Sims 4 Portraits - The Main Characters

It was only a matter of time before I stopped doing minor and one-shot characters in my Sims 4 experiments. Here's the big guys.

Michael Allens

James "Mitch" Mitchell

Mike "Boar" Boorman

Rebecca Philips

Sarah Cobbler

Solomon Wolfe

Weapons of Virginia by Night Part Two

The weapons of Task Force Valkyrie

TFV makes its appearance in Act Three as minions of Damian Drake. They'll be back again in Philly by Night, but one of their biggest impacts so far is not by their presence, but by Damian raiding their arsenal to help Michael with his invasion of Roanoke.

M933 Carbine Rifle

In 2014, this weapon would seem kind of generic. Typical US military issue carbine (the weapon is a slimmed down version of the M4 used by our troops worldwide.) But its presence in VbN is an anachronism. It wasn't issued to our troops officially (as best I can tell) until this century, but Michael is using TFV's stock in 1996. So it counts as "state of the art" firepower for the mid-90s and it looks cool to boot.

Tactical Blades

A couple of vicious looking swords I found around the web. TFV uses blades like these for anti-vampire work, since bullets are less effective.

Red Guardian Sword

Another vicious looking blade that seems designed for kindred killing.

Wolverine style hand-blades

Everyone's favorite comic book mutant clearly had an influence on one of TFV's armorers. As the text states, one of the blades is silver and one is cold iron for anti-werewolf and anti-changeliing work respectively.

The Djinn and Rebecca's Scimitars

With The Djinn's origins among the historical assassins (He is based on an Assamite character in VtM), it made sense that he would arm himself with their traditional weapon: the scimitar.

The Djinn's blade

I've always envisioned the Djinn's blade as a near exact copy of the sword Morgan Freeman uses as Azeem in Robin Hood. So, why pretend otherwise? The above is the very prop from that film. It's mean, thick, and looks to be wielded by a man (or vampire) bulging with strength and power. This is not a sword you want to see in the hands of a six foot tall coal black monster.

Rebecca's blade

For Rebecca's personal blade, I wanted something thin and only modestly curved, a weapon appropriate for someone of slighter build. An internet search came up with the above, which is a pretty good idea of what I imagined.

Beating the dead horse (or in this case, vampire)

I was still not satisfied with my Sims portraits of Deborah Means. First, it was the age. Then it was the clothing. Then it was the eyes. Then it was the face. Every revision I did failed to produce the image I've got in my head of what she looks like. Part of my problem is that she is, like many of the characters in VbN, based on a real human being. A real human being I haven't seen in almost 20 years, so I'm a little fuzzy on the memories.

That isn't so much a problem as trying to build something out of her half-Asian half-Euro ethnicity. I finally broke down and snatched one of Cenor's few Asian Sims (I've mentioned before what a godsend his Sims site is for this project) and got to work modding her into Deborah.

I can finally say I am exceptionally pleased with the outcome this time. Here she is...

Weapons of Virginia by Night Part One

I try not to bog down the story in too much detail about firearms and blades being used by the characters. This is not a Tom Clancy style modern-spy story, even if it does borrow a few elements from that genre. Still, I used to write stories in that genre so do have an eye for detail that doesn't always come out in the text itself.

So I wanted to do a post on the weaponry of the various characters in VbN. Much of these selections won't change much as we move into PbN1999, so it seemed fitting to do this now.

Michael Allens
As the lead character, Michael has the most detail in terms of the armaments he uses. Three guns in particular and one blade stand out.

Beretta M93 machine pistol

Michael's used this one pretty much from the start. I first saw this gun on-screen in the anime Crying Freeman as one of the villain weapons and it's stuck with me since. As I noted before, I originally thought the guns Selene was using in Underworld were these, so I wanted Michael to use similar as an homage. Close enough...

Ingram Mac-10

Another homage of sorts, since this gun (heavily modified) is the primary weapon of Blade in his series of movies. This is also a long-standing weapon of choice for many of my role-playing characters (it or any number of derivatives) , not the least of which is my Shadowrun character.

Franchi SPAS-12

There's something really cool about a bolt action combat shotgun. Michael first adopts a tactical variant Remington 870, but switches to this weapon after he recovers one from the dead mercenaries in Hiroshi's office building. A staple of most movies, it popularity doesn't make it any less cool in my opinion.

Hiroshi Takagi's katana

What makes this katana special is the fact that it hails from pre-Meiji Japan, making it "authentic." I had a particular look in mind for this weapon and scoured the internet for something that looked something like it to obtain the pic above.

Solomon Wolfe
After Michael, Solomon is the only character noted for using more than one weapon. He generally carries his massive revolver, but he also uses a sniper rifle in the battle for Nightstyles at the end of Act Three.

Ruger Super Blackhawk

One of the few modern-era single-action revolvers produced (most others are throw-backs or replicas to Wild West guns), this sucker definitely meets the definition of "hand cannon." I thought about buying one of these for myself at one point in real life, but when I saw the thing in the store it was so massive it frightened me. I'll stick to my manageable target pistol for the time being.

Dragunov SVU

I was a big fan of the Soviet era SVD sniper rifle in many of my espionage role-playing games. I only discovered this bullpup upgrade to the old classic recently. It seemed a fitting weapon for the revolutionary minded Solomon.

Mitch Mitchell
Mitch's magic is somewhat indirect; he cannot throw fireballs or kinetic blasts as can some mages. So he has to rely on good old fashioned technology to bring down his foes and there is one gun in particular that he makes use of.

