"The Holy Inquisition has been a thorn in Kindred's side for generations. Elite and fanatical hunters with the considerable resources of the Vatican and its select faithful have supplied them with information and arms throughout their shadowed Crusade, and despite their best efforts, we have endured.

Things have changed now. Our existence has been revealed to the highest echelons of governments the world over. And the Vatican has been only too happy to coordinate and share all their experience and lore, now bolstered with unlimited resources, technology, and the full might of every major intelligence network on the Globe. It has not been an easy fight.

Worst of all are the elite Inquisitors. What few contacts we have managed to keep in their system inform us that the best of their number possesses powers we can only describe as miraculous. And on top of that, some have even dabbled into the study of magic, compounding their threat even further. We cannot lose heart though. They wear the trappings of Saints and even use their powers. But they are still only mortal, and we shall bend them as we have all others.

Statement from Ventrue Strategoi, Lucien Kendal. Currently in hiding after near destruction at the hands of Inquisitor //REDACTED//.

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"Ye I walk through the valley of shadow..." The hunter's thoughts were pious, in both recitation and intent. "I shall fear no evil."

And there was much evil here. Not immediately around him, but in this city. In Phoenix. He'd been forced to smuggle himself here, Isaac Sharpe's minions had proven clever enough to smoke out most means of entering quietly.

But one path remained undiscovered. A small holdout of the so-called "Anarchs" had survived purgation at the hands of the Prince of this cesspool. And using that link an entrance to the city proper had been secured. And under cover of night, the Hunter had managed to enter the city through a network of tunnels leading into the sewer, and then finally resurfacing in this dank bar.

It was a wreck of a place. Calling it condemned did no justice to its rotting walls, its broken staircases, and the many bullet holes that riddled it and its worthless furniture.

But even this place's rot could not hide still worse corruption from the hunter's discernment.

"I can sense you." The hunter hefted the briefcase he'd carried the whole trek here, placing it on top of the wrecked bar. "You are hiding outside the door, and hoping your enhanced senses will allow you to observe me while keeping you safe."

"I don't need to hide from you." The voice was brash, defiant, and just as the hunter knew: came from outside the building. "You came here alone?"

"Correct." The briefcase was opened now, and its contents open. A handgun of unknown design, covered in ancient runes and accompanied with rounds of an irregular caliber. That was the most prominent piece. Beneath it was several changes of clothes, some electronic devices, and a small journal bound with a full key lock.

As he sifted through the contents, the hunter could feel his contact's presence shift. "If you were hoping that may isolated state would equate to weakness, you will be disappointed." He did not care if the creature heeded his words or not. But it would be more expedient if he did.

No such luck. The creature burst from the ceiling, wood splintered and the noise was so loud it nearly blotted out the monster's roar. Its supernatural speed was greater than a bullet's and would have caught any normal man off guard.

The Hunter merely sidestepped, caught the creature, and then threw him into the adjacent wall. The move was so strong that it left a person-sized impression alongside all the other break marks.

To dissuade further annoyances, The Hunter lifted his hands and called upon the magics he had been taught. It had taken him many years to marshal his powers into lifting a single stone, but now, as he lifted his gloved hands, his assailant rose from and was now suspended from the ground by invisible bonds.

"You-you, you're a mage?" Fear. It shone in this creature's eyes like the beam of a lighthouse. He even shivered, his whole body tensing and shaking at the thought of his possible destruction.

"Fear from the dead and damned. Pathetic." This simple display of power would not be enough, the hunter knew that from experience. So he walked toward the suspended vampire, forced his mouth open with naught by brute strength, and tore out of his fangs.

The things scream was earsplitting, and would have elicited pity...had it been from a real person. The hunter simply let the creature screech until the pain subsided, and then held out the fang for the creature to look up at.

"I did not come alone because out of trust, creature." He took fang between two of his fingers. "I came here alone because neither you nor the majority of your kind would pose any threat to me" And he crushed the tooth into powder between the two digits.

That finally put the little beast in his place. And there was now a look of profound respect and even deeper terror on his face.

Satisfied with this, the hunter turned back to his gear. He made his walk slow at first. Partly to see if his new ally would attempt another futile assault, and but mainly to see if his gear was still there. He had no intention of walking back to his possessions, only to turn and see his own weapons turned against him.

