Chapter 2 : Expecting some-one taller...
After the three of us returned to UK and checked clear of contagion, we were stuck on 'Light Duties'. At SOTM, that means you're co-opted by any committee that needs another member: keeping quorums is *hard* when folk get bleeped and run...
I was promptly appointed SOTM's representative to a regional panel discussing Vampire issues. It seemed a waste of time because they'd never seen, met or communicated with a live Vampire, never mind had to hunt one. Their entire information was some scanty briefing notes, yet they'd spent a year talking about Vampire crypto-culture, building bridges, building trust, earnestly recycling the usual platitudes on Minorities, getting absolutely no-where. None-the-less, they'd turned out several detailed reports, and seemed determined to continue the series. Naturally, they considered my Vampire hunting experience to be disadvantageous, if not actively counter-productive...
I sat through that interminable meeting, watching the clock count the minutes my next meal was late. I was ravenous. I was only there because a quirk of Amnesty law made Vampirism a 'Notifiable Disease', requiring SOTM input. I was only there because I actually knew a few things about Vampires, mostly how to kill Rogues and survive it. I was only there because I'd run out of better things to do. I was getting really, really hungry, and grumpy with it...
"... Now, before we conclude today's productive session, I must ask if our Member from SOTM has any thoughts on stimulating cross-cultural communication ?"
The words came out before I realised, "Student Exchange ?"
They laughed, applauded my quip and adjourned the meeting. My mistake: it went in the Minutes. Those were circulated, perhaps wider than expected...
I still do not know who whispered the unthinkable, 'Why not ?'
I was dissecting a stack of low-level outbreak reports when Liz called me in, "Hi, Boss, who's died, and where ?"
She slid the letter across to me, "Read this."
" ... Student Exchange ... Cultural Immersion ... Proposal ... Discussion ... Technical Feasability ... Confirmed ? Authorised ? Proceed ? Me ?? You cannot be serious !!"
"Wait, read this, too..."
I skimmed the FX brochure, read it slower, carefully read it again, "Sure you haven't a nice Ebola carrier for me to trace ? Or a contagious TB3 ?"
"No, this is your next assignment."
"Why ?"
"You are very thin--"
"I'm eating a dozen tiny meals a day, re-gained a couple of pounds. Doc's happy."
"You'll need to cut back." Liz shrugged, counted fingers, "You're quick witted, you're careful, you get along with the strangest people and, most important--"
"Expendable ?"
" 'Where Angels Fear To Tread.' " Liz nodded.
We don't mention the silent second half of the Hot Zoners' Toast, 'Absent Friends'.
"Okay, so I've done some daft things..."
"You have the knack of being in the right place at the right time, and finding the right thing to say or do--"
"I've been lucky--"
" 'Luck favours the Prepared.' " Liz mis-quoted, "They've asked for you specifically."
"Why ?"
"It is... complicated." Liz allowed, "Part is your record of kills--"
"Revenge ? I've a dozen to my name..."
"All Rogues." Liz stated, "Tell me: How many civilians have killed more than one Rogue ?"
"Excluding Road Kills ? D'uh, there's Quiet Mac, works out of Formby--"
"Ghillie's son, ex Army."
"Joe, from Wharton ?"
"Retired Safari guide, a White Hunter."
"Mike in the Peak District ?"
"Outward Bound Centre's Survivalist."
"Jones in mid-Wales ?"
"Psycho: should be in Broadmoor."
"East Coast, the Reverend Peters ?"
"Crazy like a fox." Liz rolled her eyes, "Thinks he's a Knight Templar..."
"Hmm... New Forest area, Phil something ?"
"Park Ranger, natural woodsman."
"L.C. in London ?"
"She's a Slayer."
"Ah." I'd wondered, "But I'm not--"
"A Slayer ? True, you don't have the reflexes."
"Or the legs !" I quipped, "At least we can agree on that--"
"And, lastly, there's you." Liz stated, "But you're different. You're not a Hunter. You're just a nice bloke with a knack--"
"I do the leg-work, flush Rogues and blow them away. Un-sporting, but effective."
