, preparing Stone's first drink.
Stone narrowed his eyes suspiciously at the Malkavian after the bartender was gone. "I don't have to worry about your special stock, do I?"
Steve shot back a hurt look. "The blood's clean," he assured Stone with a faint tone of exasperation. "I drain it fresh from my ghouls every evening."
Stone was still unconvinced.
Steve threw out his hands expansively, unknowingly knocking over one of his waitresses. "Just because I'm a bit crazy doesn't mean that I'm stupid! I try to run a legitimate business here. Besides," he added as an abashed afterthought. "My Primogen Bean would kill me if I did anything to make you Brujah any more mad at us than you already are."
Stone relaxed a bit. "My apologies, Steve," he said with another faint smile. "I guess I've got no reason to mistrust you."
Steve shrugged as Mark came back with a huge mug. Steve took it from the bartender and served it to Stone himself. "Ah, well," he sighed lustily. "What are you gonna do?" He then snapped his gaze to his left wrist and checked the time from a watch that wasn't there. "Dear God!" he exclaimed loudly. "I have to play the bagpipes now! Enjoy your drink." And with that, Steve Masterson dashed off into the crowd hollering for his wife Scarlett to fetch his pipes.
Stone shook his head with a sigh as the Malkavian sprinted off and turned his attention to liquid filled mug in front of him.
Stone sniffed cautiously at the dark blood. It smelled clean. Tasting it on the tip of his tongue reassured him that it was not tampered with and definitely human. Chilled too.
Draining the mug in one long pull gave Stone a brief headrush as the now familiar surge of energy surged through to every corner of his being. From the tips of his fingers to the roots of his hair he felt the life fill him. The scuffle had taken more out of him than it should have, but Stone shrugged it off. He had been angry and, consequently, had gotten a bit overzealous in his rage. It's not like I broke the Masquerade or anything, he reassured himself.
Yule and Kaitlin left the dance floor then, taking up positions on either side of him at the bar.
"What was that all about between you and Steve?" Kaitlin asked curiously as she scanned the faces of the other people at the bar.
Stone looked at the mug in his hand and placed it down before answering. "Just a bit of inter-Clan politicking."
Yule clapped his friend on the shoulder with a friendly laugh. "That's th' way Stoney. Business and pleasure in one night. Just th' way it should be."
"What pleasure?" Kaitlin interrupted with a frown. "He just stood around all night. He didn't even dance once."
Both Stone and Yule looked at each other briefly before turning back to the Gangrel. "Trust me, Kaitlin," Stone said bluntly. "You don't want to see me dance." Yule shook his head vehemently to emphasize the point.
"Oh, whatever," Kaitlin shrugged. She turned to Yule then. "Let's get out of here, this place is boring me."
Stone easily suppressed the urge to grin as he watched his friend sigh wearily. "Where d' ya want t' go now?" Yule asked, just slightly exasperated.
Kaitlin shrugged again. "I dunno. Someplace downtown." Then, as if everything had been decided, she spun on her heel and walked toward
s the door. Yule held both of his arms out to the sides and looked to the ceiling, silently pleading with the heavens for some sort of positive response.
He didn't get one.
Over the noise of the nightclub, Steve Masterson began playing the bagpipes with a surprising amount of skill and no lack of enthusiasm.
Yule's expression became pained. "She's tryin' t'drive me mad, isn't she?"
Stone nodded slightly and pat his friend's shoulder, pushing him after Kaitlin.
Once out on the street, Stone adjusted his bandanna and slipped on his Ray Bans before crossing the street to catch up with the now bickering Yule and Kaitlin. He fished around in his overcoat pockets until he found a fresh toothpick which he quickly inserted into his mouth.
With very few exceptions, the Osborne Village in Winnipeg had to be one of the more interesting places that Stone had ever been to. It was considered to be a poorer area of the city by everyone who didn't live in or around it. But Stone found that it was undeniably rich in culture and friendship. Everyone was at least passingly friendly with everybody else, be they squeegee kids trying to earn a buck or two from passing tourists or older folks who just liked paying cheaper rent in an area that was close to downtown.
As he trotted after Yule and Kaitlin, Stone tried to think of a good reason to go off on his own so that he wouldn't have deal with hearing their petty bickering. It wasn't that he didn't care, he just was tired of dealing with it all of the time.
Turning a deaf ear to their conversation Stone focused his attention on Yule's van. It was an older model Ford that had been only slightly modified. The body was now mostly bulletproof and there was a small armory under the back seat. When Stone had asked Yule about the necessity of the armory, his friend had shrugged broadly and said, "Well, y' can never be too careful."
"Why can't I drive?" Kaitlin asked indignantly as Yule unlocked her door.
Stone could hear Yule sigh even as he slid into the back seat. "Because it's my van."
"But I'm a good driver," she insisted angrily.
Stone covered his eyes with one hand. The argument was always the same. The topic was usually different, but the flow was always identical.
Yule would make a seemingly innocent comment or ask a harmless question.
Kaitlin would immediately take a defensive stance, alarmed that her boyfriend would dare to question her well thought out motives and plans.
Yule would then assure her that he wasn't trying to offend her.
