(Based on Alejandro Melchor Lombardo's Works)
by Hector S. Ibarraran (12 May 95 | received by WWW)
This short story is dedicated to Alejandro Melchor Lombardo, who inspired me to write this, for example, Paul is a hitzilopochli posing as a Brujah. Thank You, I hope we can get in contact. Sorry about my spelling, and I hope everybody enjoy this short story.
It's late, the night take over Mexico City, and the rain is there just to remind me about the way my dreams die in the sea of confusion. I can feel my buts splash on the asphalt.
It's so cold... and I still have something to do.
I light a cigarette, my throat starts to each again, I cough, and no body seems to care about it.
People keep walking, they are so dispiriting, so insensible, as the big skyscrapers around my dead body.
"Hey!, sorry man, I'm late again!" say a familiar voice behind my shoulder. "Hello Paul, don't worry I'm used to it" I answer without even looking back. "Well are we goin' to stay here or what, you know?, I'm freezing here" is the same voice again.
When I finally turn around I can see Paul familiar face again: his dark skin, sharp nose, long hair in a pony tail, and of course, his eyes, his sarcastic look that is good just to remind me about how bad my life can get. "Move your ass Gangrel, is wet here", the Brujah talks for third time. I start following him through a web of people, little stands cars and buildings.
I have never liked the city they are to big an noise for me, and the worst thing is tat they remind me about her, abut the way she died.
Is weird to see the contrast between me and Paul. he moves so naturally between everybody, he can even stop to say hello to the city rats he call friends, or to share a coin with the Indian homeless living on the streets. He is perfectly dress, wearing only black; a big trench coat, Levis, and a nice shirt, and me, well, in first place is almost impossible to keep up with him, and everybody is staring at me, maybe because of the rags I'm wearing for clothes or because of the paintings on my face, I don't know.
After a long walk we get to our destination: "Charco Azul", a dark alley behind a old bus station, in where some lupines and mages get together to discuss about the actual situation of the city, Paul and I are the only vampires in the group. See, we are supposed to be fighting an already lost battle against a negative force that the garou like to call "the wyrm". But my, myself, I don't have a name for it, like I don't have a name for anything since she died.
We walk in to the place, just to find that there is already several in people there, most of them, to judge by their smell and dirty appearance are Bone Gnawers, the others, I don' know, and I don't care.
I sit next to Paul, who carefully makes sure that his nice attire stays clean.
At the center of the circle I can see a fire place, kept by gasoline and the persistent Gnawers. We don't wait for to long when a dark and tall figure walks in to the center of our human circle.
"Welcome, and thank you for coming" Father Machete talks a last, his voice is full of sorrow and pain. After a quick glance through the crowd the werewolf starts to talk: "as we old know our city is facing a great crisis, in old the aspects of it's existence, it looks to us... that there is no hope any more, and yet, there is one" his eyes shine, reminding me about one of those T.V. evangelists, but there is something special about him, there is something that caught me, and is not even what he is saying or the way he is acting, is like if a God were talking trough his mouse. He continues "there is hope brothers and sisters! and that hope is us, yes..." . Machete shuts up. All the sudden a dead body falls on the center of the circle spraying father machete with blood and guts, in silence everybody looks around, I can almost smell the confusion in the air. After a few seconds that go away like hours. Then I hear a scream that freezes my hard on fear, "BLACK SPIRALS!". The creatures are every were, surrounding us, laughing at us, as they jump towards our little group.
"The priest!, kill him!" blares the leader of the monsters. By the time I look some of the Gnawers already have changed to crinos form, I look for Paul, as wolf claws grow from my finger nails. When I finally see him he is already in to the battle: his eyes glow in a eerie red, I can see his bloody fangs, and his face, ho! his face, it makes me think that he is enjoying the kill, like a true warrior, and not like the winy brujah he is. I'm ripped off my thoughts when the claw of one of the creatures hews my back, I turn around and hit, damn!, I fail, the monster laugh at my fruitless attempts to ripe it's skin off. Then, just when I'm getting reedy to face the final dead, the monster body disappear in front of me, my brain resists to accept what is happening. Now behind of where the leviathan was, I can see a kid on a wheel chair; he smiles, moving surprisingly fast for his condition, his black hair looks almost funny making a weird contrast with his fat face.
"Thanks kid!" I say."No problem broh" is his reply " by the way, my name is Jaime. Before I can even start to answer another spiral jumps between me and the kid, I strike. Then everything is pain, blood, finally the beast takes over me... all is red now.
When I control my soul again I see the destroyed body of the creature.
The battle is over, the dancers dead, as two mages and some lupines.
Paul is helping Jaime to incorporate, it looks like he fell from his chair during the riot, both of them look fine, but I can't say the same about some of the others. Father Machete is unconscious, some other Garou help him. Later we hear the sound of sirens. We get rid of the dead bodies, some cry for the dead, some enjoy the victory, but not me, I can spill my bloody tears for her, for my love.
Later the meeting is rescheduled. Some wolves slide in to the Umbra, the mages go on a van. At the end Paul and I decide to walk home."It's being a long night", I say "yes" Paul reply "I love this fukin' city"