"As I said, you have a knack... " Liz shuffled her papers, "Might be something more: local Vampire community calls you 'RogueBane'."
"What ?"
"It's a Vampire title, like an Old West Marshal. You're doing it already, but didn't know. They want to make it official, and help you do it better..."
"You are serious ? They want me --a HomoSap-- to do their internal law-enforcement ?"
"Yes."
"Shit..." I worked it through, "Guarantees ?"
"Three ways: Your swap, hostages and something they call Blood Trade." Liz caught my look, "Purely symbolic, they know we can't digest much blood. Makes you Kin."
"Shit..." I shook my head, "They are serious about this. Do I have a choice ?"
"Take it or leave it."
Yeah, right...
"I'll need to think about this." I hedged, "Do some research..."
"You always say that !" Liz grinned, pushed the letter and folder across the desk, "So I'll give you an hour. Then we've a Detox in the DarkRoom. Happens he brought in the offer. Go chat."
My hasty info-search gave me ample food for thought. I emptied my pockets, was scanned and patted down at the security gates. I sat in an alcove until my eyes had adjusted to the dim red lighting, which gave me time to think some more. Usually, Vampires were uncommunicative. Patients would not talk beyond essentials, injured Rogues either stayed silent or shrieked. This could be a first...
I found the private room, knocked on the door.
"Come in..." The invitation was weak, but polite.
People still think of Vampires as their movie caricatures. Some do play up to the rle, but the reality is often disappointing. The original Nosferatu, a wizened, pallid ancient with an odd craving, is a typical, healthy Elder. For youngsters, LOTR's Gollum comes close. This one was middle-aged and unwell. He looked like a little old man, flesh lost to age, wrinkled, parchment-thin skin draped across gaunt bones. He was connected to a Dialysis machine plus an Activated Carbon stack, was obviously unhappy.
"Hello." I offered, "I'm Chris. You asked to talk to me ?"
He sat up with some difficulty, "You are the RogueBane ? I-- I was expecting some-one taller..."
"I've been ill."
"Ah... That terrible business in Africa ?"
"Yes."
"You hunt Rogues, yet you suggest a 'Student Exchange' ?"
"The other committee members had never seen, met or communicated with a live Vampire. Or tried."
"They were so ignorant of their ignorance ?"
"They convinced me."
"Ah ?" A fanged grin, "You made a joke !"
I nodded.
"That explains much !" He chuckled, "Please, sit ! I regret I cannot offer much hospitality..."
"My stomach shrank, and I'm between meals..." I shrugged, perched on the plastic patio-chair.
"Do you oppose this proposal ?"
"Nu." I stated, "I doubt its success. I doubt I am the correct candidate. I doubt my courage."
"I doubt we could find better."
"I doubt that, too."
The moment stretched, until, "You were told of the guarantees we would offer ?"
"Yes."
"Do you doubt them ?"
"I doubt all will abide by such guarantees."
"Ah, you fear an attack by Rogues ?"
"Or a dissident faction."
"As do we..."
"Unless...?" I offered, "Perhaps there is a solution ?"
"We found no certain way..."
"What if we accept, but stall in committee ? Argue over details of my agenda, meetings etc. Meanwhile, the proposal goes ahead in secret. If it does not work, it never happened. If it works, then agree my agenda to match events, and I'll take a holiday."
"Ahh..."
"Now tell me that was your best option, but I had to suggest it."
"We did not consider such misdirection..." He chuckled.
"You don't have a cousin high in the Civil Service..."
"So, you would do this thing ? You would take our form ? You would live among us ? You would eat, sleep, dress and play as we do ?"
"To the extent of my metabolism and ethics." I stated, "So no 'Blood Sports' or overt sexuality. I prefer my steaks 'Medium-to-Well' or braised, my eggs 'Easy-Over' and my position 'Missionary'. But, I enjoy Sushi and know some Yoga."
