Gerard had not taken well to undead life at first. He was to nervous, scared of his own shadow. It was a wonder he survived his first year as a vampire. But eventually he had found his place amog the children of the night, as the guy who could find you whatever it was you needed found.<br/>Right now he was sitting in his car, it was one of those rare occasions when he'd left New York. He was at a privatly owned airstrip, he was on to something.<br/>He had heard rumors about the Hound being let loose, how he was hunting for info about the origin of the freakish storm they were having. Sooner or later he'd come knocking on Gerard's door, and that made him nervous. He'd better have something to give that blonde psycopath then, and he thought he had hit paydirt.<br/>First of all, massive construction had taken place at the airstrip, without anyone asking for building permission. It could now handle big, comercial airliners. Second of all, with all the airports in the area snowed in, this one somehow was still operational. It was like the storm somehow avoided the place. This was big, Gerard really had stumbled onto something here, something important enough to catapult him into the big league.<br/>With a terrifying sound of metal being sliced up, the roof of his car was suddenly ripped away. Howling in terror, Gerard flew out of the car, landing hard in the snow.<br/><br/>Back in New York, the Vizier of the Prince stared with suspicious eyes on the ringing cellphone. The Vizier was considered highly intelligent by most, and he had collected a wealth of knowledge during his several hundred years of undead life. Yet he had, like most older vampires, a real difficult time dealing with all the new technology of the 21th century. Had he managed to figure out how to operate the phone, he had answered just in time to hear Gerard scream in terror. As it was, only the voice mail heard Gerard stutter:<br/>"S...s...Strigori!"