The Rescue (by milliecat)

The Prince kneels down to the writhing creature on his office suite floor. "Hush, Mabel. You need to tell us who did this to you."

Hanson's former pretty secretary now distorted Nosferatu screams again, her bones and flesh twisting to the curse of that blood even still. "Hanson. just. just kill me." The still sweet, familiar voice pleads in gruesome dichotomy to her now hideous exterior.

He offers yet more blood in the same loving manner as when she was his mortal servant, but she refuses, already glutted, no ease of pain had from his potent vitae. "You mean no less to me, Mabel. You will survive this. You are strong." The Prince's overpowering grace fills the room, lessening at least her emotional pain a bit. "You must help me now, you must allow me to find those who would do such a thing to you."

She shakes her head. "I... I did not see them," her new growing rows of teeth grind together with tension and suffering. "They... they told me to tell you something... but I don't want to." Sad shining blue eyes look up at him in the way they often had from her desk in the lobby.

"You must tell me, Mabel," Hanson's command, though gentle, was not to be denied.

"They told me to tell you... 'Fuck you Hanson." Hate, almost, leaked out even under the weight of the Prince's beguilement. Hate, for both knew why she was chosen. His promises of a happy beautiful immortality were broken.

"You will stay with me until such time as you wish to leave. There may come a time when others of your new family can offer you more solace than I." The Prince radiated with genuine sadness at this thought, helping her to an unsteady standing position.

Moving to his desk, he dialed a number, listening to the rings. After trying several numbers and leaving several messages, he glances up at Mabel. "Victoria would like to know of this, no doubt, but I cannot contact her at the moment for some reason," his reassurance was subtly tinged with purposeful concern as he started to dial other numbers. "I have them all right, yes? Have I missed any contact codes?" He asks his receptionist, as he always had.

Mabel shakes her head once, a smirk almost showing through her vanishing lips. "Miss Semingsworth is not reachable either, I see," she half whispers.

"No, she is not,' his brow furrows obviously. A ringer then buzzes in an odd pattern. "Yes Victoria?" Hanson answers without asking.

In an unusually tense voice, Victoria addresses her Prince on the phone. "I seem to have found myself looking ardently for Lucille, and have somehow found her in a warehouse." The Nosferatu Primogen quickly gives an address and directions to the location, "I managed a look through a ventilation system. It appears she and one of her retainers, Miss Weston, are being held there by what looks to be at least four Anarchs. Some fit the descriptions we were given, including the leader, Geeves." Victoria lowers her voice further, "I do not believe I could see them out safely if I attempted a rescue alone. Lucille is immobilized, and looks to be in a great deal of trauma."

"I am coming." Victoria returns only silence to the Prince's statement. "I will be there within twenty minutes. Mabel, please, stay in here." He heads out the door and begins to make calls, first to the Club Manager, and then to the passengers of his private jet. "We have a situation," the prince speaks after being put through to the speaker system of the cabin. "Miss Semingsworth and Miss Weston have been taken hostage by the Anarchs. A helicopter will be awaiting you when you land," the Prince relays the exact location of the warehouse, "You are due to land in forty-five minutes. I will be at the scene in twenty." The statement is clear. He will be successful in rescuing his charges, or they must carry out the mission without him, forever.


"Through that door," Victoria more mouths than speaks in the direction of the Club Manager and the Prince. Tripwires and other security devices neatly, invisibly disarmed, the trio prepares to make an entrance extraordinaire, hardly avoidable in company of the Prince.

The door opens and five sets of eyes look up to the empty entryway. Mason, huddling over Lucille, glances over to the four Anarchs who guard and taunt their prisoners: Roderick, Marcus, Luther, and Raymond. With a swish of fine, perfected grace, a creature of awe-inspiring terror appears inside the entrance. The Prince looks with disgust at a random face, Roderick. Turning to Raymond, he commands, "Attack him!" he points with hate at Roderick, the force of his domination coupled with his mind bending beguilement sending Raymond flying at his comrade, knives and fangs brandished.

In the split second of confusion, Mason yanks the stake out of her master's heart. A wail fills the air, not borne of pain, but of horror and mental fracturing. Lucille shakes and writhes helplessly in the arms of Mason. The Club Manager appears before the two cringing figures, placing his body between them and the rest of the room. He lifts the two to their feet and half ushers, half carries them to the exit. All three are hurled forward suddenly, some force colliding mightily into the childe of the prince from behind. A seldom seen rage-filled Club Manager spins, beast full-bear, aspect terrifying. "Flee," he almost growls, his eyes filled with chilling threats, his demand not to be disobeyed. Marcus spins and starts to flee, dropping the stake that failed to find the heart of the Club Manager though his rock-like skin.

Inside the room, Luther shrinks away from the blur of the two fighting Brujah, and from the weight of the Prince's demeanor. His eyes dart nervously, his paranoia growing suddenly. He looks down in disbelief, barely mouthing the words "Oh, shi..." before a stake appears sticking out the front of his chest. He falls to the ground with the sickening thud that only a corpse can make. Unseen hands grab the package and drag it towards the door where the Club Manager, Mason, and Lucille have already exited. A crash is heard from the back room, a kind of scrambling. The Prince stands alone in the room for several instants, looking the fighting/defending Brujah, and then do the door in the back. He narrows his eyes, and decides painfully, verbally, "Another time gentleman. And soon." He whisks out, meeting hostages, rescuers, and staked package at car nearby. The driver races to a helicopter several blocks from there, flying them all away home, to Oxy Tower.