World of Darkness World of Darkness: Attrition - Prelude to Making Enemies [Complete]

[z-Amber Wren]

"Ennie-meenie-minney-mo," Dylan whispered in Jenna's ear, making her giggle a little.

"Which one?" she whispered back, not taking her dark brown eyes off the crowd in front of them.

Dylan pointed and Jenna groaned. "He's old," she hissed at her blond companion. "And ugly."

"Well, and he's a guy, but I'm not complaining," he muttered back, but his tone lacked any conviction. He was no more eager to pick the Hasidic Jew than she was, for all the reasons mentioned.

"I'm changing the rules," Jenna said, standing up and brushing the back of her skirt off. Her brusque motions made the pleated, plaid garment bounce and sway enticingly, and Dylan licked his teeth hungrily.

"C'mon," she said, offering him her hand once her skirt was clean.

Dylan blinked up at her and grinned. "Yes, ma'am," he replied, taking her hand and letting her pull him up. He didn't bother to dust off the grit from the park bench clinging to his pants; he wasn't nearly as fastidious as Jenna.

They walked through LA's nighttime streets for a while. Without warning, Jenna said, "Pick a number between one and one hundred."

Dylan grinned and shut his eyes. "Sixty-nine," he said laviously, running his hands over her bared back, loving the even temperature of her skin. Touching her wasn't a sexual thrill, but he did it anyway, falling back on his former ways of showing affection.

Jenna smirked. "Shoulda guessed," she chuckled before looking at the person walking past them. "One," she whispered.

Dylan immediately understood the nature of her game. "Gah, I should have picked a lower number."

"Patience, dear mate," Jenna murmured. "We have all the time in the world."

"Thanks to me," Dylan said, then added, "Two," as a fat teen girl walked past them.

"Like you embraced yourself," Jenna snorted.

"I could have," he laughed, grabbing her for a kiss as cold as the fall night. "I'm that awesome."

Jenna just rolled her eyes, but she was quickly distracted by a group of yuppies strolling by. "Three-four-five-six-seven and eight," she said to Dylan. "See? The time will fly by."

Though he didn't want to agree, the young vampire was forced to admit she was right. And to his delight, the long count built his anticipation. By the time he whispered, "Sixty, sixty-one," he was almost shaking with anticipation.

"Sixty-two," Jenna murmured as she danced past the dignified old man.

"Sixty-three, sixty-four and sixty-five," Dylan said, spinning and jumping to land behind the three teens walking together. His shouted "Boo!" made them shriek, and he laughed as he caught up with Jenna.

"Sixty-six," Jenna murmured as a prostitute walked warily past them, sensing something was wrong. Her hand remained in her purse until they were well past her.

"Sixty-seven, sixty-eight," Dylan chanted, his breath panting in and out of his dead lungs.

They stopped when they saw sixty-nine, however. "Which one is sixty-nine?" Dylan whispered, looking at the two heavily built men.

"Does it matter?" Jenna asked, tossing back her red hair.

"Sure, it does," he said, "the rules say kill Sixty-nine."

"Fine," Jenna murmured before smiling at him. "The one who is horniest is sixty-nine."

"Done!" Dylan giggled, sticking his tongue out randomly.

Jenna bounced forward, toward them, as Dylan slipped into a shadow. The two men eyed her, one with interest and one with irritation. "Hi," she said, stopping with a smile.

The interested guy smiled back, but the other one said, "Go away, girl."

Jenna's hand crept up to her collar and slowly undid a button. Her smile grew deeper as she undid a second, then a third. "No," she said, adding a hint of pout to her voice. "I wanna play."

"I'll play," the interested guy said while the other sighed.

"Fine," his friend sighed. "Go fuck this... lady." His tone left no doubt that he didn't think highly of Jenna. Dylan, still hidden, smiled greedily. That one was his. No one said stuff like that about his girl, no matter how slutty she was acting.

Jenna's smile was tight as she turned and danced into an alley, lifting the edge of her skirt enough to flash glimpses of underwear. Moaning, his hands already on his fly, the man followed her.

Dylan fingered the stainless steel rod hidden under his vest, anticipating the coming delight. Clearing his throat, he triggered his shadows, drawing them in around him. Hidden from view, he walked casually up to the man. For a moment, he observed the wonder of Obfuscate, the way the man unconsciously moved to avoid him, seeing him, but not seeing him.

But he was getting hungry. He pulled out his rod, which was more like a straw. He pulled out his gun, positioned the sharp tip of the rod just about the man's chest and hammered the end of the pipe with the butt of the gun.