"That is acceptable... What of Black Pudding ?"
"Correctly cooked, I enjoy a slice or two. And, yes, I know it is Blood Sausage."
That earned a grin, "You are deeper than the reports suggest."
"Aren't we all ?"
"Hmm... Are you subject to unreasonable fear of close confinement ?"
"Claustrophobia ? No."
"This is important."
"Okay... I've done SCUBA diving and squeeze-caving, even camped in a 'coffin tent' hung off a cliff. And I was held hostage in a packing crate for two weeks."
"You were kidnapped, but escaped ? The reports varied..."
"One of the Unquiet 'Stans: Faction thought I was valuable. Blue Helmets intervened. I escaped in the confusion."
"From a padlocked crate in a guarded cave ?"
"They over-nailed the crate and weakened it."
"And you killed your captors with bare hands ?"
"Untrue." Indeed: I'd used a rock, the first guard's AK, the second's grenades...
"You are an excellent shot, yet you had no prior military or hunting experience ?"
"Play Station and Paint Ball." I quipped, "Plus a Canadian Master Sargeant who thought us innocent Medics should know the rudiments. Happens I was a natural shot. After that, I'd familiarise myself with anything I could get my hands on."
He considered that, "You do not fear our Glamour ?"
"Not worth the risk." I shrugged, left him to wonder exactly what I meant, added, "What does a Blood Trade involve ?"
"In this context, a few drops of blood drawn by a stone blade, yet freely given."
"So I've read." I turned my hand, showed the tiny, flint arrow-head I'd found years ago, as sharp as the day it was knapped in pre-history, "Would this do ?"
"Yes !" He gasped, "So, you agree ?"
"Subject to my metabolism and ethics."
"Then scratch a finger-tip for me to take your blood, and thus for mine."
I nicked my little finger, offered the welling bead for his taste. He nodded, took the point, pierced his finger, let me lick it.
"Now we are Blood Kin." He smiled, "My Taken name is Montague, Monty to friends. Okay, Chris, let's get this show on the road..."
After the three of us returned to UK and checked clear of contagion, we were stuck on 'Light Duties'. At SOTM, that means you're co-opted by any committee that needs another member: keeping quorums is *hard* when folk get bleeped and run...
I was promptly appointed SOTM's representative to a regional panel discussing Vampire issues. It seemed a waste of time because they'd never seen, met or communicated with a live Vampire, never mind had to hunt one. Their entire information was some scanty briefing notes, yet they'd spent a year talking about Vampire crypto-culture, building bridges, building trust, earnestly recycling the usual platitudes on Minorities, getting absolutely no-where. None-the-less, they'd turned out several detailed reports, and seemed determined to continue the series. Naturally, they considered my Vampire hunting experience to be disadvantageous, if not actively counter-productive...
I sat through that interminable meeting, watching the clock count the minutes my next meal was late. I was ravenous. I was only there because a quirk of Amnesty law made Vampirism a 'Notifiable Disease', requiring SOTM input. I was only there because I actually knew a few things about Vampires, mostly how to kill Rogues and survive it. I was only there because I'd run out of better things to do. I was getting really, really hungry, and grumpy with it...
"... Now, before we conclude today's productive session, I must ask if our Member from SOTM has any thoughts on stimulating cross-cultural communication ?"
The words came out before I realised, "Student Exchange ?"
They laughed, applauded my quip and adjourned the meeting. My mistake: it went in the Minutes. Those were circulated, perhaps wider than expected...
I still do not know who whispered the unthinkable, 'Why not ?'
I was dissecting a stack of low-level outbreak reports when Liz called me in, "Hi, Boss, who's died, and where ?"
She slid the letter across to me, "Read this."
" ... Student Exchange ... Cultural Immersion ... Proposal ... Discussion ... Technical Feasability ... Confirmed ? Authorised ? Proceed ? Me ?? You cannot be serious !!"
"Wait, read this, too..."