AMT Hardballer II

I envisioned Mitch carrying a "long-slide Colt .45" as his weapon of choice. AMT Hardballer fits that description perfectly, another hand cannon largely made famous by Hitman series of video games.

Damian Drake
Drake's old fashioned, so it makes sense for him to use an old fashioned gun. There's no better choice than this one...

Colt Single Action Army (aka Colt Peacemaker)

Single action and somewhat primitive compared to the above, it's still a reasonably effective weapon in the right hands. Regardless of its deficiencies in comparison to modern weapons, it remains popular and it is a really fitting choice for our Southern gentleman vampire.

Leftovers

There were a handful of character portraits that I had intended to post for Acts Three and Four of Virginia by Night that I never got around to. So, given that I've started writing (and posting) Philadelphia by Night 1999, I suppose it's now or never.

Guy du Savoy

The treacherous Prince of Richmond is first up on the list. He's based on a PC from our college-era VtM campaign, but I've done a lot more with him. Guy's a pretty complex character, and unfortunately the story line did not give me the room to fully flesh out his motivations and passions. Guy is my first attempt at writing a genuine real homosexual character, not merely someone who lives that lifestyle for the kicks (like Deborah, for example). His grief and rage at the death of his lover, Raoul, is his primary motivator. While that makes him a villain in the context of Michael's story, I wanted his pain to feel real and his anger genuine, even if misplaced. As I said, he's complicated enough that I'd like to flesh him out some more and maybe I'll do that at some point in the future.

In terms of his portrait, I'm exceedingly pleased with how he turned out. This an almost fully self-created Sim, using many of the tools and DLC I've gained from downloading all the other Sims that you've seen here.

Raoul

The ill-fated Raoul unfortunately learned the hard way the dangers of the Dragonbreath shotgun round, making his appearance in Act Three brief, but important. His destruction drives Guy to hatch his grand revenge scheme in Act Four which leads to nearly all the events that transpire in Tidewater in 1996.

Again, this is another portrait I'm very happy with. Like Guy, I've cobbled him together myself with all the various components that I've downloaded over the past few months.

Cranston

Guy's go-to-guy in Act Four, Cranston is another PC from our VtM campaign. Originally conceived as a Caitiff with some Lasombra blood (who was also semi-insane. More on that in a few sentences), I had to modify him for his conversion into VtR. Using the wonderful conversion book Onyx Path put out for that purpose, he's now Mekhet of the Lasombra bloodline.

As I mentioned, Cranston was originally created as being slightly off-his-rocker. That's because he has the delusion of being an old 1930s-era super hero, which is where his name comes from, as well as his description as being an "Alec Baldwin" type.

His character contains yet another homage to pop culture in his weapons. The Shadow carries two M1911 pistols in the above linked film, and I further had them modified to fire .454 Casull rounds (This was also a piece of the original VtM character). That brought to mind the guns used by this famous anime vampire.

Lara

Normally, I wouldn't bother with creating a portrait for a throw-away minor character like Lara, but I did this one anyway. Partly on whimsy, partly because of the origin of the character. Lara comes from a dream I had that played out very much like Michael's encounter with her in Act Four (I meet her in a bar, followed her home. We had sex, etc. Hey, I'm a red-blooded American male and my subconscious doesn't always cooperate with my marriage vows.)

It wasn't until I started scouring the Sims websites and found a Sim that looked like the girl in my head that I realized what my subconscious was doing: She looks a whole lot like a certain crush I had in high school that I honestly hadn't thought about much in 20 years. Alright, I figured, my brain decided to fulfill a fantasy of mine 20 years too late. But it did give me her name and a place in the Virginia by Night storyline.

Virgil

Michael's loyal manager at the Fox Club and Nightstyles, Virgil's pic is a bit more generic than I normally like. I'll probably do a revision of him in the near future to update his look, seeing as he does have a role to play in the early parts of Philadelphia by Night.

Act Four Chapter Thirteen - Sleeping Satellite

Michael was not quite torpid when Rebecca found him, a pile of ash next to him. Catatonic was a more proper description.

She walked up to him cautiously, uncertain as to when he might snap out of his fugue. She wasn’t sure what it was that had made him like this, but the ash pile told her that he’d somehow overcome his foe. The Djinn was no more.

“One blow.” she said to him, “and it’s all over. Deborah gets her throne and I get Deborah free and clear. One blow. It’s almost too easy.” She gripped her scimitar tightly and raised it to strike.

She held it there for a few seconds, questioning in her mind if she could go through with this.

“What are you waiting for? His allies will be here any minute.”

Rebecca spun around in shock and surprise. A nearby shadow coalesced into the form of a man: Cranston.

“You weren’t the only one who followed The Djinn here tonight.” He explained. “Now, finish him off or I will.”

“No,” said Rebecca, her decision now made. “I won’t do it. He was my friend once. My lover. And while he may be here for mistaken reasons, I’ll not kill him for that.”

“You’re as much a fool as he is. Mistaken reasons? We set him up. This was always the plan. He was supposed to die against The Djinn and he had the audacity to win. Well…” Cranston drew his pistols. “I’m here to ensure his victory is a short one.”

“You’ll not touch him.” Said Rebecca fiercely.

“Get out of my way, bitch.” Cranston summoned the shadows around him and commanded them against Rebecca. She’d only seen the barest hints of this power and was taken off-guard by shadow stuff that was solid enough to touch. The tendrils wrapped about her limbs and flung her across the pavement, slamming her hard into the asphalt.