Luckily, his weapons and clothes were still where he left them. And he would need a change of clothes. He was perfectly comfortable in his priest's cassock and jacket, but proud as he was of the uniform, it was very distinctive. This hunt would require discretion...in the early stages at least.

"First we blind them. I shall target the local Camarilla fools. Once they have been disassembled, I shall target the Prince herself, and the Archon next." It was grueling, but necessary work. And having passive subordinates and cowards for soldiers would not help.

"Did I break your legs in addition to your pride?" He turned towards the vampire on the ground. Indeed, the beast hadn't moved an inch from his place since he had been put in it.

"I'm sorry, man. I mean, sir." The pathetic figure in the wrecked clothes stood up, though he walked over to his new master cautiously. "I didn't know if it was ok to stand."

On further examination, pathetic did no justice to this vampire's condition.

"You are called Lawrence?"

"Yeah."

"In my experience, Lawrence-" The hunter closed his case, turning to his charge with a neutral expression. The creature's docility now went beyond the expected, and now begged curiosity. "-The members of Clan Brujah are of an inflammatory nature."

Lawrence bent his head, not bothering to disguise his shame. "Yeah, that's us." He looked to be a beaten and neglected dog.

"And what has doused your flame?"

"I'm no Cam, but we still did their dirty work." The beaten thing's chin lifted, if only just. "We kept civilians out of our business, and we put down Sabbat and worse while they hid in their mansions and sucked off their A-List whores..." Lawrence could finally look the hunter in the eye, and his once doused fury seemed lit again.

"But they still treated us like shit, and when they realized we were running the city better than they ever could, they turned on us." Those eyes burned with renewed fury, which grew further still as the vengeful dirge continued. "They sent people, who pretended to be our friends. I loved that girl and she still..."

Anger gave way to hurt, and several of the blank spaces in the Inquisition's message began to fill. The Hunter would have felt some pity for this little man, but that would have been wasted, and perhaps even unwanted.

"So, you have decided to repay one betrayal with another?" He couldn't help but let his intrigue slip. The Hunter was familiar with elder vampires, old fools who thought to turn the Inquisition against their rivals. But their reasons were always political, this was the first he had seen of true vengeance.

"That's right." No more hurt was in Lawrence's voice, only conviction. "My "Kindred" decided to beat me down. I don't owe them anything."

"You should know, Lawrence: It is unlikely that my superiors will allow me to...exempt you, from my hunt."

"I figured, that's why I tried to get the jump on you."

"Ah, you thought perhaps to take control of my mind. Perhaps even turn me into a ghoul."

Lawrence nodded. His plan had failed, but that childish mentality of "I gave it my best shot!" could still be seen in his thinned face.

"Well, Lawrence: You shall see the death of your foes. But only, if you cooperate with every order I give. I know that is difficult for you, but it is your only avenue to success and peace. Do you find these terms acceptable?"

"Not the best hand, but I don't have much else going yeah?"

"You speak strangely. But it is good you acknowledge this."

"Alright." This contract between the two put a new light into Lawrence's eyes. And he looked eager to begin the fight as soon as possible. "When do we start?"

"That will depend on you." The hunter was marching out the front door and gave no hint of waiting for Lawrence to catch up. "You offered your help in breaching your former compatriots' holdings here. Can you deliver?"

"Yeah, of course." The young Brujah almost looked insulted at this, and then stood straighter as he continued. "I still know some people. They don't like the Cams anymore than I do. And as long as I don't mention you, they'll chip in." There was some pride in that last statement as if noting an obvious safety measure were a great act of cunning.

"Pathetic." The hunter's contempt for this little bloodsucker was matched only for his disgust in the locale. The outside of this rathole bar hidden any better than the interior. The abandoned gas station surrounding it looked to have been plundered by the Vikings of yore. It's one redeeming feature was a decent view of Phoenix proper.

The whole city shone as if it were a moonlit reflection against the ocean. Not the worst sight, and it almost made one forget the stench of monsters and undead that infested the place.

"By the way, I didn't catch your name?" Lawrence had injected what little courtesy he could manage into this one question. And he still sounded like a spoiled child forced to converse with strange relatives.

"I am Ruprecht Eisler. Bane of Clan Tzimisce, liberator of Vienna, and eternal enemy of Isaac Sharpe."