New Wave Requiem

Pulled to Bits

My servant has done well and I shall reward him for his work. I know where the BLASPHEMER lies, and his sins will be the first that I eat.

I believe I edge ever closer to the precipice of this cliff. Seeing and conversing with myself in that hallway over the smoking exploded brains of a frightened old man; I think I might be crazy as the rest of them believe me to be. If I am, then may God help them all.

The old man shot me. Thankkfully that doesn’t matter much these days; he did pay a terrible price for shooting a messenger of Longinius, for even our kind don’t recover well from having no blood and then being shot directly in the skull. The whore, the infidel, and the good doctor all seem to be under some stress as the whore’s pawn decided to become a queen and created a neighborhood that will be harder for all of us to feed in. Additionally, they assaulted some of the local enforcement, which is never good.

I have asked my kinsman for permission to create a damned helper for myself. I sense that very soon I may start on a path from which I cannot return, and I may need someone to carry on my work after me.

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Who Killed Mr. Moonlight

Sending people to their deaths to feed this thing once a month seems wrong somehow. Longinius’ only comments about working with those outside our condition really don’t seem to indicate that this relationship is a positive thing. I feel as if I have lost some part of myself here.

We allow this thing for no particularly good reason beyond not understanding or knowing how to bring it down and remove it permanently from our territory. This rankles the Old Man, but the infidel, whore, and hypocrite seem fine with it. I have accepted it because I do not think we can defeat it, and we were given the right to determine the food for this blighted spirit. I feel as if I have sinned nonetheless and must do some penance for this deed.

God is unhappy with my acceptance of this – it detracts me from my course. Tracking the sacriligeous of the Damned and sending them on is my task and it is this I must devote my energy to. The humane parts of myself must be stripped away like layers, and I must become the Angel of Destruction I am meant to be.

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Seek and Destroy

Deciding the fate of a faith’s direction in a board meeting where a part of the congregation simply attack and deride each other seems less than Godly and all too human. Yet I was there, played my role, and did what seemed necessary. I do believe that God will certainly approve of our choice as the whole family of hypocrites was removed from power.

What a colossal waste of time and energy. Political bickering resulting in nothing, and a few old vampires lose some face. Whoo hoo. I have things to do, plans to follow. By now, my fellow vassals have noted that I am far more composed than I have been in the past, less forceful in trying to convert others to faith. My path no longer lies that way.

I have been successful in removing a small sin from the world. It was not in the way that I would prefer, but the stain removed nonetheless. The next one I will try for a more personal approach, for the mortals are adequate for picking off a straggler here and there but may not have the means for more robust foes.

I am spiraling in a new way. Contacting food and setting it upon the hunter like a pack of dogs turned against their master. Setting a mortal on the path to damnation, though to be fair he was well on his way without me. I hope that this is truly what the Lord wants and expects from me.

The Virgin smiles at me, no longer talking. I can only hope that she approves of my new helper and the work that I have begun.

The dreams continue to haunt me, to eat at my rest. In them I do not just drink the blood, but eat the flesh of the ones I have set myself against. They are too blasphemous to be coming from God, they must surely be tempting wickedness from the Devil. Perhaps I will need to fast some more, and ask God what he wills.

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Institutionalized

I am beginning to see things that I believe to be from God, but they could be from Satan, the Strix, or from the confines of an extremely unwell mind, which is the opinion of my fellow vassals. I do not know what to do now, for the Virgin spoke and sent a message, and then I saw some creature that resembled the whore of Babylon more than an angelic messenger, telling me that I had been chosen to cleanse the vampire population of its sinners, much as Longinius was to do for the mortals. I am conflicted as this does not seem like something that God would condone.

Kill the sinners amongst us. That could take years, the rest of eternity. Steve, Damian, the whore, the hypocrite, all those poncy Invictus, the devil worshipping Crone…this is all beyond my abilities at this point. I may need to make a trip to Harlem via the Subway.

Kill them, kill every last sinner among them and eat their souls and sins. I have no hope of redemption, but I may perhaps be able to assuage the sins of others and give them the chance I am denied.