“All this effort over such pathetic weaklings.” Scoffed Cranston. “Hard to believe Prince Guy thinks you two are worth such energy.”

“That weakling…” snarled Rebecca as she came back to her feet. “just defeated one of the most powerful vampires in the world. He is my sire. I am his childe. And I will not let you touch him.”

“He got lucky. You will not.” Cranston opened fire.

The heavy .454 Casull rounds tore through her dead flesh, hammering her body with immense force. Bullets were usually of little use against vampires, but rounds that powerful were not to be taken lightly. Rebecca stumbled as her blood desperately tried to regenerate against the damage Cranston was inflicting.

“These guns are no accident. I built them precisely to take down antiquated kindred like you, with your swords and knives.”

“You got one problem.”

“Oh, and what’s that?”

“Reloading.” She spun on her heel and hurled the scimitar at Cranston. The blade tumbled end over end before planting itself in Cranston’s cranium.

The Lasombra vampire staggered back, blood pouring forth from a wound that nearly cleaved his head in two. He raised his guns again and pulled the trigger, only to hear them click empty.

Rebecca rushed forward and yanked the scimitar from the wound. She spun again, putting all of her weight into a mighty swing. The sword came around, striking Cranston on the neck and sending his head free. His body turned to dust before it hit the ground.

She walked over to Michael, who remained oblivious to what had just happened near him. She knelt down next to him. “Deborah says I’ll never be rid of you and she’s probably right. But maybe I don’t want to be. You’re the only thing I have left of the world I left behind. I can’t kill you, but I can’t stay either. All that’ll result from that is a battle for supremacy between you and Deborah. There’s only one way we’ll all get what we want.”

She leaned in and kissed him on the cheek. Michael began to stir; he was starting to come out of his fugue. “Good-bye, Michael.” Said Rebecca. She stood back up, hearing the voices of Michael’s allies in the distance, and vanished.

---

Boar, Julia, and Solomon found Michael a few minutes later. "Dear God," mused Solomon. "He did it."

"Not without cost, it seems." said Boar. Michael was stirring, but he was still not quite there yet. He gave Michael a hard shake. Michael's eyes regained their focus.

"He loved her." Michael said, his voice distant. "In his own way."

"What are you talking about?" asked Boar.

“It was all a lie. The Djinn had nothing to do with the hunters in Tidewater.”

“That’s not really why we came.” Said Solomon.

“No, but Rebecca is innocent. I know that now. Cranston’s the one that killed Sarah. On whose orders, I don’t know, but he’s the one with her blood on his hands.”

“And that appears to have been avenged.” Said Julia. “There’s another vampire corpse over here. I recognize these pistols.”

Michael stood up and walked over. “What? How?”

“Rebecca.” Said Boar. “When you went to chase after The Djinn, she appeared and attacked us. We broke off from one another when you summoned us. She must have found you first and then killed Cranston for some reason.”

“I was lucky twice in one day.” Mused Michael. “I should not have won that fight. The Djinn would have had me if not for a tiny bit of cleverness and a hell of a lot of luck. Now I learn that Cranston was stalking me as well."

“You or her?” asked Solomon.

“Me.” Said Michael emphatically. “The Reign, the hunters, they all were after me. From the very beginning, they were after me. I thought it was because Rebecca had a beef, wanted revenge, but now I know better. No, some other enemy arranged all of this. Something else at work here.”

“Perhaps,” said Solomon, “But whatever it is, it has failed. You still live and The Djinn is no more. For our purposes, our task is complete and a coronation is in order."

---

Michael walked into Solomon's apartment haven. He paused briefly just inside the threshold to take in the place where he had trained so vigorously to prepare for this campaign, for this triumph.

He looked out onto the balcony and to the hot tub outside, remembering more than a few amorous escapades. That, in turn, brought his mind to his present purposes.

"Where is she?"

"I would guess," said Solomon, "in the bedroom. Dressing, make up, getting ready. Or maybe..."

"...she's not alone." Michael got a devilish grin. “A threesome like the old days would make a nice welcome home.” Michael moved towards the bedroom door.

“And if it’s…” Solomon began. He didn’t get to finish before Michael barged in. “Rebecca” was, of course, the name he was about to utter.

For both of them, the image in their head was not to be. Deborah was within, getting dressed. Alone. The room was filled with the dulcet tones of Tasmin Archer's almost-a-hit song Sleeping Satellite, playing on the radio nearby.

"...I blame you for the moonlit sky...for the dream that died..."

Michael had almost forgotten how beautiful Deborah was and seeing her before him made him trip over his words. After a second or two, he managed a "Hello, Deborah," a greeting somewhat more formally than he intended.

For all her beauty, Deborah's glare at him was icy cold, almost hateful. It moved from Michael to Solomon in turn. "Do you know what you've done?" she hissed at Michael.

This was not at all what Michael had been expecting.

"She's gone. Vanished. Fled into the night. Fleeing from you." Deborah stabbed the words at Michael like daggers.

"She's innocent." retorted Michael. "I know she's innocent. It was ruse. Neither she nor The Djinn had anything to do with what happened in Tidewater. She had no reason to flee."

“She had every reason to flee. Damn her sentimentality. And damn you for coming between us.”

“I…” Michael stumbled. “I don’t understand.”

“I told her to kill you.” She snarled. “She went out to do that, but when the time came…”

“You told her to do what?” Michael growled in reply.

“It was the only way!” said Deborah emphatically. “The only way for us to have all that we wanted. She decided your life was worth more than that. Damn her! Now she’s fled. Fled to keep us from fighting over her.”

