World of Darkness World of Darkness: Attrition - College Rocks

[Lucien Hunt]

Nine AM in the home of most college students was a rush to wake up, grab a bite and frantically make it out the door to work, or class. Nine AM in the home of Lucien Hunt, college student, was another matter entirely.

Rosalind, Lucien’s housekeeper (read: maid), a twenty-five year old Columbian beauty had already been up for a few hours preparing his itinerary and breakfast. Her ‘uniform’ (if it could be called that) was something right from the pages of a Fredrick’s of Hollywood catalog. Satin black and lacey white covered as little of her body as possible accent it with an abundance of cleavage, garters, and stiletto heels that could in no way be comfortable.

Rhythmically Lucien skipped down the stairs, rounded the corner, and rolled his eyes. “Good morning Rosalind.” A hint of irritation could already be in his voice.

“Morn’in master Hunt.” She smiled with crimson lips and a perfect pearly smile.

“Roz, why are you wearing that?” Gesturing at her ensemble the young millionaire’s hand lazily flopped back to his side. “We’ve been through this.”

A bar that served as the morning breakfast center separated the simple dining area and the impressive kitchen; as Lucien pulled up a stool, Rosalin set down fresh glass of milk accompanied by a balanced breakfast of eggs, bacon, and salted, buttered bagel.

“You are right, master Hunt, we have.” Her heels clacked on the floor tiles while she moved to the fridge to collect the orange juice. “And, forgive me, but this what your father calls a ‘uniform’. As long as he pays my salary – and a large salary it is – I’m afraid I must do what I signed on to do.”

“My dad isn’t here, I make the rules in the house remember?” He hated pulling weight, Lucien was a nice guy and while he certainly agreed with the world at large that Rosalind was one gorgeous woman, he didn’t see any reason to degrade her to wearing that while performing her duties. “I told you I wouldn’t tell him. Jeans and a t-shirt are fine by me.”

She smiled and tilted her head to one side. “That’s sweet,” she said as a full days supply of vitamin C poured into a glass in front of her on the bar. “I understand how you feel master Hunt, but this job pays too well, and is too easy,” he winked at him. Lucien cleaned up after himself most of the time, even did his own laundry and sometimes cooked his own meals. Aside from the occasional late night peanut butter and jelly sandwich, Rosalind really didn’t have to do much in the home but look as sexy as possible. “For me to risk your father stopping by, seeing me out of uniform and firing me. I’m sorry.”

She was right. Lucien’s father had control over people because he had money, and he believed that money allows a person to treat someone else like garbage. “Yeah, good point. Sorry for bringing it up, again.”

“It’s okay. It’s sweet that you care so much. So, how did your date with that pretty redhead go? Movies okay?” She tipped her orange juice up and sipped, looking over the rim of the glass with those exotic brown Columbian eyes.

“Turns out she’s a pre-med vampire raised by werewolves, sent by werewolves, hunting a possible werewolf.” His words flowed like a calm stream, never stopping to take a breath or change his tone. “She enjoys the outdoors, sleeps in the earth, and enjoys my company because I’m delicious and a psychic who can read minds, talk to parrots, and I never lose my car keys.”

Rosalind choked on her orange juice. Her eyes grew wide and she could do nothing but gawk at the playboy underwear model as he continued to chew a crispy slice of bacon with an expression so casual that only practiced lawyers could have pulled it off better.

“Uhh…” The lovely woman struggled for a verbal foothold. “Erm…”

“I know.” Lucien agreed with her tripped up train of thought. “And to think, the semester hasn’t even started yet. I’m so going love it here. College rocks.” He chewed his breakfast with a smile overflowing with childhood mirth.

[Lucien Hunt]

As the morning hours ticked by Lucien sat in the kitchen, lost in study. Three books lay upon the table and he simultaneously read and took notes from all three. A complex web of patterns were scribbled across nearly sixty pages in the three hours he studied. He barely noticed Rosalind's heels upon the tiled floor as she made numerous passes to refill his juice glass, today it was pineapple.

"Hunt, honey," Rosalind finally asked from across the bar while cutting up lunch meat for sandwiches. "What is it you're doing? That's a lot of studying."

"All truths are easy to understand once they are discovered, Rosalind," Looking up from his book his deadpan expression added nothing but a profound notation to end of his statement. "The point is to discover them."

"Leonardo DiVinci?" She guessed with such a gorgeous smile the every time Lucien saw it he couldn't help but think she was flirting with him.

"Galileo Galilei." Lucien smiled bobbing his pen in her direction it the classic 'nice try though' gesture.