Perhaps they are right, perhaps I am afflicted. I have always felt so different, but this may not be because God has chosen me as his champion, but because some madness has carried with me into my unlife. I know I saw a roomful of people whom I know and trust withihn reason turn into a horde of demons coming for my soul. While I was certainly sympathetic to the desire to clean Damian’s area of the homos, I cannot be party to such wholesale destruction of everyone. I do not think the doctor is the kind I need, but where do the undead find a couch to lie upon?

This belief that I am somehow mad that is clearly gaining strength amongst my ‘friends’ is something I cannot understand. God speaks to my damned soul, and I must carry out his work.

I shall be the Lord’s vengeance upon those who have strayed, given into wickedness and temptation, allowed whores and harlots and charlatans to make their way through this city. I will cleanse them all. Ezekiel 25:17 “The path of the righteous man is beset on all sides by the inequities of the selfish and the tyranny of evil men. Blessed is he who, in the name of charity and good will, shepherds the weak through the valley of the darkness. For he is truly his brother’s keeper and the finder of lost children. And I will strike down upon thee with great vengeance and furious anger those who attempt to poison and destroy my brothers. And you will know I am the Lord when I lay my vengeance upon you.”

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I know there's something going on

I have begun my campaign to bring others to the teachings of Longinius and learned to respect those whose faith may differ but are not as godless as those like Stephen. The Baroness knows of God and at least in the brief interactions I have had with her, seems to truly be a devout woman. The salon was an opportunity to put the teachings out there, to let the others know that there is a reason for their damnation. An Invictus salon is not likely to win me any converts, but at least I am there doing what needs done.

Salon was useless and dull, a waste of energy. These sinners know nothing of Longinius and wish to hear even less. They are too busyily caught up in their trappings of wealth and power to truly understand their damnation. They are those who shall remain chained when the end times finally come; food for the owls.

They will all suffer

4H spreads, and those Damned to the south of us, who feed from the homosexual filth, have infected themselves and seek succor. Perhaps the threat of contaminating themselves and an even larger number of people will check their reckless feeding habits, or even inspire them to drive the thrice damned homosexuals from their turf. It seems that even the mighty are not immune, for the Regent has contracted it as well. More alarming is that somone appears to have intentionally infected his herd, and by extension himself, with it in a matter of days. It appears that there will be conflict, but who is the enemy here?

Fucking idiots, feeding from the God damned faggots have given themselves 4H. It seems just retribution from God for their sins. Were it not for the rather sizeable boons that my fellow vassals will gain, I’d say let them rot in the hell they have made. There is an even larger shitting mess now, though. Someone has declared war on the regent of the turf and in the course of days, inflicted his sick fuck herd with 4h, which means he also has it now. He was clean just a few days ago. There is a storm brewing, maybe a war and this appears to be the opening shot. I hope that me and mine can keep our heads down and dodge the fangs.

The Seven appear to have found me and put me on the list for extinction, yet the Hypocrite tells me he could pick up no sign that anyone had been in or near my haven, nor that any doom had been writ upon my walls. I suppose it’s entirely possible that he is one of them, in on the plan, or just a dupe for something like the Owls. I shall be more cautious and relocate myself somewhere safer. It is time to move, for even if he is not in league against me, I will not have one such as him knowing where I dwell.

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Transmission

I am finding it difficult to accept this new fellowship of which I am now a member. They appear to be devout, but their devotion is no longer to the Lord or Christ, but to Longinius, who supposedly thrust the spear into Christ’s side at Golgatha and was damned forever. To give up the beliefs that are such a part of who I am is … troubling.

And so I can leave what I was behind and assume this new life, where it is my duty to turn mortals towards the path of the Lord with no hope of personal salvation. What the fuck? Should I truly be damned? For what end? Who did this to me? Where should I place the blame for this change that has forever left me unclean and unholy regardless of whatever penance I might do. I am no better than some demon, except I am not to tempt the mortals from righteousness, but rather frighten them back towards it.

