Vampire: New Venice
The Rogues' Embrace
The Fateful Night – The Heroes’ Embrace
What happened that night nearly five years ago?
It was another loss for the Arsenal. Aidan and Austen Roag left the Bank of the West stadium home of the New Venice football team, The Arsenal. They were hungry and slightly buzzed from all the beer. A quick drive over to a nearby 24-hour fast food place was easy enough. The drive-through line was huge, but no one was inside. Parking and exiting, they were about to head across the parking lot when a commotion caught their attention. Three or four men were pushing a pair of women around a corner and behind a wall… and they were not being gentle.
A quick glance at each other confirmed their decision and they headed towards the now out-of-sight men and women. Hopefully those assholes were Broncos fans, to make the scuffle all the sweeter.
Moving around the corner, they saw a woman in a limp-bodied kissing hug with one of the men. The second woman was on the ground, crawling away, with another man roughly nudging her with his boot. The sounds of sobbing was heard.
Your sharp yell caught their attention. There were just three of them, none taller than five-foot-six, and all slender. Typical Mexican gangbanger assholes. As long as no one had a gun (they each had prudently armed themselves with a knife and bat), this would go smoothly. All three of the Mexicans turned and faced them. The woman crumpled to the ground as she was released.
They glanced at one another as the two twins spread out, ready to assist each other. They advanced. Fuckers must have been on something, grinning like that. No hesitation. No weapons, which was good. What the hell? No posturing. No talking. Just the stupid grinning. The closest one, his thin angular face and eyes a mix of cruel and bright anticipation, spoke.
“Blanco del hueso, “ he said.
The twins’ eyes went wider and muscles moved as the three Mexicans moved even faster than imaginable. Weapons met nothing but air before they were ripped from their grasp. Gloved fists and biker boots were everywhere, striking their face and body. When did eight more guys show up?
The world spun into a swirl of blurry red. Voices spoke but were distant, unintelligible. Their heads were forced up, blood oozing from their faces into your mouth. Choking. God, they must have been bleeding to death with that much blood. They could not help but swallow what must have been gallons.
Awakened. Pulse pounding. Distant. Calling with an undeniable lure. A lure that is life. A lure that is alive. And you must get there. Now.
She was lying on the ground. Was this one of the women they were going to help? Is she OK? No, no, they were certain the two women were white. This woman is black. And the Mexicans, where were the Mexicans? They stand, slower than they would have liked, their bodies not responding as quickly. But then, they had been beaten. Badly. The Mexicans were gone. So were the two white women. But the black woman, she was bleeding. Badly. It looked like someone went at her with knives. Those Mexicans. No. Wait. It wasn’t the Mexicans. It was… them? Not possible. But, thoughts are so much clearer now.
A sound caused them to turn. A black man clearing his throat. A white man standing next to him. An unbidden desire to kill both these men welled from deep inside, but the desire hesitated and snapped its jaws like a scolded puppy before retreating.
The black man explained in unheard words that they were different now, changed, and only he holds the answers. As he spoke his unheard words, he bent down to pick up a knife. The knife was white-handled and its blade was brighter than expected under these sodium lights. His talking paused as though in deeper thought before his gaze rose. Before, his eyes were harsh and unyielding. Now, an appraising look. Enough of this madness. With but a glance at each other, the twins turned and ran.
Several days later, they were caught by this black man and his white companion. They were convinced he will help them to understand.