"So, what truths are you out to uncover?" Her inquiry, in fact everything she said always sounded sensual. "Hmm?"

"Yeah, and what's this shit about dating vampires?" A gruff New Jersey voiced asked as it crossed the threshold into the kitchen. "Hey, doll." The large man nodded to Rosalind.

Lou. Of all the people in Lucien's life Lou held a special place. Older than his father, but reputably twice as brutal. Age was kind to the man, allowing him to be gray, but fit and healthy. Born and bred on the mean streets of Jersey, Lou was a no nonsense man who never pulled his punches. He's been watching after Lucien since he was ten. Some felt he was more of a father to Lucien than his own.

"She told you huh?" He glared at Roz with a half grin on his face.

"He's quite charming master Hunt, please forgive me," Roz slipped into a desperate Columbian refugee accent that she enjoyed using at moments just like these. "He's bald, and you know how bald men are my weakness." Gripping Lou's ears she left a crimson lip print on the top of his head.

"I'll bet." Lucien laughed. "She's a pre-med student, Lou. And we're not dating, it's purely sexual. Since her classes keep her busy pretty much all day she only gets time to hang out after hours."

"And this shit about werewolves?" He asked, twisting the cap off a beer bottle.

"Roz'll believe anything. Since you both report back to my father every little word I say, I figure I might as well have some fun with it at your expense. And she's so darn cute when she's speechless." His grin was wide as he took a drink of his pineapple juice.

"Very fuckin' funny kid." Lou gave him 'the finger', horizontally with the same hand holding his beer, he was probably the only man who could get away wit that sort of thing behavior or language of all the people on the Hunt payroll. Lucien silently applauded his ingenuity. "We figured you might be bull shittin' so dad don't know nuttin'. Jokes on you."

"Really. Me dating a vampire, being a psychic and mingling with werewolves..." He looked at them both, sarcasm lacing every word. "And you figured I might be messing with you? Wow, there's just no stopping your combined brain power."

A torrent of insults, laughter, and witty retorts echoed through the kitchen for several moments as the triad attempted to get a leg up on the others with well placed biting remarks.

Yeah... college does rock. the master of the home thought to himself as the laughter and camaraderie continued on around him.

[Lucien Hunt]

Relentlessly Lucien scrawled away on one note pad after the other. His pen vigorously scrawling complex patters an interweaving bubbles of text to other text in what appeared to be a intricate web of coded information. Six books were laying on his table now, two copies of each: Nosferatu: The Dirge, Lycanthrope: The Forlorn, and Warlock: The Rousing. All were published by the Black Dog Gaming Studios.

He'd completed the other two books and was working on the third. One copy of the triad would remain untouched, while he referred to his notes, factored equations, and then would take a thick black marker to one of the words on the pages of the volumes sister copy. Swiftly his mind, thanks to his only practiced Rote, allowed him to calculate the numbers, decipher the script, and quickly cross off word after word.

Table top roll playing game books was all they were, a simple dice rolling game allowing people an escape from reality by placing them in the shoes of some of storytimes favorite night time antagonists: vampires, werewolves and witches.

No, Lucien's thought's came with a subtle fear. No, no, no... this can't be right. Sweat beaded upon his brow as a nervousness settled over him. Never in his wild dreams would he have thought of pulling off a stunt like this a few months ago, but ever since his conversation with an actual vampire, Lucien's perceptions of the 'real world' were quickly getting rewritten.

When he'd picked up several pieces of research material and sat down to read Lucien discovered more than he ever imagined. The truth was indeed out there, and it was lying right under the noses of the very people Lucien was told he must never speak to about the supernatural.

The black marker went across the last word in the Warlock book. Lucien closed it and reached for his phone. He didn't begin the conversation wit pleasantries, compliments or hellos.

"Sarah," He said, fear still quivering in his voice. "We need to talk."

[Sarah Dead-Wolf]

Dammit! The guy was the perfect target. Alone, at night, in what she was coming to think of as her park, without an apparent care in the world and all the sense of awareness that Luna granted the average garden slug. Young, healthy, his veins practically pulsing... and only five short feet away when the damned cell phone went off like the Boston Pops Orchestra in her pocket.

Suddenly aware of another presence, Mr. Lunch glanced back at the previously unseen woman following him, suddenly decided that there were better places to be, and picked up his pace.

Answering the phone with an abrupt, "What?!?" Sarah was hit with Lucien's half-panicked statement. Annoyance didn't fade immediately, but concern did creep in around the edges.

"Jeez Lucien, you sound like hell. What the fuck is wrong?"