“No. Now we’ll just fight over the fact that I didn’t lay down and die for you just so you could keep her.”

“That’s what you were for. From the very beginning. Cannon fodder and nothing more.”

“And you think I didn’t know that? You have only yourself to blame, Deborah. You made me what I am to destroy your enemies. Problem is, your enemies were so powerful and so grand that there was only one way to me to accomplish what you wished. I had to gain power and strength and skill greater than you've ever had. I had to become a greater monster than you or they and so I am. I haven’t just survived. I’ve overcome. I’ve dominated." He paused and his mouth twisted into a grin, as if he was enjoying a private joke. “I am the master now.”

He looked towards Solomon. “But Solomon reminded me of something you once taught me. All that you told me of holding onto my humanity in the face of all we kindred endure. The monster would scrape you off his boot and take for himself what he came to give you. By rights, the throne should be mine. But I made a promise to you once. Don’t make me regret keeping it.”

“Then bow to me as your Prince.” Demanded Deborah.

Michael went down on one knee. Solomon did likewise.

“For what you have done for me…” said Deborah, her voice still shaky with rage. “I give you and your childe Blacksburg. Rule it my stead, but do not set foot in Roanoke without my summons. I will abide you in my city, but I want as little contact with you as possible.”

“And as for you, Solomon, I promised you a refuge. You shall have it. Make your haven wherever you wish, even in Blacksburg if Michael will permit it. But as I said to you earlier, you will not have me. Now leave me. I will summon you for court in a few nights time.”

---

Michael and Solomon returned to the hotel. As they entered the parking lot, Solomon pulled his bike up next to Michael’s Falcon.

“Deborah’s the only one that won anything.” Said Michael bitterly.

Solomon merely nodded.

 Michael paused, reigning in his frustration. "The blood of so many kindred and kine on our hands. So many have died and for what? Kris, Leigh, Sarah. All of them rot in their graves alongside countless others, friend and foe. All for a throne whose occupant doesn’t even want it anymore.”

“She’ll get over that soon enough. I’ve known Deborah long enough. Hell, she may find her way back into our beds sooner than you think.”

“But she said…”

“She spoke in anger. In the same frustration you’re talking in now. But I’ve learned something over my century of life. Sometimes small victories are all you get. Tomorrow, or the night after that, they’ll be another battle and with it another chance to win what we want.”

“Deborah may be your prize, Solomon. But for me, she’s only minor consolation. Sarah dead. Rebecca fled to who knows where. What’s left for me?”

“That is a question only you can answer.”

---

Maximilian marched down the line of staked Kindred. "You captured these four. What of the leader? What of Guy?"

Francois bowed apologetically. "I'm afraid the Prince of Richmond has scurried back to his own city. His coup has failed."

"And he's left these, his allies, to rot. Damned fools." Max looked the four vampires up and down. "Leave them for the sun. Let these last few hours be a gift by which they can reflect on putting their trust in a worm like Guy du Savoy. Damn his treachery. To think, I once called him ally."

Francois considered a comment, but thought better of it. It was probably unwise to provoke the Prince of Tidewater further. He motioned to his thralls, who came forward and hauled away the prisoners to their fate.

"So, we were played for fools." said Max.

"I am afraid so."

"The hunters, the Reign of Terror, the attack here on Nightstyles, the raid on Sarah's witch coven, all of it a ruse to convince us Roanoke sought my throne when it was Richmond all along."

"Michael's crusade to Roanoke wasted." added Francois.

"No, not wasted. Have you not heard? The Djinn is dead. My sanctimonious brother sent screaming into Final Death at last. And let’s not forget the other plus.  Two primogen dead and now a third exiled."

"Exiled?"

“Come now, Francois. You didn’t I’d take every advantage I can out of recent events. Michael Allens is gone from our city and I have no intention of ever lettering him come back home. He is banished henceforth and if he sets foot here again for any reason, he will face justice. Is that clear?"

Francois nodded.

"He can enjoy the comforts of that backwater in Roanoke, his reward for being played for a fool.”

“We were all that.”

“True, but I’m the one to most benefit.”

---

A light November rain fell on the muddy field of ground where Michael's old cabin had once stood in Blacksburg. A half-constructed mansion now stood there, the beginnings of a new housing development on the outskirts of town.

Michael had bought the property and threw in plenty extra to ensure his new haven would be under roof before the snows came.

"So what do you plan to do with such a big place?" asked Mitch. His wounds had begun to heal up nicely, thanks in part to the tender medicine of Angelica Walton.

Angelica stood by Mitch's side. The rest of the harem were also about that night, taking stock of what would be their new home.

"Well, between me, you, Julia, Boar, and the harem girls, we going to need a lot of space. This was the only lot in the development large enough to meet those needs."

"Awfully extravagant for a college town." said Sammy.

"Yes, but imagine the parties we can throw." added Julia.

"Blood will come to us." said Michael with a sinister tone. "And it will come in the form of nubile young college students, all eager for a good time."

"And who says they won't get one?" said Julia. "Some will have the time of their life."

"You two are making me nervous." said Mitch.

"Oh, come now, Mitch. It's not like you won't be in the mix of it all. Savoring all those hedonistic delights." Michael laughed and headed back towards his car.

"Is that really what you want?" asked Mitch as Michael opened his car door.

"No," answered Michael honestly. "But it will have to do for now."

---

Braden Jackson flicked on his flashlight, scanning the tombstones.

"Remind me again why we're here." said his companion, Vincent Murphy. "Graveyards are creepy."

"Death is a part of life." reminded the elder witch. "And we're here because of a hunch, a feeling."

