The Chase aftermath

If you’ve ever had the wind knocked out of you with a haymaker delivered straight to your gut, you might have the beginning of an inkling of what it feels like in your Soul...every time you’re on a bike. You squeeze the throttle down and blaze through the night like a bat outta hell. No one decides anything but you, and that bike becomes almost like an extension of your body. Just you and the metal beast gripping the pavement. You think it, it does it. It’s pure blissful harmony. You don't have to ask it, beg or plead for it or even command it. It's just act and react, melded together seamlessly.

Sy needed that Soul punch. He needed to ride. After leaving his fellow coterie and now likely outlaws with a smile on his face, he made his way past the crowds of socialites and emergency responders to his bike ‘Bianca’. He was gonna follow the path of devastation that was the wake of the wrecking crew that was Lara and her mongrels. Maybe if he was lucky even catch the Sheriff in action-it’d certainly give him a better idea of her fighting style.

The night air and smell of the city on the humid Chicago summer night were excellent for clearing the mind. The Ashen ball with all the pageantry; the showboating; the bowing and bending the knee...it was enough to make him puke. Adding insult to injury, the prince abandoning her post and her people just to save her own skin had also left his ‘gift’ to melt away. Getting scared of a little gunfire...how she was supposed to be a big war time general he could not fathom.
No-she needed to be sent a message that she was wrong. Releasing her pet meals and maybe making her not have her every craving catered to seemed a good way as anything. He revved the bike up louder and moved along at a breakneck pace; the deafening rumble growl of the machine echoing and reverberating off the store fronts and buildings.

Then the damn faerie had to go and complicate things. He slowed the bike slightly. He didn’t need another responsibility right now. He certainly didn’t want a slave. Was it too much to ask to just accept her freedom and let him starve the Princess a bit to punish her for being an idiot?

Him thinking of hunger got strange thoughts of Colleen going through his head.
She was a mission objective. I am a machine He revved the throttle.
She was a woman in need of him. I am a machine.
He leaned down, decreasing his wind resistance, getting even faster.
She was...beautiful. I am...so very confused. His hand slipped off the gas.

He took a deep breath, before saying to himself “C’mon Sy. Focus. Get your head in the game. She’s a distraction. A beautiful, sweet smelling, delicious, distraction.”

He slammed into a hard curve to avoid another car. “Concentrate!”

His mind replayed the fire and everyone fighting to get free. He told himself she made it, she got out. He had to. She was...important.

He nodded, “Yes! Important...to the mission. The Mission. The Prince. Flick.” His voice growing more filled with passion as he said each word as his mind narrowed down to the target.

“Flick. Bastard stole my kill, threatened to blow me up, and now sent men to offend the prince. That’s my job. To top it off, he ruined my carefully chosen insult to the prince too.” He shook his head. “Guys’ a monster!”

Sy came to a stop to find his bearings. “Let’s see-bullet holes, check. Scorch marks...check. Yup I’m on the right trail.”

He drove on, the smell of smoke and slowing sound of gunfire, and trail of burning wreckage being his guide.

"That's funny. Sounds like they're using BAR's. Those mongrels don't fool around."

It'd been a while since he'd heard any thunder, but maybe he could still see some of the fun if he hurried.

The light in this section of the city seemed to change, the angles of the buildings becoming something more curved and almost otherworldly.
That’s when Sy realized, after slowing to look at the surrounding buildings “Oh...this is Chinatown. Wish Caine was here. Might be able to translate.”

He saw the wreckage and bullet holes seemed to thicken and intensify here. He was close.

Armour Square is a seedy neighborhood even by Chicago standards. Cracked walls and loose shingles decorate most buildings, and the shops and storefronts all have iron bars over them. The bars and strange signs proclaiming their wares in weird squiggly scratches don't help to give the place any kind of welcoming feel by daylight. At night, with fog so thick you could almost make soup out of it there's a sinister tone to it all even without the bullet holes pocking every building and craters blown into the streets. Up ahead there's a flivver that's crashed into an old iron street light. The light is dead but the burning wreckage of the automobile is enough to illuminate the path forward, around the corner to the left.

Figuring nobody's going to be hanging around the scene of a shootout Sy brings Bianca to a slowdown, running her up on the curb next to an old hitching post. Then, remembering this is still Chinatown he decides to go ahead and put the chain on just in case. He first strolls up to the burned out Ford. Even standing back from the flames he can smell cooking flesh and sure enough once he gets around to the side he can see at least two burned and broken bodies inside. Nodding in approval he turns to follow the path of destruction. Up ahead just a short ways he can see it comes to an end at what looks like an abandoned construction site. There's several cars parked in a semi circle at the entrance along with several bikes. It's hard to make out detail from here, but there's people just on the other side of those cars. The sound of laughter can be heard.

So can the distinctive halting voice of Obediah Flick. Cheers erupt at his words, though Sy can't make them out.

