I recall vividly my first memory, almost sixty years ago, as clearly as I see your pretty little blonde face now. Fire roared around me, the floors slick and bathed in red blood. My beast woke me, writhing within, screaming amongst the flames as the wooden banisters holding the roof creaked from the inferno that gnawed at it. Bodies littered the floor around me. There were dying breaths, guttural gasps, and the moans of weeping Sisters all around me. Yes. My first reaction. Sisters. Nuns. Dead, dying or in shock all around me. Glassy eyes staring upwards, mouths hung open like barn doors, tongues flopping out like dead-bloodied-fish.
My head hurt. There was a burnt mark upon my brow, as you can plainly see with your doe eyes right now; something I never able to fully hide. I sit up. My clothes are rags. Torn beyond recognition. My long, spindly, twisted fingers gripping the shaft of an axe. I stand. Blood drips from my brow – kine blood – and I sip at it, licking it from my lips like sweet juice. A woman screams at visage, the only one I truly know and remember, for you see pretty thing – this is my first waking memory. I am born into this. All I am, all I was before, means nothing when you remember shit all beyond a blood bath I was brought back into.
The street air was cooler. I remember this as I staggered out, fading from the view of the many fire-fighters and officers waving their hands, hoses and signs in panic. I stood and watched from a lonely hilltop as the nunnery collapsed amongst the screams of the survivors. The cool air whispered to me of dawn and I slipped into the sewers.
I remembered nothing. The year was 1955, the date August 8th, and I was a Kindred and had been for a long time before this. I stalked the hallways of power, true power, and found myself unfamiliar to the Kindred in the city and my ilk in the sewers. I was stranger in body, mind and place. Those were the first days. Imagine the anguish of knowing nothing, only the monstrosity that stares at you from watery reflections. I took a name. It was the name of a man whose clothes I removed after drinking him to near death. “Cedric”. No last name. No last name was ever needed. I feasted for nights on end before presenting myself, something in my mind told me I should, and the signs of what to look for. It was a foolish hope that led me to believe that my instincts would bring forth lost memories – it never happened.
And so I watched with growing distaste how the Kindred court revelled in something so beautiful, which had apparently been pulled from me before even this traumatic event. It angered me how I was left alone in the dark, truly pushed aside, with no history and unfairly laden with suspicion. My own brothers and sisters abandoned me – a true monster amongst monsters. I began to laugh at their antics. Their games of pretend-to-play-human. Their Masquerade was a joke. So I took my revenge one night. I removed buckets of acid from a local warehouse and during a nightly soiree, proceeded to soak the halls and its inhabitants in it before setting their building on fire. I then butchered my own “brothers and sisters” with ease for forcing my hand. For forgetting their place. For abandoning me to this darkness.
I was hunted. I had to leave. I was ultimately untraceable; no one knew me aside from my form, and my form was hideous to the point where few ever wished to see it – and I butchered them all. My humanity suffered. Do not cry, pretty blonde thing, I tell you this because like so many in a line of betrayals towards me, I wish to emphasize that yours pales in comparison to this first betrayal by my Clan.
I remain now, as you put it so mildly when you believed yourself in pleasant company, Anarch trash. Your faction wars never interested me. No Sabbat or Camarilla pursuits interest me. I am a loner. Now and forever.
Now, little Torreador, I will have to once again shift from this backwater trash of a town. Why? Because you asked too many questions. You wanted the truth. My truth. Now you have it. And having listened… I’m sure you wish that you hadn’t. I am no diablerist, pretty thing, as you suspected. I am but a servant to my own instincts. And now I will have to leave town, but only once after I have… ensured I will not be pursued. And you, my lovely former lover. You will meet the sun with a fake smile, just like the one you flashed me when we first met; when you first thought you’d met a perfect treat. When you first believed you could suck my soul from my body – you little bitch! Shhh… shhh. Don’t worry; I’ll make sure you smile. Let me just fetch my knife.