[Lucien Hunt]

"I know," he said. "I know about more of it than I should Sarah. The Gangrel, Blood Talons, Adamntine Arrows... all of it is right here." His tone border lined lunacy. "Get over here Sarah, I have to show you. This is so not good."

[Sarah Dead-Wolf]

"Oh...OH! Oh... fuck. Be right there." Snapping the phone shut, the undead creature broke into a run, tireless muscles pumping mechanically across a dozen or so blocks while her mind raced. How the fuck does he know all this? Cripes, I never mentioned my clan to him. Or the name of a tribe. And what the hell is an Adamantine Arrow?

The questions remained unanswered as she raced up to the gate, slamming the intercom with enough force to shift it slightly in its stainless steel frame. "Open up, it's Sarah!"

[Lucien Hunt]

Rosalind answered the door, glaring confused for a moment as to where the sudden drama came from. "Can I help you?" the Columbian beauty asked staring at Sarah who could only wonder why she was wearing such a ridiculous maids uniform.

"Roz!" Lucien shouted from him place on the staircase. "I called her, let her in."

Sarah could sense the seriousness of this issue.

A few minutes later the door to Lucien's study was closed and he handed her a book, Nosferatu: The Dirge.

"Take a look and tell me what you see Sarah." he requested.

[Sarah Dead-Wolf]

Taking the glossy hardcover in hand, Sarah looked at the rose petals amid the lurid crimson and said, "OK, I see a...." Then she caught the title. "...um..." Without another word, she began paging through the tome.

Five minutes later, the vampire was noticably more pale as she placed the book on a side table with all the care and concern of an EOD expert with a case of nitroglycerine. Dead eyes were filled with fear as they glanced up to meet the deep blue orbs of her host. "Where did you get this," she asked in a carefully even tone, "and are there any more like it?"

[Lucien Hunt]

"A hobby shop." Lucien replied. I know, it's dangerously close but just obscure enough with misleading information that nothing really hits home." He handed her the other copy, the sister book that was littered with black marks across selected words. "Take a look, I noticed a few discrepancies with the page layout. I did some research, and lo and behold this is what I find. It's an old fashioned encryption, not to difficult to crack, but if you didn't know what you were looking for, you'd never see it."

[Sarah Dead-Wolf]

Sarah took the redacted copy with all the enthusiasm of a hemophiliac in a razor blade factory. After a moment, one eyebrow threatened to creep right up off the top of her head like some fuzzy little undead caterpillar. "This... this is a fucking guide book, Lucien. It's got every goddamned thing but shoe sizes and zip codes, for fucks sake."

She looked back up to the warlock, and for the first time he was able to see genuine, unadulterated panic writ large on her pale face, lips actually trembling. "If this is really... if this is out there in stores..." Rapidly, she flipped it back open to the credits page, scanning for one particular tidbit. "Shit, this thing has been out for nine goddammed months! I've gotta..." And she stopped cold. Gotta what? Go to the non-existent Prince or equally non-existent Sheriff? Scour the local bookstores? If this was really out there for this long, it wouldn't do any good; anyone who knew what to look for would already have a step-by-step guide on how to turn things like her into tidy little piles of ash with a minimum of fuss.

Sagging into a chair, she stared off at absolutely nothing, watching a holocaust unfold. In words barely above a whisper, she asked, "What the hell do we do know?"

[Lucien Hunt]

"The greatest truths are often hidden in the best of lies." Lucien said. "This wasn't meant for the Sleepers Sarah." She noticed his use of a term she hadn't heard before. "From the public, I think our secrets are safe, but whomever wrote these books is killing our kind Sarah."

He paced for a moment before going over his laptop and tapping some keys. "I have a name." He said. "A place we can start."

"You ever hear of a guy named Felix Stone?" He didn't look up from the lap top until he spun it around to face Sarah. She saw the Black Dog website looking back at her. Lucien tapped a few keys and systematically certain parts of the page began disappearing and reconstructing itself, no... decrypting itself.

"I decided to use the same technique on their website. Take a look for yourself."

Quote:

My Fellows,

I have reason to believe the Crimson problem is supernatural in nature. I haven't much evidence yet, but I have reason to speculate that one of the local vampires is using this drug to sate it's own sadistic desires to harm the human populace. Be on your guard.

There has been another change at the college. I've sent informants to locate and report back any findings, we'll know who soon enough and the silver will rain, I assure you.