"This is crazy."

"Not necessarily. The note found with Sarah's ashes said  'Your lover now dwells with her mother in the grave.' What if it wasn't just poetic license? What if her killers left some clue or something else at her mother's grave?"

"And what would it accomplish if we found it? Michael Allens has moved on. The coven is scattered and leaderless. What's the point of all this?"

"What if it's her?"

"Now I know you're off your rocker, old man. She's dead."

"Vampires have a habit of not staying that way."

"We saw the ash."

"We saw some ash." He paused before a grave marker. "Here we are." The grave marker was labeled "Nancy Anne Cobbler."

"Her mother's grave."

"Start digging." ordered Braden.

"I still say this is nuts."

It took only twenty minutes of digging before they hit something.

"Now, isn't that odd? Nancy's vault would be deeper. Something else is here."

Vincent tapped whatever it was with his shovel. "Wood."

"A pine box. Old school coffin."

"We might be able to." Vincent slammed down hard with his shovel, breaking through the soft wood. He bent down and cleared away splintered wood and dirt. "My God," he said as he got his first look inside. "It can't be."

"Too valuable to destroy." mused Braden. "Her enemies left her here to fetch later."

Both men could barely believe their eyes. Within the pine coffin was the withered desiccated corpse of a young girl, about 12 to 14 years of age. Within her chest was wooden stake.

Vincent reached to pull out the stake. "No!" cried Braden, but it was too late.

As the stake came loose, the corpse came to life. It leaped onto Vincent, its fangs at his throat. The girl drank deep, her flesh slowly taking on the facsimile of life again.

Braden ran.

Sarah Cobbler dropped the corpse of Vincent to the ground, her frenzy of starvation passing from her. She looked at the corpse of her devoted follower in horror, felt the hot blood on her lips. She saw her tattered clothes, the remnants of her wedding gown. The open grave behind her.

"Where's Michael?" she asked.

-- Here ends Virginia by Night --

But the Requiem of Michael Allens continues in Philadelphia by Night

Act Four Chapter Twelve - Sacrifice

Boar savored the smell of several tacos and burritos from the bag next to him. He'd left Mitch behind at the hotel with the two young ladies before sunset. By now, he figured two things had happened. Mitch had fucked one or both of the girls and Michael and Julia had risen from the daysleep.

As he turned down a side street heading for the hotel, he noticed something strange. The various people who were walking around in the early evening hours suddenly took flight, running in a panic. That could only mean one thing: Lunacy.

A large furry form charged out from behind a nearby building and slammed hard into the side of the pick-up truck. It hit with enough force to send the vehicle off-course and Boar wrestled hard with the wheel to keep control. He slammed on the brakes, sending his and Mitch's dinner flying all over the cab.

Boar unfastened his seat belt and quickly reached behind the seat to grab his weapon, the silver klaive he’d taken off the corpse of the one hunter. He shifted into wolfman form, feeling his muscles stretch and toughen for the battle ahead.

He stepped out, weapon in hand, and surveyed his surroundings. There were six of them, all dire wolves. Most he did not recognize, but one he knew very well.

"Linda." he hissed the name of his old pack's shaman. The familiar wolf gave a brief bow to her head, as if a salute.

"You can't take all six of us, renegade." Linda growled in the First Tongue, the wolf language all werewolves knew by instinct.

"I won't have to." replied Boar and let loose with a deafening howl.

"Take him. He's summoned his allies." barked Linda.

The six dire wolves began to close, but did not do so with haste. Boar quickly realized two advantages. First, his truck gave him cover and large size of the dire wolves prevented too many of them from hitting at once. Second, they feared his silver blade.

A couple grew close enough to snap at him and he slashed at them in return. No blood was drawn, but Boar could tell his foes were steeling themselves, trying to find their courage. That was good; it bought him time.

A few more snapped and Boar riposted again. It would not be much longer. Boar locked eyes with Linda and smiled.

That was their cue. The pack charged in, and Boar charged in reply. He slammed hard into Linda, knocking her back and pulling himself clear of the rushing horde. But the bulk of the wolves were not confused for long. One turned and sank his fangs into Boar's foot. He shook off his attacker and held fast to Linda.

A blur and a rush of wind came next. Michael had arrived, moving like the comic book hero Flash by way of his vampire powers. Michael leaped atop the truck and drew his katana. Taking only the briefest of seconds to assess the situation, he struck, leaping down on the wolf that had bitten Boar's foot. The katana sank deep in the wolf's back, but the wolf twisted and knocked Michael clear, slamming him against the truck.

Linda tried to escape Boar's vice-like grip, shifting to wolfman form. Boar held tight as the two began to tumble about along the roadside. Two more joined the scuffle.

Michael came to his feet as two wolves came for him. One bit hard on his arm and tried to drag him down. The roar of a motorcycle filled the air: Solomon!

Mitch, who was on the back of the bike, jumped off and charged towards Michael. Once free of his passenger, Solomon revved his bike and headed straight for the melee, plowing through the bodies and scattering the wolves.

Mitch was wearing the wolverine claw weapon and he stabbed at the wolf on Michael's arm. The silver burned as it pierced the wolf's skin and the wolf immediately released Michael. His arm free, Michael slashed at another wolf. Everywhere was fur and blood.

Solomon skidded the bike onto its side and it dragged to a halt. The big Gangrel came to his feet and drew out his revolver, squeezing off a couple of shots. The silver rounds from the massive pistol tore through the flesh of one wolf, burning as they went with Luna's curse. The wolf staggered, stunned and badly wounded.