The Lord has turned forever from me, and I am truly Damned. My only duty is to make sure that the mortals remember God and to keep him holy. I am unsure if I can accept this belief. Or am I simply being too proud to think that the Lord may have tasked me with this much as Jonah was tasked with preaching to the heathens so long ago. Will I follow his example or accept what I am and do what I have been given to do?

It is a slow transition to a state of mind that turns everything I believe sort of sideways and puts me not as Job, as I had seen myself, but as the devil who is to test his faith. I was too fucking proud I suppose to believe that I truly was damned for whatever reason I was chosen for this embrace into perpetual sin.

As a last act of penance, I have arranged with Dominic to create a shelter for the runaway youth who everyday flock to this hell to become writers or actors or whatever proud dreams draw them to this pit of iniquity. Few if any make these dreams come true, instead becoming the strippers, prostitutes, pimps, drug dealers, thieves, and all the other sinners collected here. Maybe I can start here and return them to the Lord.

Dominic suggested that I should turn this small bit of hope into a diner. I initially thought he could go fuck himself, but if I am to become what the Lord has ordained, then I am going to have to feed from mortals and not feel regret or anxiety or guilt. Longinius does at least hold to what I had already decided for myself, that the truly innocent should not be consumed from and that I would know if they were in fact innocent by the inability to do so. Simple really.

The Lord saw the evil that took place here before our arrival, and punished the previous Vassals by sending the Owls after them. Longinius speaks of this too, that in the last days, the Owls would come to judge us. Some will be consumed, some will offer themselves to the owl, some will continue their work in hell, and then there are the ones who appear to be saved…So there is some hope after all of redemption.

Interesting that the hypocrite and the old man were not able to relate the last bit of Longinius’ writing to what had occurred here with the Owl. I certainly had no knowledge of it before then, but now I can see that that was God’s judgement on those here, and it would seem they willingly gave themselves to it.

And so it is that I have begun to formulate a list of heretics and sinners amongst our own who must see the light, even if it means sending them on to judgement. The whore witch, that blasphemer – Steven. It is a small place to begin.

Where shall I begin with passing the Word to other’s? Elysium perhaps? I expect that may eventually lead to trouble, but it is a manner in which I am used to preaching. Shall I adjust to something smaller and less presumptuous? I think I shall perhaps begin simply with passing out some small pamphlets, not unlike those I handed out prior to becoming damned.

I do not know what to make of these dreams. To be sure, the act of punishing the whore and the hypocrite seems fine, but I have made my bed with these for now, and I lack the strength to take them to task for their misdeeds. The whore tests me, pushes my buttons, tries to egg me into something. The hypocrite is useful for now. The heathen I do not yet know well enough to consider, and perhaps as long as he thinks I am as mad as the proverbial hatter, he will not consider me either.

I have taken a page from memories of the war on TV. The trap is springs, broken glass, and bits of metal. It should at the very least protect me a little, should anyone find me down here. The presence of the law here last week made me more than a bit nervous.

Pray Pray Prey

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Cruel to be kind
Katherine Wick

I mistreat my toys. I play with them, dress them up, bend them at the joints, then ultimately break them when I’m bored. I’m getting tired of my tea parties with the mortals, they haven’t done anything for me worth remembering. Other than the occasional moments of fury they can get worked into we have stopped having much in common. Rico is my only tie to them at the moment, what’s good for him is ultimately good for me, so if I don’t maintain and cultivate, my little pumpkin patch with whither and die without budding. My last reprisal for assaulting my ghoul had missed it’s point, the Irish don’t even know why they got punished. My options are to either reveal myself and risk alienation or worse, or have them fear me and obey. I would be happy with the latter, but again I get tired of my toys so quickly.

I notice some of the same words coming out of my mouth that I heard from my sire many years ago. He was a foul heartless beast and I fear I’m quickly turning into what I loathed so much. I have some soul searching to do during this relative peace in Hell’s Kitchen, I hope that I have enough time to figure something out. If the stories of the strix are true then I may need to think of my own skin rather than my emotional state at the moment.