Be ever vigilant,

~Felix Stone

[Sarah Dead-Wolf]

"Well bleed me dry." It wasn't an oath Sarah - or any other vampire - used lightly. Circumstances however demanded something suitably grave, and it was the only thing she could think of that qualified. Mention of raining silver only added to the chill that grabbed hold of her unbeating heart.

"Hunters."

The word was anathema. Not just to the Kindred, either; she knew that it held a similar dread among her shape-shifting cousins. If the Burning Times were any indicator, it was no great joy for people like Lucien, either. Vampires and their peers in the night may have great power at their disposal, but that power was entirely dependent upon shadows and deceit, innuendo and secrecy. Hunters were, for all intents and purposes, a million-watt lamp that left anything non-human standing like a deer in the headlights... and all too likely to be run over by the equivalent of a Sherman Tank.

"It's a team of hunters. A cell of some sort, most likely. And from the gist of this, they've decided that one of us is pushing this Crimson crap." Sighing, she looked around the room, then back to Lucien. "How fast can you be packed and ready to leave?"

[Lucien Hunt]

The aspiring model was leaning against his desk listening, arms folded. "Packed and ready leave?" He looked at her like she'd just sprouted fangs. "Sarah, I live here, I can't just up and leave."

[Sarah Dead-Wolf]

Sarah pursed her lips for a moment, trying to think of just the right way to explain the situation to her rich, beautiful, tasty and naïve friend. What came out was perhaps not subtle, but certainly was heart-felt.

"Lucien, things like you and me are few and damned far between. Plain old humans outnumber us by at least a good ten thousand to every one. That's why we hide: they like thinking they're on top of the food chain, that they're science trumps everything else, that they know exactly where they stand. They don't like in the least finding out that their not.

"Yeah, we've got all kinds of crazy powers. Hell, my cousins turn into ten-foot tall killing machines, and for all I know you and yours can shoot lightning out of your ass. But when those plain old humans somehow manage to shine a flashlight into our little hidey-holes, we don't form ranks. We don't man the barricades. We don't call in air support. We bug the fuck out, and stay bugged out until they decide that they didn't really see something afterall.

"And do you know why? Because if we do take them on, we lose. We lose fucking hard. The last time we tried it wound up being called the Inquisition. You might remember how that turned out." She paused for just a moment to let that sink in. "Joseph Stalin had a quote: 'Quantity has a quality all its own.' The mortals have quantity in spades. And they'll use it. If this bunch of hunters finds us - which it sure as hell sounds like they're on the brink of doing - they'll make sure that if the first wave doesn't come back, another is there to follow it up. And another. And another. They won't give up until we're very, very dead."

In an uncharacteristically compassionate guesture, Sarah laid her cold hand gently on Lucien's arm. "You have a lovely house, filled with lovely things. And none of them are worth your life."

[Lucien Hunt]

"But, why Sarah?" He asked, gesturing that he didn't understand with his hands. "Who? Why are there these 'Hunters'? What did our kind do to deserve this? I don't understand any of this."

Frustration was evident in the way he moved, spoke, and was expressing himself. Lucien didn't quite understand what he was, the Hunter's information was spotty at best and offered him a clue, but no facts. "Sarah, I'm not leaving. You know more like us than I do, we need to pass this information on, find out who these people are, see to it that no one gets hurt."

[Sarah Dead-Wolf]

Sarah took a very unnecessary breath and let out a very necessary sigh.

"It doesn't matter who the hunters are. It doesn't even really matter why they hunt us, though I can give you a clue: as a species, humans are xenophobic and megalomanic as all hell. What matters is that they hunt, and that once they figure out that someone is 'Other', they don't generally ask many questions before shoving something sharp and pointy through your chest. Which by the way seems to work pretty well on most things, undead or not.

"As for staying..." She looked into his eyes and saw that they were backed by something more than just the wealth of a young playboy. There was determination there. This is his home, and he won't give it up without a fight. The feeling triggered similar feelings in Sarah; the sanctity of one's territory was something her family had held dear.

"As for staying," she repeated, "if were gonna do so, we'll need a lot of preparation. And fortification, for that matter," she added, looking at Lucien's neck in an uncomfortably possessive manner.

"I, um... well, this is the first night of the full moon, and it's a little bit of a hard time for me. OK, a lot bit. I need to burn a lot of extra juice to keep going on nights like this. Would, um, you mind if...." She glanced back down at his neck before looking back up with the most hopeful puppy-dog eyes she could muster.

[Lucien Hunt]

Relieved somewhat that she agreed with him put the Warlock at ease. He was new to all of his and it was comforting to know that Sarah, despite Lucien being a rookie, respected his opinions, it made him feel as like an equal.