"How could you do this to us?" snarled Linda at Boar. "You have brought death down upon us."

"For what you did to her!" he replied, breaking the grapple and slashing with the klaive.

Solomon turned his gun on another. He fired again, emptying the six-shooter and taking down his target. He popped the chamber and pulled out a speed loader.

Michael and Mitch, meanwhile, had their hands full. The two wolves were more than a match for the two of them. Michael saw his katana go flying off after a hard blow. Wounded and drained of the unholy power of his vampire blood, Michael felt the Beast Within grow stronger. Frenzy would soon be upon him.

"You know our laws!" barked Linda.

"Fuck your laws!" Boar's eyes flashed as he lost control of his own Beast. "I LOVED HER!" His body rippled and morphed into the massive battle form known to the werewolves as Gauru. The klaive came up, driven by the force of Boar's rage, gutting the shaman from crotch to neck.

"Uh oh." said Mitch, seeing Boar tear the body of his foe to pieces. That rage would not subside easily and he knew Boar might not distinguish between friend and foe. He pulled out a pocket watch from his jacket and began an incantation.

His opponent took advantage and slashed hard. The wolf's claws tore across his chest, but somehow, Mitch held his concentration, accelerating time around him ten-fold.

Boar tossed Linda's mutilated carcass aside and charged towards Mitch and Michael. He bowled into their wolf opponents, biting, tearing, and scratching at them; the klaive now forgotten in his fury.

The first one that Solomon had shot came back to his feet and began to run. Two of the three remaining wolves turned their attention on the 9-foot tall monster that had once been Mike Boorman. The last kept at Michael.

"Hey you!" barked Mitch through gritted teeth. "Aren't I an easier target?" he taunted.

The wolf apparently agreed, turning away from the near torpid vampire to the wounded mage.

"I'm sorry. Can you see me..." Mitch joked. "...or am I right behind you?" Moving faster than even the werewolf could see, Mitch rushed around and drove the silver claw through the back of his foe's head. Mitch snatched up Michael's katana as the vampire dove in on the dying werewolf, desperate for blood of any kind.

"Let's finish this." he said to Solomon as Michael drank deep.

Solomon put away his gun and extended his claws. The two of them grabbed a werewolf and began to hack and stab him to death as Boar, still in his rage, tore the last one to pieces. The monster then tore down the street after the fleeing survivor.

"Done." said Mitch as Michael came back up, wounds healed. "Feeling better?" Mitch asked him.

"Much."

"I'm not." said the mage, pitching face-forward onto the pavement.

"Mitch!" Michael barked in fright.

"Grab him. Cops'll be here any minute, once the lunacy wears off." said Solomon. He began tossing the bodies of the werewolves into the back of the truck.

Michael carried Mitch into the cab. Boar ran out of steam a few hundred yards down the road, turning back when he realized he wasn't catching his prey. Solomon grabbed his bike and fled down the road. Michael followed in the truck, with Boar jumping on when it caught up to him.

---

"Be interesting to find out what gets published about this in the papers." Boar mused as they dumped the last of the dead werewolves in a ditch, deep in the woods outside town. "Lunacy should scramble the brains of any witnesses enough that none of them will give a very coherent story."

"But maybe not enough to prevent them from identifying any of us." said Solomon grimly.

"I hope Mitch is alright." Boar had worries of his own.

"Humans are fragile." said the Gangrel. "Hard to say. Still, one of Michael’s harem slaves is a nurse. She’ll take good care of him."

"What the hell was he thinking?" growled Boar.

"You know the answer to that."

Boar nodded in understanding. "There can't be many left now. The chief, the shaman both dead, plus seven others. The pack was not that big back in the day." He paused. "My revenge is complete. Now I owe Michael his."

"And I have a message to deliver."

—

“So, the lupines bring war to us and it just so happens that two Kindred of Tidewater appear at just the right time to request permission to enter the city, one of them a former primogen.” said The Djinn.

Solomon stood by quietly, his message delivered as the Prince mused over what he had told him.

“Michael is taking you for a fool.” said Rebecca. “This is all his doing, I know it.”

“He is your sire. What do you say?”

“He is a schemer of the highest order.” Said Rebecca. “Michael says one thing, thinks something else, and then does yet a third thing. It was such a game that he used to make me Kindred, so I doubt he’s changed any. He cannot be trusted.”

“He departed this city with a pledge to return and avenge himself.” added Cranston. “That is common knowledge among the Kindred of Tidewater. This werewolf attack has given him his opening.”

“He grasps beyond his reach.” concluded The Djinn. “He may think us vulnerable, but Roanoke has its own secret strengths. Solomon, you pledged to defend this city. I will hold you to that if Michael Allens’ ambitions outstrip his wisdom. Cranston, you have also shed blood in recent skirmishes. We will need you as well.”

“My services don’t come cheap.” said Cranson.

“I’m sure your true employer has already well compensated you for your time here.” growled The Djinn. Solomon’s face flashed a sign of momentary bewilderment, but he suppressed it as The Djinn turned to face him. “I will meet with Allens.”

“Mi’lord, I protest.” said Rebecca.

“I will not be intimidated by a mere whelp, no matter how good his fortunes in Tidewater were. I have walked this Earth for nearly 800 years. I have nothing to fear from anyone whose lifespan measures barely more than a hundredth that.” The Prince turned back to Solomon. “I will meet with him. Tell him we will meet tomorrow on the triangle of grass beside the I-81/I-581 interchange. Such a public venue, in easy view of the passing mortal motorists, will reveal his true colors. Now go.”