Two reactions occurred. First, the straw pierced the man's chest and through the sternum, passing straight into his heart. The second were the twin screams - one from his victim and the other from up the alley.

The man dropped to his knees, gazing down at the rod in his chest. His face was a characture of shock. He touched the rod and murmured, "Oh, god."

"Don't mess with that," Dylan said, batting his fingers away. "Just hold still and you might survive?" He wouldn't survive, not now. Hot, red blood welled and dripped from the end, and Dylan bent down and started to drink. The man's pathetic struggles were easily subdued.

Sudden movement caught his eye and, without pausing in his feast, he looked up. The man Jenna had lured into the alley was staring in horror at the scene before him. Dylan grinned around his straw and waved, as casually as if he were having a strawberry shake. With a shout, the man fled.

Several minutes later, it occurred to Dylan that something must have happened to Jenna. His prey was long gone, laid low by shock and bloodloss. Standing, he grabbed the man by his leg and dragged him into the alley. "Jen?" he called. "Baby?"

Thumps and a muffled shriek came from a dumpster, and Dylan laughed. "Oh, babe... I'm never going to let you live this down." Still chuckling, he unwound the chain that had been wrapped around the lid and freed his girl.

Jenna came up with a snarl, garbage hanging from her. "Son of a bitch!" she screamed, raking at her hair. "I'm going to kill him."

"Sure, babe," Dylan replied, reaching out to help her.

"And you!" she snapped, ignoring his help. "You oaf! You couldn't wait until I'd killed one of them, could you?"

"What did I do? I have to eat too!" Dylan protested, stepping back and letting the lid fall, since the ungrateful bitch didn't want his aid.

Jenna disappeared under the slamming lid, and Dylan stepped back in case she came out in a frenzy state of mind. She was in control, though pissed. "You ass," she seethed, creeping out from under the lid. "You ass! Where is he?"

"Who?"

Jenna took a deep breath. "The human that saw you appear out of nowhere, stab his friend in the chest and then dumped me in a dumpster."

"Oh. He took off that way." Dylan jerked his thumb.

Jenna's eyes widened, staring at him in shock. "You... what? You let him walk away?"

"No, I didn't." Jenna's face relaxed, only to crumple again when he added, "I let him run away."

"Dylan... my god." She pulled out her phone and started to dial.

"Who are you calling?" he asked.

"Theodore," Jenna replied, pressing the phone to her ear. "Oh hey, Theo. We have a problem. We have a Breach."

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

"I don't see what the problem is," Dylan said.

"How old are you, foo'?" Sparks barked. The black Carthian had most of his face hidden by his low hat and hoodie, but the sneer on his lips was clearly visible.

"Old enough that I don't piss my pants over one mortal," Dylan snarled.

Sparks shook his head but didn't reply. Dylan put his eyes forward, hating that Sparks had been sent to escort him in to see Theo. He wondered briefly why Jenna hadn't come for him, but he figured she was still mad. He hadn't seen her all week, and she wasn't answering her phone. He wasn't interested in finding her; a Gangrel wouldn't be found if she didn't want to be found. And if she didn't want to see him, then fuck her.

Sparks walked him into an empty room, muttered a terse order to stay there and left. Dylan waited, checking out the room. It was in Theo's building, in one of his conference rooms. To the Kine, Theodore Hatcher was a retired lawyer who did occassional pro bono cases. In truth, he was Prefect of the Carthians in and around Los Angelos.

The door opened and Theodore himself walked in. A tall, thin man with sandy-blond hair and hazel eyes, he was impeccibly dressed in his usual collared shirt and tie. Tonight, the tie was loose and his sleeves were rolled up. "Good evening, Dylan," he said, extending his hand.

Dylan ignored the hand. "Just do it. Whatever bullshit punishment you've come up with. Just get on with it."

"Breaches of the Masquerade are never bullshit," Theodore said. His tone was even, but that was the first time Dylan had ever heard the Ventrue curse. "You risked our very existence with your laziness, and you cost us resources to cover the Breach. So you deserve what you're getting, which is a six-year dirt nap. That's one year for each of your Brothers or Sisters in the Movement who had to lose something because you were lazy. Use your time well. I recommend reconsidering how you approach your Requiem."

Dylan opened his mouth to argue when a searing pain tore through his chest. His body immediately went stiff, then limp. Theodore stepped forward and caught him, and familiar hands grabbed him from behind. As he sank to the floor, he heard Jenna whisper from behind him, "I'm sorry, but it was for the best."

Then there was only darkness, a great abyss pierced only by the haunting, tormenting dreams of torpor.