He sighed. One thing was for sure, Sarah had a one track mind. The playboy started undoing the buttons on his shirt. "You're insatiable, now if only I could fins a woman whose sex drive cracked as high as your blood drive." He grinned. "For a girl who claims we're not dating, you sure like making out with me a lot."

He smiled and removed his shirt and set it on the desk. "Not too much please, when I get light headed it's like getting couple of drinks in me, then the next thing you know we wake up in bed together and the friendship gets awkward."

[Sarah Dead-Wolf]

She couldn't help but smile at Lucien's quip. Naïve or not, he had a charm and humor about him that almost made her forget what else he represented. Almost.

"I'll try to take it easy," she offered, then leaned in to caress his warm skin with her cool lips. A moment was spent in this odd form of foreplay as she sought the right place, then fangs sank into Lucien's neck with an erotic tinge that should have been impossible. Softly, gently, Sarah began to feed.

[Lucien Hunt]

Blissfully sensual could barely hope to accurately describe the sensations The Kiss left Lucien with. A subtle shiver, a euphoric tingle down down the spine, an orgasmic tense of every muscle in his body; it was all these feelings and more. As her tongue traced his neck his hands slid down and grasped her tight, denim sheathed ass firmly.

The sensation was better than any real kiss, false though it was, but Lucien's mind didn't care. Without the use of his magics his mind was open to the experience, a tense erotic moment that crossed the threshold of pleasure and pain, desire and consequence. In this moment, The Kiss had transformed the tomboy that was Sarah into a goddess of sex, lust and desire.

And to hear the vampires tell it: it only got better.

[Sarah Dead-Wolf]

When push came to shove, Sarah could drain a vessel of the vital red elixir at a startling rate. It was a survival tool, like every other trick in the Kindred toolbox, intended for stolen moments in a stolen life.

Tonight was not one of those moments.

Without hurry, without care beyond the moment, the vampire took from the warlock in gentle sips of crimson passion. The Kiss was every bit as much a pleasure for the recipient as the donor, and this night Sarah endeavored to take the rare opportunity to make the most of it.

It wasn't sex. It was far, far better than anything sex had to offer. And as she teased drop after drop of sustaining blood from Lucien, her cool tongue played with incredible lightness over skin brought to the peak of sensation. Her arms wrapped around his strong frame, nails - mercifully without claws - tracing lines down his spine.

[Lucien Hunt]

The seconds stretched to minutes which stretched to hours which melted into minutes, that languidly became seconds once more. There was much a Mage could learn bout the Arcana of Time if they would just allow themselves the opportunity to feel it's intoxicating caress. His breathing quickened as his heart raced to give Sarah more of the precious vitae her cursed existence thrived on.

The tingling of passion mixed with the euphoria of pleasure sent Lucien's mind reeling. He tried, in vain, to return kissed upon her neck but with each and every attempt his eyes rolled back as the focus was pilfered away by bliss of Sarah's embrace.

[Sarah Dead-Wolf]

The Kiss ended not with a bang, but a murmur. Carefully, with the touch and care of a lover, Sarah took a final tiny bit of the incredible manna, then just as gently sealed the wound with a soft, soft kiss. Passion kindled within the two faded slowly, and only after a very long minute did she finally pull back just enough to smile up into Lucien's blue eyes.

"And you say," she whispered, "that I never give you anything."

[Lucien Hunt]

The shiver raced down his spine and back up tickling the nape of his neck. He slowly opened his eyes, nothing was between them but a full mast and plenty of opportunity. The Kiss sure was everything Sarah claimed it could be.

"Mmm," he purred as he leaned in kissing her gently. She had no use for such display of affection, but Lucien did. For him, if just seemed natural. "Anemia, just what I always wanted, and you said you weren't the romantic sort." He smiled and brushed his lips to hers playfully, the air of passion still clung to the air in a toxic cloud of desire.

[Sarah Dead-Wolf]

For a moment, something surged within her dead heart. Something human. And in that moment, her lips trespassed over his, her tongue seeking his own as gentle hands explored bodies so alike and yet so very, very different.

But it was only a moment, and the reality took over. "You can play with them from time to time," Juan had told her, "but you can't truly love them. That's not part of what you are now. You are a predator, not a lover, and forget that only at your own peril." The tempation to forget that basic truth was a transitory thing, and the Sarah of now regained control from the Sarah of before.

With a final gentle kiss, she sighed and broke from the embrace. "There's a lot to be done," she said with some hint of passion still on her voice, "and only so many hours in the night to do them. With what you've found, we both have things that need doing."