Fredrick pulled his hoodie over his head as the rain slowly began to fall. The light tapping of raindrops on his hood gave him little comfort. As he made his way down the abandoned street he caught a view of himself in a closed store window.
He was a large man...6'3 and clocking in at about 256 pounds. His thick black hair was reduced to no more than a crew cut, but at the moment his hood managed to conceal that. Gabriel had asked him to search for clues about Sabbat in the God forsaken slums of Cascadia.
Fredrick glanced around at the neighborhood. Trash littered the dark streets, which echoed a ghost town. The few Kine he DID see on the street were hardly to be considered human. Drunks, whores, and their respective pimps. Fredrick snickered as he made his way towards the address.
The moonlight didn't seem to penetrate this part of the urban jungle. Abandoned factories loomed on the skyline...the famous downtown not within view. Large smokestacks from the few remaining industrial centers shot plumes of smoke into the once pure air.
The buildings reflected the tepid streets, a layer of filth covered everything. As Fredrick passed various alleyways he was assaulted with the smell of piss and fecal matter. The homeless huddled together like bands of long forgotten warriors. It was odd....how Kine could be so foolish as to alienate their own kind.
No one cares...no one wants to know your history. They concentrate solely on what you are...what they're biased eyes see in front of them. Consequently, the homeless were no more than drunken alcoholics that were only slightly higher than the rats that accompanied them.
Fredrick quickened his pace as he passed an empty basketball court. The chainlink fence was bent and crooked, a twisted structure of order. Beyond it...on the court, cracked and worn, the basketball hoops stood neglected...the chain netting long since torn down.
Centercourt stood a figure. A hunched dwarf of a man. Fredrick stepped onto the court, his sneakers padding his steps. Approaching the man, he could tell he had been doing his job admirably. The smell of defeat and hopelessness was nearly overpowering. Fredrick stopped a few feet from him and stood with his hands in his pockets...the figure stood silently, the moonlight shining off of his filthy, greasy hair. His cracked and nearly blue lips parted...
"You're looking for Simon....you'll find him in the building down the alley..."
Fredrick nodded and presented a small wad of cash from his pocket. He dropped it on the cement and stepped off the court into the alleyway. Behind him, the man scurried for his fix.
The alleyway stood apart from the rest of the slum...mainly because it had been painted white. The paint was now dingy and chipped, but at one time it may have seemed sterile. Weeds grew from cracks in the pavement and the sounds of small rodents rose around him. Near the end of the alleyway, near a large green dumpster, a thin wooden door stood slightly opened.
A Sabbat symbol was painted in grey paint on the front. Fredrick lifted up his sweatshirt and pulled his .38 Special out. The shiny piece sparkled marvously against it's dingy surroundings. Fredrick strode down the alleyway and slowly pushed the door open.
As the door creaked painfully open, Fredrick saw that it was nearly pitch black inside. The various odors of shit and filth wavered out...
Fredrick slowly stepped inside, letting his eyes quickly adjust to the lack of light. Glancing around he saw he was in a small office space...a hallway with several doorways that held no doors. The creaking beneath his feet gave away the wooden floor.
As things came into focus he saw that the walls were wooden as well, cracked and worn. The rooms were nearly empty, a crate here, a box there. In some rooms small couched with tears in them sat lonely in a corner.
Tattered draps covered the windows, letting no moonlight through. From the end of the hallway a figure emerged. A thin, nearly skeletal man. As he approached Fredrick took him in.
His head was shaved...thin black hair kept to stubble. His face was almost childlike. A large forehead, eyes that once might have been quite beautiful. Now they were sunken and held large bags. The man's lips were thin and colorless. He wore old Levi's and a faded yellow shirt, the writing long since scratched off.
Fredrick detected his aura, fully expecting a Kindred of some sort. Kine. Fredrick snarled inwardly, a junky.
"Rick...is that you man? C'mon in...we got another score." The man wrasped as he approached Fredrick...suddenly he stopped, "Y..you're not Rick, hey who the fuck are you??"
Fredrick jolted foward and caught the man by the collar of his shirt and threw him backwards. The junky smacked against the back wall of the hallway and turned to the doorway he had originated from.
"Fuck! Bolt you guys!!! It's the..." his words were cut short and Fredrick shoved him through the doorway and onto the wooden floor.
He glanced around the room in disgust. The room was empty...except for a small circle of people. They huddled around a candle. Three guys and one girl, excluding the junky he had thrown onto the floor.
They were all in the same shape as the man in the faded shirt. Their faces empty of all life. Their blood must be 100% sludge by now. In the center of their little circle laid various items. A few spoons, lighters, and syringes were strewn.
They all looked at him with mild comprehension. They were completely out of it. Fredrick moved one step foward. Detecting their auras he quickly determined they were all Kine.
"Who put that symbol up on the front door....."

((sorry it's so long...i'll post more later

((cool post Gabe..well written :smile:

((thx Sor

((Nice post man :smile: ))

( Sabbat? ...i dont know anything about the *caughs*Cappadocians*Caughs* the sabbat in cascadia.

nice post gabe as always... :smile:

"I..I don't know...." the junky in the yellow shirt clammered. One of the other junkies shook his head clear of his heroin induced haze.
"Hey Jimmy dude...who's that guy?" he stared up at Fredrick with dead eyes. Fredrick pulled silencer out of his hoodie pocket and attached it to his .38. "Dude...what's with the pistol?"
Fredrick leveled the piece and fired two shots into the addict. A small mist of blood sprung from his chest and he slumped to the floor. "Jimmy" stared in horror at his dead friend. He was obviously a bit more sober than the other three.
The situation however, was becoming all too clear the group. Broken sobs rang out as they huddled around their dead friend. Jimmy however stayed right on the floor where Fredrick had thrown him.
"I'll ask once more...who put that symbol on the front door.....?"
The junkies had pulled the dead body into the far corner where they huddled around him crying. The woman, or what was left of her, was hysterical.
"You FUCK! You fuckin murderer....FUCK YOU!" she stood up and ran at Fredrick, her eyes wide with anger and shock. Fredrick raised his pistol and fired once more, the bullet cracking her skull open and sending her flying back several feet. The junkies stared in horror as brain matter and blood spilled across the floor.
"Who put that symbol on the door..."

((Once again,a great post man :smile: ))