The brujah looked around cautiously. Did Lara and the others get lost? Maybe Capone’s thugs just ditched most of them in the fog...I’m gonna get closer. Maybe learn something.

Sy reaches into his saddle bag for one of the sticks of dynamite. Never hurts to be prepared

He then, crouching low and clinging to the shadows made his way closer to the gathering, his head on a swivel.
Sy makes his way to the rear of the parked vehicles guarding the entrance, using the mirror on the far side to watch his sight lines as he quietly sliced a couple fuel lines from a pair of the gathered bikes letting fuel begin to drip to the ground but also allowing him to hear what was said and note who all was present...and more disturbingly who wasn’t.

Ash drifted slowly up from the ground in several spots, blowing into Sy's face. Some of them could still be recognized as Kindred remains. Sy recognized the prone form of Larry Freeman just before his dark features dissolved into ash and drifted away. As they dissolved bits of metal, bullets, rained down from where they had been lodged. Along with the bullets came clattering crossbow bolts nearly as long as Sy's forearm. Each of the Mongrels had been pierced by a few bolts before they met their end. There were at least eight fallen Kindred and Sy didn't see any sign of Lara.

There must have been nearly forty men scattered about the site. Many were lighting cigarettes and joking around like warriors on the field of victory. Others were removing human remains from piles of rubble and laying them aside in a row with other human bodies on the far end of the yard.

Flick was standing over the human remains with his head bowed. Two men deposited another in the row and Flick keeled down next to the body, wrapping one hand in a handkerchief. He lay that hand over the still form's eyes and made a cross over the body with his other hand. Sy's eyes flashed with the blinding white light that came from Flick. There was a series of wet pops from the body, a wet cough and a moan of agony. Flick tipped a silver flask into the man's mouth, propping his head up to help him drink. It took a moment for the revived man to gather his strength but when he rose to his feet with a helping hand from Flick Sy could see his shirt and coat had been burned away and hung on him in tatters. The flesh beneath was angry and red like day old sunburn and must have pained him for the stiff way he moved.

Flick patted him on the back before turning to address the men nearby. They nod and disperse, going off to different clusters of men. One approaches a few men near Sy having a smoke.

"Boss says to pack it up. Load up whatever you can of their gear in the Vampire's trucks and we'll take their bikes too. If you still got them papers the boss had forged go ahead and drop them here, boss figures there's a chance we can get the Chinks gunning for the Paddys too. Final count is five... four of ours for a good dozen of theirs. And boss says these was some of their meanest fighters. Even if a few got away, boss says we done real good tonight."

The men growl affirmations, except for one. He's a young man with drawn features and peach fuzz on his chin. Once the man who relayed the orders is gone he mutters

"Four dead for a dozen of theirs? Even if
we keep that score going they'll wipe us out with sheer numbers. Can't them Vampires... I dunnow... rob a graveyard and make more of their kind from the corpses?"

One of the older men puts a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

"Don't worry about that son. Mr. Flick has a plan, and God's on his side."

Just then Sy feels a tap on his shoulder and a hand clamp over his mouth. A somewhat familiar voice whispers in Sy's ear.

"Ya wouldn't believe tha night I've had, lad. Mind givin' a friend a lift home while those surprisingly capable men are busy?"

Sy moved slowly as he half turned his head to face the familiar voice of Finneas Flannagan-the Irishman who had been guarding the temple entry earlier and nods.

The brujah looked at him and then back to Flick, then at the dynamite in his hand.

He then silently motions with his hand holding the explosive with a questioning glance to the car in front of them and pointed to the spilling gasoline nearby and shrugs looking to take his cue from the Irishman.

Finneas shook his head.

“I may be a Lunatic, but I ain’t crazy. Get yourself killed if you fancy but you can at least tell me where your ride is and give me a head start.”

He chuckles, then winces in pain and removes his hand from Sy’s mouth to grasp at a gaping wound. His other hand is a mangled mess of a stump. It’s then that Sy notices the man is sporting at least three bolts sticking out of his belly and one leg. The wounds are slowly closing, but there’s a clear blood trail indicating where the Lunatic dragged himself from. Sy feels the sudden urge to pounce on the man and feast while the easy meal is weak, but clubs down the instinct with some effort.

Finneas leans back against the car, pale and grimmacing.

“We need to get back. Make sure someone reports what happened here.”

Sy grit his teeth, as he got a clear look at the injured man and evaluated the situation. After a short pause he nodded again and backed away from the car quietly, helping support the only survivor as they started making their way back to Bianca.

The brujah gauges how much further it would be and made sure they were out of normal hearing range before shaking his head. “We’re getting outta here. But I ain’t leaving til I say something.They don’t get the win and all the bikes...”

He pulls out a lighter, gives the fuse some heat until it catches, then hurls the stick back to the car. Sy then quickens his pace to the bike and yanks the lock free before etting the injured man on the ride.

Sy cranks the bike up and yells, “Hold on tight!”

