<b><span style="text-decoration: underline"><span style="font-size: 15px">Chapter 1: Meeting The Mortician</span></span></b><br/><br/>The flickering of the overhead fluorescent bulbs were not very frequent but they were still a happenstance in the Santa Monica morgue. It was not a disruption but it was indeed a bit of a distraction as there was little to no noise unless Vivianne made noise which was very ill frequent. More often than not, she made the morgue as though there was nobody at all present. She preferred it that way, a room of dead people should be silent, not noisy. Still, sometimes it couldn't be helped when she had to put metal tools down on equally metal trays or open and close the containers for the cadavers.<br/><br/>The room around her was a mockery to its contents, the walls being bright white tile, the colour of life surrounding her everywhere she turned. Though occasionally a layer would be turquoise, it wasn't very often. Having been the mortician for over thirty years in the same location she knew where everything was, every inch of the room. And for three decades and change, she found solace and comfort amongst the dead. She felt the dead were the only kine she had something in common with, she and they were both deceased clinically. Sometimes she'd have a one sided conversation with a cadaver whilst dissecting it to determine cause of death or other means of investigation, often for police reports on crime. Sometimes upon encountering an oddity, she would record it on tape rather than write it down and play it back to herself to see if it sounded suspicious. Most oddities were deaths that looked like they were of kindred doing. If it sounded to supernatural, she would fabricate a means of death and delete the recording, making a fake report. Anonymity was her best friend in her profession and unlife.<br/><br/>She was just finishing up with a very recent kine whom had died of a supposed heart attack but investigators say that he had a very large life insurance policy. The details were unimportant to her, she was unable to determine any means of foul play with the man. After pushing the slab the body was kept on, on its rollers to the metal cupboard that was hermetically sealed and closing the steel drawer, she began to walk to her desk. On the desk was her nameplate, engraved in brass "Doctor V. LaCroix".<br/><br/>Glancing at her watch, she noted the time was only eight in the evening, the sun had set roughly an hour earlier. A bit surprised, she expected the dissection of the late kine to take more than an hour. Giving a soft sigh, she rubbed her eyes with a finger and thumb as she set herself down in her chair behind the wooden desk. Contemplating a moment on nothing in particular, she began to open drawers and began getting together the forms and papers she would need to make a coroner's report to the police, which would be found on her desk first thing in the morning when she left.<br/><br/>That was when her phone when off in her pocket, the ringtone was nothing fancy, just the standard sound of a phone going off. It was shrill and loud however and in a quiet environment, it was an irritation. However it persisted and as she fished through her pants pocket and drew the piece of technology out. Examining the caller I.D a moment before she pressed the button to answer,<br/><br/>"Yes Rodriguez, what is it? I'm a bit busy." She spoke in to the device in a friendly but somewhat impatient tone, leaning back in her chair and crossing her legs.<br/><br/>"This is important, Vee. The new Prince just let four newbies live after they were sired." The reply came back rather fast and while it lacked the friendliness that Vivianne's tone did, it wasn't as impatient but more urgent. This had to be important, very rarely did Nines call her other than to check up occasionally.<br/><br/>"That's... fascinating. I hate to break it to you, Nines, but fledglings aren't big news with the Camarilla." She sighed softly before she spoke.<br/><br/>"You don't get it, Vee. He let them live and their sires didn't get his permission." His reply came back flatly. Uncrossing her legs, she stood up, a bit shocked at the news being delivered. Blinking a few times and toying with a pen that hung by the clip on her white coat.<br/><br/>"He let four fledglings just... go?"<br/><br/>"Yeah, I know it's scary. It's all very hush-hush even in the Camarilla, he didn't even put the four sires on trial. They were executed quietly and the newbies were brought to him directly." Vivian gave a soft sigh, none of this was good news. She considered herself neutral but if she had to pick a side in a war, it would be the Anarchs for certain.<br/><br/>"This is all very fascinating Nines, what does it have to do with me?" She took a moment to calm her tone to maintain a level of indifference to the news and what the Anarch wanted. Though every fiber of her being was tense and hanging on his every word.<br/><br/>"These four are in a limo on their way to you. In fact, word is the Camarilla is going to want you to be their guide and get them around."<br/><br/>"... They expect me to be their chauffeur? Why would I do that?" The irritation in her tone was very apparent, not liking the idea of being a servant to four fledglings.<br/><br/>"Because this could be our chance to throw the Camarilla out on their asses for good. I know how much you hate them Vee, as much as any Anarch. You're going to be getting that call soon." What he said was true, she did despise the Camarilla but she kept it to herself most of the time. As if he had summoned it, the phone on her desk began to ring, the digital tone of the grey stationary telephone ringing out, the arrow next to the first line button flashing, "Sounds like that's them, I gotta go Vee."