I skimmed the FX brochure, read it slower, carefully read it again, "Sure you haven't a nice Ebola carrier for me to trace ? Or a contagious TB3 ?"
"No, this is your next assignment."
"Why ?"
"You are very thin--"
"I'm eating a dozen tiny meals a day, re-gained a couple of pounds. Doc's happy."
"You'll need to cut back." Liz shrugged, counted fingers, "You're quick witted, you're careful, you get along with the strangest people and, most important--"
"Expendable ?"
" 'Where Angels Fear To Tread.' " Liz nodded.
We don't mention the silent second half of the Hot Zoners' Toast, 'Absent Friends'.
"Okay, so I've done some daft things..."
"You have the knack of being in the right place at the right time, and finding the right thing to say or do--"
"I've been lucky--"
" 'Luck favours the Prepared.' " Liz mis-quoted, "They've asked for you specifically."
"Why ?"
"It is... complicated." Liz allowed, "Part is your record of kills--"
"Revenge ? I've a dozen to my name..."
"All Rogues." Liz stated, "Tell me: How many civilians have killed more than one Rogue ?"
"Excluding Road Kills ? D'uh, there's Quiet Mac, works out of Formby--"
"Ghillie's son, ex Army."
"Joe, from Wharton ?"
"Retired Safari guide, a White Hunter."
"Mike in the Peak District ?"
"Outward Bound Centre's Survivalist."
"Jones in mid-Wales ?"
"Psycho: should be in Broadmoor."
"East Coast, the Reverend Peters ?"
"Crazy like a fox." Liz rolled her eyes, "Thinks he's a Knight Templar..."
"Hmm... New Forest area, Phil something ?"
"Park Ranger, natural woodsman."
"L.C. in London ?"
"She's a Slayer."
"Ah." I'd wondered, "But I'm not--"
"A Slayer ? True, you don't have the reflexes."
"Or the legs !" I quipped, "At least we can agree on that--"
"And, lastly, there's you." Liz stated, "But you're different. You're not a Hunter. You're just a nice bloke with a knack--"
"I do the leg-work, flush Rogues and blow them away. Un-sporting, but effective."
"As I said, you have a knack... " Liz shuffled her papers, "Might be something more: local Vampire community calls you 'RogueBane'."
"What ?"
"It's a Vampire title, like an Old West Marshal. You're doing it already, but didn't know. They want to make it official, and help you do it better..."
"You are serious ? They want me --a HomoSap-- to do their internal law-enforcement ?"
"Yes."
"Shit..." I worked it through, "Guarantees ?"
"Three ways: Your swap, hostages and something they call Blood Trade." Liz caught my look, "Purely symbolic, they know we can't digest much blood. Makes you Kin."
"Shit..." I shook my head, "They are serious about this. Do I have a choice ?"
"Take it or leave it."
Yeah, right...
"I'll need to think about this." I hedged, "Do some research..."
"You always say that !" Liz grinned, pushed the letter and folder across the desk, "So I'll give you an hour. Then we've a Detox in the DarkRoom. Happens he brought in the offer. Go chat."
My hasty info-search gave me ample food for thought. I emptied my pockets, was scanned and patted down at the security gates. I sat in an alcove until my eyes had adjusted to the dim red lighting, which gave me time to think some more. Usually, Vampires were uncommunicative. Patients would not talk beyond essentials, injured Rogues either stayed silent or shrieked. This could be a first...
I found the private room, knocked on the door.
"Come in..." The invitation was weak, but polite.
People still think of Vampires as their movie caricatures. Some do play up to the rle, but the reality is often disappointing. The original Nosferatu, a wizened, pallid ancient with an odd craving, is a typical, healthy Elder. For youngsters, LOTR's Gollum comes close. This one was middle-aged and unwell. He looked like a little old man, flesh lost to age, wrinkled, parchment-thin skin draped across gaunt bones. He was connected to a Dialysis machine plus an Activated Carbon stack, was obviously unhappy.
"Hello." I offered, "I'm Chris. You asked to talk to me ?"