Finneas lets out a pained howl of laughter as he grabs Sy’s waist. They’re tearing down the street and take the first corner as a loud BOOM shakes the earth from behind them. The sound of men’s shouts and scrambling to action is quickly lost to the foggy night

Finneas leans up to speak over the roar of the bike.

“Not that I’m unappreciative, but how did you know ta come? Did Lara send you?”

Sy hollered over his shoulder, while putting some distance from the explosion. “Didn’t see Lara-thought she was with you lot. Just followed the wreckage til I found ya!”

The young brujah weaves his way through the sparse late night traffic and is silent for a bit before slowing the bike some as he says a little clearer, “Nobody sent me. After y’all left, the sanctum got intentionally set on fire by Noah-he’s been working for Capone. Made sure to get everyone out and free from the flames, then headed after you to see what the damage was.”

He glanced behind him, “Looks like they got the drop on ya...either that or you are into some really messed up stuff. What happened? You and Lara get split up?”

"Aye, it was a right nice little trap they laid. And we charged right into it. After they broke and ran from the Temple Lara lead us into a running gunfight. We thought we had 'em on the run until they lead us to that abandoned yard. Lara was up front and waited for the rest of us to catch up and I saw a kitty behind a dumpster. So naturally I stopped and scratched her ears for a bit. For luck, you understand."

There's a squelching sound and Sy feels a spray of warm wetness on his back. Finneas sighs in relief and yanks out another bolt.

"Anyhow, by the time I was done with that business the others had caught up and Lara'd put together a plan. Just as she and the boys rushed out to chase them mafiosos down that creepy fellow in the big coat pops up, makes some grand pronouncement full of Hellfire and other such things and thirty more men pop up with crossbows and let fly."

He's quiet for a moment.

"I was in the back, catching up. I don't think anyone was aimin' for me or I'd a never made it out. I caught a bolt in the leg and went down, didn't see much after that. I know Lara and a couple others made it through that first volley and raised some Hell. I remember a bright light and this most unnatural heat, then I caught a few more bolts, crawled behind a dumpster and decided consciousness was for the birds. Next thing I remember I sees you makin' your way down the alley so I Obfscutates and here we are."

Sy nods along. “No such thing as too much luck. Clearly seems to have worked for you thus far. Hell for all I know maybe the kitty called me.”

As the man gives his take on the events Sy gives a grim nod of understanding. “I wondered how come I didn’t see you.”

He then looks back to the road ahead, “I don’t know who all is gone, but Larry didn’t make it. Wasn’t familiar with everyone else, but the goons back there said 12 of you were toast. You still being around hopefully means their number is off, but likely not by much.”

Sy looks in a rear view mirror to make sure he wasn’t being followed before he asks, speeding up again. “How crafty is Lara? You think she’d be able to get outta there...do what you did?...Or is she more prone to go out swinging?”

Finneas is quiet for a long moment. Long enough that Sy starts to wonder if the Malk heard him at all.

"I seen her get outta some sticky situations before, but always with us gettin' out first. Last thing I heard her say she was shouting for the rest of us to fall back while she went at the creep with her blade."

He goes quiet again.

"I didn't see her fall, and if she'd stayed to fight there'd a been more a' them dead. I've had my fill o' lead tonight but she ain't the kind to leave a score unsettled. Half of me wants to turn back and lend a hand when she comes back to finish the fight."

There's a squelching sound as the last bolt comes free from his leg. He tosses it aside with a laugh.

"A' course, the rest o' me is more'n happy to flee and leave her to her fun."

His voice quavers just a bit and some of the bravado fades out.

Sy considers the response for a moment before replying, “You THINK she’s still alive or you HOPE she’s still alive?”

He shakes his head. “I guess the answer is the same either way. We just don’t know...yet.”

Sy starts slowing down as the pair started drawing nearer the Temple. “The real question is what exactly do you plan to say to Bianca?”

Sy then adds, “But more importantly-If Lara is...missing in action, who is her replacement-temporarily or otherwise?”

Fin shifts his weight around a bit.

"Well, as the great Dr. Alphaerus would say: it doesn't matter either way and nothing we do is real. He is very wise. So I suppose we'll just have to wait and see. I ain't interested in who's Sheriff in the mean time; that call's waaaay above me paygrade. Pull over up here, if they's still fuzz at the Temple won't do fer them to see me all shot up and bedraggled.'

The bike comes to a halt a block or so from the Temple, emergency lights still flashing now that the fog is starting to lift a little. Finneas steps off the bike and offers his hand to Sy.

"I've no idea what to tell the Prince, though I suppose that leaves me with me last resort: the truth. Thanks for the lift, friend. Maybe next time we can stop for donuts and all my friends won't be dead."

Sy gives him an honest smile and shakes the offered hand as he says, “Just don’t forget the dark monsters and how we’re all puppets on silly strings dancing for their merriment...and you should be fine.”

Sy considers for a moment before adding, “...And donuts sans death sound delicious. Good luck me boy’o.”

The brujah then drove off loudly into the night.