<br/><br/>With a beep, Nines Rodriguez hung up and she sighed, pressing the end call button on her mobile phone, picking up the receiver to the grey phone on her desk and pressing the button next to the flashing arrow,<br/><br/>"Santa Monica Morgue, Doctor LaCroix speaking."<br/><br/>----<br/><br/>Accompanied by the new Sheriff, Prince Godefryd sat in his luxurious chair in his office, the walls around him decorated with paintings and vibrant colours that would make his office look more like a five star hotel room. It lacked a bed however, though there was a hearth with a roaring fire to the left of the door with antiquities and a clock on the stone ledge above the fireplace. His desk and chair both were richly embroidered, matching the lovely rug that others walked on when they entered the office space. In front of the fire was a very comfortable looking couch, love seat and arm chair. Most of which were never used but served as an excellent decoration to the richly themed room.<br/><br/>The four fledglings were brought in as the prince checked his watch with a soft sigh, not facing his desk which would have him facing the four, but instead facing the window on the opposite side of the door which overlooked the city of downtown Los Angeles. As they were brought in, the new sheriff, looking much like the old one at nine feet tall, blood red eyes and a dark leather trench coat over his form stood ready in case any of them managed to break free of their guard and attack him. He was the only one whom stood out in the room, the one thing that was mismatched. The prince himself wore a dark crimson silk suit with a blue neck-tie and white undershirt.<br/><br/>"Welcome, fledglings. You have been brought here for one purpose and one purpose only, for me to explain to you the situation you find yourselves in." With that, he stood up. Holding a wine glass in his one hand, his other arm behind him like a gentlemen at an old English court would stand. The contents of the wine glass however were much darker and thicker than red wine, "Listen carefully because I will not repeat myself."<br/><br/>Not turning to face them just yet, standing in front of the window and looking out to the city, to give the four the impression that was the truth, they were unimportant. Insignificant. Most of all, expendable.<br/><br/>"Each one of you has been Embraced in to the world of kindred, your sires weaving for you a fate that would normally lead to your final death. However, I find myself in need of a group that can get errands done and won't ask questions." He would then turn, walking around his desk to in front of it to look at the four fledglings.<br/><br/>"You have a choice, you can die right here and now and your troubles will be forever over," He paused a moment to give the weight of his words their effect, "Or you can transcend the fate woven to you by your sire and work for the Camarilla and prove your worth."<br/><br/>"Normally the actions of your sires would have condemned you all to death, however there is something I see for everyone here involved to benefit. You can further the agenda of the Camarilla and help yourselves in doing so." He watched them individually, not seemingly interested in their individual features.<br/><br/>"Two Brujah, one Gangrel and a Toreador." He sighed again softly as he watched them, "I have shown great clemency allowing the four of you to live. You will all be sent to Santa Monica and you will be greeted by a guide whom will drive you where you need to be. Prove my generosity was more than a wasted gesture, don't return until you do. Good evening."<br/><br/>With that, he would give a dismissive wave of his hand. Whether the four wanted to or not, they were made to leave the office and escorted downstairs to the lobby via elevator. After being shown to the door, they would see a window with black tinted windows and glossy black finish. The driver looking human, opening the door for them and after they either got in or were shoved in if they resisted, the door was closed and locked. The driver then sat in his appropriate place and the vehicle began to move without stopping very frequently.<br/><br/>In the back, where champagne was usually kept were four hospital blood packs placed carefully in a bucket of ice with a note saying "One for each of you". The brevity of the drive would only be roughly half an hour to an hour of driving, the driver going safe speed limits. Upon reaching a street with a club with a glowing red sign that read "Insanity", the driver came to a stop and the doors unlocked and the driver held the one door open for the four.<br/><br/>Vivianne was sitting in the leather bucket seat of her 67 Impala with matte black finish, an empty blood pack in a plastic grocery bag that hung from the shifter. Her sunglasses on though she could see through them perfectly as if she wasn't wearing them at all, they wouldn't be able to see her eyes. Wearing her black silk pants and button up shirt, her leather trench coat over top, her window rolled down, her arm hanging down the side of the door on the outside as music played on the stereo from a cassette in the slot the music being one of Metallica's older albums; Ride the Lightning. The vehicle was currently off, but the keys were in the ignition so the stereo was still getting electricity along with the speakers. She didn't play the music too loudly though, just loud enough that she could immerse herself in it without making a public disturbance.<br/><br/>When the four childer left the limousine, the long vehicle drove off. Watching the four in the street, in case they didn't notice her, she gave her horn a light couple of presses of the horn to get their attention, making a prominent but still discrete couple bleats.<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>