---

“This is a trap.” Snarled Rebecca to Deborah. “Michael’s planned all of this, I’m certain of it.”

“Of course, he has.” Said Deborah. “Solomon’s told me as much.”

“What side are you on?” demanded Rebecca.

“My own.” Replied Deborah. “These conspirators are offering me what I’ve wanted for decades now: This city as my own.”

“Maybe I should clarify my question. Does claiming that prize require a certain sacrifice?”

“No,” said Deborah emphatically. “Or at least not the one you’re thinking. I’m not giving you up to them. I don’t care if you did have a hand in what Michael accuses you of. I won’t let him have you.” Deborah paused. “But for that to be, there is a different sacrifice required.”

Rebecca felt her heart sink and her ambivalence about Michael rushed to the forefront again. It was one thing for her to imagine battling him or even destroying him. But doing it for real? Killing someone she’d known nearly her whole life, one of the few remnants of her life as a mortal? Someone she’d once loved, who had gifted her with all the wonders of unlife as a vampire? Rebecca shook her head.

“I’m not sure I can do that.”

“If he finds you, he will try to kill you. I doubt you’ll be able to talk him out of that path. I’ve seen how he responds to you, thinks of you. There’ll be no abating this hatred now that it’s been sparked. It’s probably down to him or you.”

That cast Rebecca’s mind back to her mortal days and some of her fears of Michael then. She nodded. Deborah was probably right.

“You should understand that better than anyone.” Said Deborah after a short pause.

“He loved me once.” Rebecca confessed.

“Did he?” questioned Deborah. “Or was it something else? You will never be free of him as long as he lives.”

“And if he is stronger than me, as many have said?”

“Here’s the thing. You must be prepared to strike at the right moment. Michael will fight The Djinn. That’s a given now. One of them will succeed and the other will die. Just make sure you’re in position to kill the survivor and all that we desire will be ours.”

---

Michael pulled the Ford Falcon to a stop along the shoulder of the Interstate. He glanced briefly at the nearby woods, knowing Solomon, Julia, and Boar were hidden away within.

"I remember you as taller." yelled Michael confidently as the Djinn emerged from his own vehicle a few dozen yards further down. The highway traffic was brisk and noisy, making it hard for them to hear one another.

"Your successes in Tidewater have only fueled your arrogance." retorted The Djinn.

"You need my help to deal with your werewolf problem."

"You caused my werewolf problem." accused The Djinn. "You toy with those savages like you toy with everyone. But you are not quite so clever as you think you are."

"No, I suppose copying your strategy was a little unoriginal. You sending all those hunters down on us and all."

"I know nothing of any hunters."

"Oh, come down, Djinn, we were being so candid and honest. Why lie now?" said Michael. "Or maybe it really wasn't by your orders. Just hers. Maybe she plays the game better than both of us."

"Your sire or your childe?"

"Childe. Turn her over to me and this ends."

"You would dare threaten her."

"Sentimentality? From you? That's hard to believe."

"Enough of this. You escaped this city's justice once. You will not escape it again." Three thralls stepped out of the car and came up behind the Djinn. They drew machetes.

"Really? I rose to Primogen of Hampton and you send mortals after me?"

"You're a whelp. Barely one step beyond a mere human." The Djinn turned to his guards. "Kill him."

Michael stood still as the three advanced. As they drew into melee range, he drew his katana and cut down all three in a flurry of strikes so fast even The Djinn could barely follow.

"Solomon trained you well." said The Djinn smugly. Michael realized it had been a test.

"Solomon. Francois. Others. You also might recognize the blade." He held the sword of Hiroshi Takagi aloft. "Its previous owner did not part with it willingly."

"No, I would imagine he didn't." And The Djinn charged, his scimitar in hand.

The two traded blows for several seconds. "You want her? You'll have to go through me." taunted The Djinn. He broke away from Michael and then leaped onto the back of a passing tractor-trailer.

Caught off guard, Michael willed the blood into speed. He leaped onto a passing car and then onto the back of the same trailer. The driver of the car, shocked by seeing a man jump onto his car, spun out of control and triggered a pile-up.

In the midst of the commotion, Boar and the others rushed out of the woods, running as fast as they could to catch up. Solomon took the lead, but was body-checked off his feet by something emerging from out of the darkness.

Rebecca spun about with a bit of flourish, her scimitar in one hand and a wooden practice sword in the other. The practice sword, normally blunted, had been whittled down to a sharpened point, a perfect stake for a vampire’s heart.

“Let’s leave the two of them some privacy.” She taunted at her foes.

“We meet at last,” said Julia. “Sister.” She drew out her stake-thrower and fired it at Rebecca.

Rebecca dodged the shot and lunged forward. She thrust the practice sword and it struck home on the blonde Daeva. Julia staggered back as her limbs stiffened around the wooden stake. Rebecca moved in to finish her off when a giant wolf tackled her and took her off her feet.

Rebecca brought both feet up and kicked Boar off her. She then came back to her feet and faced off against Solomon and Boar together.

“All I have to do is keep you here.” She said threateningly.

---

Michael  twirled his sword. “Interesting venue for your final battle.”

"Cocky fool." snarled The Djinn. He cut his finger on his own blade and snapped a tendril of blood like a whip at Michael. Michael remembered seeing that power once before at his trial. The tendril wrapped around the katana and snared Michael's arms.

"Duck!" teased The Djinn, as Michael realized the truck was racing towards the Wood Haven Road bridge. Michael twisted his sword to cut the tendril loose and then dropped backwards onto his back. The bridge passed overhead, mere inches from his nose.