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Hungry like the wolf
Katherine Wick

I feel different, hungrier, more powerful. I don’t know when it happened but something has changed, inside of me my blood covered self smiles and stretches it’s long sinewy body. I can’t help but think that what I did to the McDunnogh Brothers was a bit overboard and that’s what put me over the edge, made me more like my sire, a bit more monstrous.

The McDunnogh Brothers deserved every inch of my wrath, pun intended. There’s always a line someone shouldn’t cross and they did. An eye for an eye, it makes sense in that horribly cliché biblical kind of way. At least we know Donnie will never try to rape anyone ever again.

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Stray cat strut
Katherine Wick

The others wonder whether I’m scared, I am. They don’t believe we’re dealing with the Unholy, but it seems all too likely. I don’t know her ways, but from what I’ve seen, they are more than fearsome. Maybe this is a portend of her arrival, either way I don’t want to be around to see it, it never ends well.

The other vassals have been offed, each in their own morbid way. The most recent, O’Brien who was forced to ram a stake through his chest, or Rose, the centuries old beast who possibly met an end at the claws of her ghoul cats or the body snatcher himself.

The beast’s ghoul horde was left to endure without their master, each bound to her blood and left to rot. If Rose didn’t give herself up to Jeremy (the remaining vassal who personally killed O’Brien) their end would have at least been fast.

They’re a tenacious bunch, they’ve managed to survive, by luring stupid neonates into the manor to be harvested for vitae to keep them strong and alive. I respect them, but they need to know their place. At the moment, all they are is a liability.

The coterie has agreed that they can be useful, if I can control the alpha, I can control the horde. They’ve seen what we’re up against, the terrible birds, the ones in my dreams, and in my past. The black birds with hollow beaks, the unholy ones.

Fuck…I need to sleep, I’m starting to sound like the preacher.

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Murder By Numbers

We’re the Vassals of Hell’s Kitchen for a reason, and that’s because the previous ones were destroyed by Something. We’re sitting on a time bomb and we don’t know when it’ll go off, who set the clock, or why.

So, I’ve been doing some research. We’ll, not just me, but I’m the one getting the real info. The others are just doing what any half-capable Drinker could do, coming up with the previous Vassals’ phone numbers and stuff. Kat even found a whole haven location all by herself!

Anyway, so I’ve been going around to the various ex-havens and talking to walls and dead Drinkers. It seems that Something can possess Damned, Drinkers, and dead Kine. Walking in their skins, it destroyed the previous Vassals and their Drinkers to the last. Well, there was one notable exception, or more like a lot of little exceptions. The Crazy Cat Lady had this huge swarm of Drinker-cats that Something wasn’t able to deal with directly. It killed her anyway though, mainly because she was crazy. She should have gone down clawing, but whatever. I think Something might still be hunting those cats though. The cats said something about a continued fight with The Birds, and we think Something is bird-related. Kat thinks it’s The Unholy, but I think our bird is more of the quiet type.

See, Something didn’t just kill a bunch of Damned and Drinkers; he left some blood-scrawl too. Something mainly drew big round pairs of eyes, one with an extra couple of hand prints that sort of looks a little bit more owl-like, and it also drew “I.II.VII”. I don’t know what’s up with the numbers. I know what VII means, but that doesn’t really clear anything up. I might need to research that some more. I wasn’t really sure about The Birds and eye-drawings connection until I had a dream about a big damn owl chasing me in the dark. The dream ended like I imagine do the lives of most field-mice, with a glimpse of a pair of giant owl-eyes. We don’t normally have those kinds of dreams; that’s for Kine, so I figure God’s trying to tell me something.

Anyway, we might need those cats later. Hopefully my associates don’t do something stupid and kill them. I know Gramps and Haji want them dead, mainly on account of them hunting Damned and keeping them torpid-but-well-fed. The way I see it, they’re valuable future servants, as long as they don’t fuck us over, and I’m sure they’ll try. Fuckin’ cats.

Oh shit! Maybe the cats are the fuse on this bomb! If Something’s still busy trying to deal with all of them, maybe that’s why we haven’t gotten what’s coming to us yet!

Dr. Vitale

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