Kaitlin would take offense to that, wondering why he offended her if he didn't mean to offend her and assume that he's keeping something from her.
Yule then tries to apologize for whatever he said that was wrong.
Kaitlin then takes offense to the fact that he doesn't know what he said that was wrong.
Yule then asks how he's supposed to know what he said that was so wrong if she won't tell him why she's upset.
Kaitlin then tells him to shut up.
Yule shuts up for a minute.
Kaitlin sulks.
Yule would try to say something stupid to cheer her up.
Kaitlin tells him to shut up.
Yule would try this same losing tactic a couple more times.
Kaitlin tells him to shut up a couple more times.
Yule finally loses his temper and begins to snipe.
Kaitlin then snipes right back.
Stone sighed wearily. It was always the same.
Yule quickly drove the van through the crowded streets of the Village and made his way to the Donald Street overpass. Kaitlin and Yule were still bickering slightly, interrupted occasionally by Yule's screamed out insistence that the people of Winnipeg should "learn t' fucking drive or get off th' Goddamned road!" But Stone still wasn't really listening to what was being said. He was busying his mind by counting the number of tiles in the roof of Yule's van.
"Stoney," Yule called, trying to get his attention. "What d'you think about ..."
"Leave him out of this," Kaitlin interrupted harshly. "This is between you and me, Yule."
"But, I just wanted his opinion on ..."
"No, you just want him to agree with you so that you can feel justified about what you're saying."
"That's not what I meant."
"Isn't it?"
"No, it's not."
"Then, what is ..."
The van suddenly lurched to one side with a loud squeal of metal on metal.
"What in the hell?" Yule exclaimed as Kaitlin yelped in surprise.
Stone braced himself and looked out the side window. There was a black BMW being driven by some punk, keeping pace with them on their right. The car seemed to be full of people as they sideswiped the van again.
"Christ!" Yule swore, trying to avoid the rest of the traffic with little success. An early motorcyclist was forced off the road and smashed through the front window of the Canada Trust building.
"What do these guys think they're doing?" Kaitlin yelled, swiveling madly in her seat, trying to get a better view.
"Kaitlin! Sit th' fuck down!"
Stone looked out the other window and saw at least two other cars trying to surround the van. Driving one of the other cars was O-Ball.
Yule swore at the top of his lungs, as he frantically slid the van through traffic.
"I guess they couldn't wait until tomorrow!" Kaitlin snarled ferally.
Stone did a quick head count and estimated at least five cars now, with a minimum of four punks per car. "They've brought some friends," he said as the van was rocked again.
Yule tromped on the gas and simply tried to outrun the self-proclaimed Street Masters. But the thugs were driving smaller vehicles with greater maneuverability. They easily kept pace with the van, ramming it from all sides. They crossed Portage Avenue en masse, causing several minor accidents and a great deal of confusion.
Gunfire sounded as some of the gang members began to shoot at the van.
"These boys're gettin' serious," Yule muttered as Kaitlin started to growl. Stone was simply trying to keep from getting bounced around like a pinball.
Several bullets ricocheted harmlessly off of the van's armoured hide with great showers of sparks. Suddenly, one shell managed to spiderweb the windshield from the inside.
"Jesus, Kaitlin! Roll up yer' Goddamned window! I can't see now!"
"Just drive, Yule!" Kaitlin hollered as she grudgingly rolled up her window.
Stone reached under his seat then and pulled out the strongbox holding Yule's small armoury. He wrenched it open, snapping off the latch in his haste. He was then thrown to the side of the van as Yule swerved onto Ellice Avenue, slamming one of the gang's cars up onto the sidewalk.
"Try to keep her steady," Stone shouted as he prepped one of the automatic rifles.
As the van swerved and lurched, Stone steadied himself on one knee and slid open the van's side door. The nearest BMW saw what he was doing and pulled even with the van. The driver looked in the van and Stone had the privilege of seeing the haughty look slide right off of his face as brought the up the M-60.
Stone opened fire. Bullets tore through the driver of the BMW and took out the punk in the passenger side as well. He could clearly hear the remainder of the car's occupants scream as he ejected the empty cartridge into the street.
The BMW swerved dangerously out of control and angled directly into the van's path. Yule grimly floored the gas and drove straight ahead.
The impact spun the BMW away crazily. And, with a terrified scream from the remaining passengers that all three of them could easily hear, the runaway car crashed headlong into the Olde Spaghetti Factory. Five seconds after the crash, the car exploded in a ball of fire.
Another solid impact from the other side of the van caused Stone to lose his balance and almost fall out the open door. As it was, his rifle clattered to the street leaving him unarmed and vulnerable. With a heave Stone forced himself back into the van. He looked forward and tried to see through the badly cracked win
dshield as the van was hit once again.
"I've lost control!" Yule shouted. The van careened over a curbside and smashed through a small fence. Tree branches snapped and flew away the van continued on it's wayward plunge.
"We're gonna crash!" Kaitlin hollered through grated teeth as she braced herself for impact.
Stone said nothing and curled himself up into a ball, quietly preparing for the worst.
The van swerved awkwardly up a small flight of stairs before slamming headlong into one of the concrete pillars to the Market Stage in the Exchange District.