Michael was unfortunately too close to the rear of the trailer, so that when fell back his torso now dangled over the edge. As the truck traveled down the highway, the minute shifts of the vehicle forced Michael to put all his focus into hanging on, even if only for a moment. Sensing an advantage, The Djinn came back to his feet and charged. Michael barely rolled to the side before the scimitar struck sheet metal, sparking with the force of impact.

Michael came back to his feet as the Djinn spun about. The Nosferatu snarled and focused and Michael could feel the oppressive weight of something on his mind and soul. A vampiric power, but not one he was familiar with.

"Look at the pathetic nerd." said a voice in his head, one that sounded like both Gideon, his childhood nemesis, and Todd, the bully from high school. Laughter accompanied it.

"I never loved you." That was Sarah's voice.

"Worthless failure." His father.

“You betrayed me.” Rebecca.

“You failed me.” Deborah.

Michael shook his head, trying to clear the nightmarish hallucinations from his mind. They proved just enough of a distraction. The Djinn charged. Michael brought his blade up to parry and only barely blocked the vicious strike. It hit with such force that Michael lost his footing. He fell.

And the pavement at 50mph came up fast. He slammed hard into the asphalt, feeling the crunch of every bone. He rolled for 50 or 60 yards before coming to a halt, his body broken and ravaged. Immediately, his vampire blood began its work restoring his shattered flesh.

But to heal wounds of that magnitude would take every bit of mystical power Michael's blood had left in him. Michael felt the Beast start clawing its way up through his soul, panicked and starved of precious blood. Michael forced his human mind to hold fast and came to his feet.

The Djinn jumped down off the truck some eighth of a mile further down the road, landing on the highway with a much more controlled roll. Michael staggered over to where his katana had fallen; it was testimony to its quality that the blade had not shattered when it hit the pavement.

Michael mustered the will to trigger a summoning, one of the powers of his vampiric presence, to his allies, to Solomon and Boar. He now knew The Djinn was far too strong to face alone. He needed help.

But would help arrive in time? The Djinn walked steadily towards Michael, blade in hand. Then with a bit of flourish with his sword, the Nosferatu vanished from sight.

Knowing the Djinn could now strike him unseen was all Michael's Beast needed to wrest control. Michael faded as the frenzy took over.

---

Rebecca slashed hard at Solomon, but the big Gangrel dodged aside. For his size, Solomon was frighteningly agile. She readied for his counter-attack, but it did not come. Instead, Solomon paused, as if he’d seen or heard something unexpected.

“Michael’s in trouble!” he declared. “We’ve no more time for this.” He moved to Julia’s side and began yanking free the stake in her chest.

“Fine. Time to pull out the big guns.” Boar roared and his flesh rippled and stretched as he shifted into his massive battle form.

Deciding discretion was now the better part of valor, Rebecca stepped back and vanished from sight.

---

When he came back to himself, Michael found himself in an industrial park. He didn't know how far he'd run or for how long. He was covered in blood not his own. Michael looked about and saw the mauled body of what he presumed was the night watchman for the park, his throat torn out to feed Michael's desperate need for sustenance.

His hunger abated for the moment, Michael knew the danger had not passed. Of his foe, there was no sign. Michael knew The Djinn would not let him run away, not when it was obvious to both of them that Michael was beaten. He would hunt him down to finish the job.

Michael picked up his katana from beside the dead man. By some twist of fate, his frenzied self had only dropped it after pouncing on the poor fellow. Michael doubted he would get far before his enemy found him. Better to stand his ground and hope that help was not far behind.

But where?

Michael scanned about for something, anything, that might buy him some time. He walked towards one of the buildings. As he got closer, a light above him flickered on, startling the frightened vampire.

"Motion sensor." Michael mused. And then the idea came.

Michael turned around, his back to the building, and held perfectly still. He closed his eyes and waited. After a few seconds, the light above went back off. And still, he waited.

Michael knew the vampiric power of stealth worked by fooling the minds of observers. Ernie had told him that ages ago when they were prepping him to take on Mathias. He waited.

The light flashed back on. His eyes popped open and with vampire celerity, Michael dropped down and slashed hard. He felt the katana meet resistance and then slice on through. The Djinn suddenly appeared and slammed against the pavement, his right leg severed below the knee.

Michael shot back upright and parried The Djinn's clumsy riposte. With a twist of his blade, Michael got under his foe's defenses and severed his right arm below the elbow.

The Djinn rolled, grasping for his severed hand in hopes of reattaching it, but Michael grabbed him by the collar and flung him several yards down the pavement.

"Holy fuck" said Michael astonished to himself. "I just beat him."

The Djinn tried to pull himself upright on his one good leg. "No smart ass comment to make?" he snarled at Michael.

"No," said Michael calmly. "Not this time." Michael walked over and grabbed The Djinn by the throat. "Where is she? Tell me and I might let you crawl away from this."

"You'll get nothing from me."

Remembering what had happened when he fed from the Mad Bishop, Michael bared his fangs. "If you won't tell me, then I'll just take it from you."

"You wouldn't...Our laws..."

"As a friend of mine recently said, fuck the laws." Michael bit down. The powerful elder blood was intoxicating, a rush like no other. But Michael wanted more so he drank deeper, deeper to the elusive nectar of The Djinn's very soul. And there, he found far more than he bargained for as The Djinn's dying memories flooded into his mind. His Beast roared in pain. His mind screamed, and the world faded to black.

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