He sat up with some difficulty, "You are the RogueBane ? I-- I was expecting some-one taller..."
"I've been ill."
"Ah... That terrible business in Africa ?"
"Yes."
"You hunt Rogues, yet you suggest a 'Student Exchange' ?"
"The other committee members had never seen, met or communicated with a live Vampire. Or tried."
"They were so ignorant of their ignorance ?"
"They convinced me."
"Ah ?" A fanged grin, "You made a joke !"
I nodded.
"That explains much !" He chuckled, "Please, sit ! I regret I cannot offer much hospitality..."
"My stomach shrank, and I'm between meals..." I shrugged, perched on the plastic patio-chair.
"Do you oppose this proposal ?"
"Nu." I stated, "I doubt its success. I doubt I am the correct candidate. I doubt my courage."
"I doubt we could find better."
"I doubt that, too."
The moment stretched, until, "You were told of the guarantees we would offer ?"
"Yes."
"Do you doubt them ?"
"I doubt all will abide by such guarantees."
"Ah, you fear an attack by Rogues ?"
"Or a dissident faction."
"As do we..."
"Unless...?" I offered, "Perhaps there is a solution ?"
"We found no certain way..."
"What if we accept, but stall in committee ? Argue over details of my agenda, meetings etc. Meanwhile, the proposal goes ahead in secret. If it does not work, it never happened. If it works, then agree my agenda to match events, and I'll take a holiday."
"Ahh..."
"Now tell me that was your best option, but I had to suggest it."
"We did not consider such misdirection..." He chuckled.
"You don't have a cousin high in the Civil Service..."
"So, you would do this thing ? You would take our form ? You would live among us ? You would eat, sleep, dress and play as we do ?"
"To the extent of my metabolism and ethics." I stated, "So no 'Blood Sports' or overt sexuality. I prefer my steaks 'Medium-to-Well' or braised, my eggs 'Easy-Over' and my position 'Missionary'. But, I enjoy Sushi and know some Yoga."
"That is acceptable... What of Black Pudding ?"
"Correctly cooked, I enjoy a slice or two. And, yes, I know it is Blood Sausage."
That earned a grin, "You are deeper than the reports suggest."
"Aren't we all ?"
"Hmm... Are you subject to unreasonable fear of close confinement ?"
"Claustrophobia ? No."
"This is important."
"Okay... I've done SCUBA diving and squeeze-caving, even camped in a 'coffin tent' hung off a cliff. And I was held hostage in a packing crate for two weeks."
"You were kidnapped, but escaped ? The reports varied..."
"One of the Unquiet 'Stans: Faction thought I was valuable. Blue Helmets intervened. I escaped in the confusion."
"From a padlocked crate in a guarded cave ?"
"They over-nailed the crate and weakened it."
"And you killed your captors with bare hands ?"
"Untrue." Indeed: I'd used a rock, the first guard's AK, the second's grenades...
"You are an excellent shot, yet you had no prior military or hunting experience ?"
"Play Station and Paint Ball." I quipped, "Plus a Canadian Master Sargeant who thought us innocent Medics should know the rudiments. Happens I was a natural shot. After that, I'd familiarise myself with anything I could get my hands on."
He considered that, "You do not fear our Glamour ?"
"Not worth the risk." I shrugged, left him to wonder exactly what I meant, added, "What does a Blood Trade involve ?"
"In this context, a few drops of blood drawn by a stone blade, yet freely given."
"So I've read." I turned my hand, showed the tiny, flint arrow-head I'd found years ago, as sharp as the day it was knapped in pre-history, "Would this do ?"
"Yes !" He gasped, "So, you agree ?"
"Subject to my metabolism and ethics."
"Then scratch a finger-tip for me to take your blood, and thus for mine."
I nicked my little finger, offered the welling bead for his taste. He nodded, took the point, pierced his finger, let me lick it.
"Now we are Blood Kin." He smiled, "My Taken name is Montague, Monty to friends. Okay, Chris, let's get this show on the road..."
