THE MASQUERADE PT 3: LIFE IN THE CITY

The Crusade of Silence

Sylvie sifted through the files with the speed and precision born of desperation. At this point he had been searching for nearly two hours and showed no sign of fatigue or boredom. A part of his unusual vitality came from the kindred blood in his veins, but a sizeable chunk also came from the urgency of his mission, and fear of the reprisal he would face if he failed. The New York Criminal Justice Department's Files and Records room was not the easiest place to get into without an official reason, and even with the aid of Brett, a Brujah who ran criminal operations all over the Eastern Seaboard at the behest of the Camarilla, and a single corruptible janitor, he had only been able to get this slim window of opportunity, and at such an ungodly hour.

"Still haven't found it, Sylvie?" Brett asked. He was standing just outside the door.

"Not yet" he replied. "Just give me a couple more minutes."

The janitor, who was also present, was a growing snowball of nerves. He spent the entire fiasco pacing aimlessly around the door. Occasionally, he would get to the staircase and look around, but he stopped completely once he heard Sylvie. "A couple more... what the fuck?!" he exclaimed. "We don't got a couple more seconds, kid. If we get caught..."

"Found it" Sylvie announced, immediately silencing the janitor. Sylvie took a look at the case file. A man who lived in Harlem had seen his entire family killed during the Sabbat incursion, and as no one could ID the actual culprit, not to mention the man was known for being an angry drunk, he was convicted for the crime of multiple homicide. The contents of the file Sylvie had found contained evidence to the contrary; evidence that could very well lead to the man being acquitted. That, in turn, would lead to a thorough investigation of the incident, which was a serious threat to the Masquerade. Therefore, it was Sylvie's assignment to get rid of it.

Carefully, he placed a replacement file filled with clearly phony evidence in the exact spot where the previous file was and put the real one in a duffel bag beside him, then hurriedly made for the exit.

"So it's done then?" the janitor asked.

"Of course" Sylvie replied. "And thanks for your cooperation."

"So when do I get paid, and how much?" he asked, ignoring his thanks.

"We'll talk price when we get outta here" said Brett before Sylvie could say anything.

As the two of them watched the janitor drive away in his old car, Sylvie tried his best to rationalize what he had just done as a good thing. The Masquerade demanded sacrifice, his sister's life and future demanded sacrifice, even if said sacrifice was sending an innocent man to jail.

"Look at that old fart" said Brett, derisively as the janitor left the premises. This snapped Sylvester out of his reverie, and gave him the opportunity to ask an important question. "What about the database?"

"That's being taken care of. By the Sewer Rats, I mean" Brett replied, using the nickname for the Nosferatu. "And as for that old janitor, I've got some boys waiting for him at his place. If it comes to it, we might have to kill his whole family."

Sylvie grimaced and clenched his fists, his conscience bearing down on him like an avalanche. Brett placed a hand on his shoulder. "Hey" he said to Sylvie "you did good today. Thanks to you, the city's a bit safer for us, not to mention for your sick sister." Sylvie almost wanted to retort, to tell him to never speak of his sister again, but he successfully held himself back. "Remember, Sylvie, this is for the Camarilla, and it's all worth it" he said finally, then left, leaving the ghoul alone. Yeah, totally worth it Sylvie said to himself. Right?

The Knight Templar dressed in black stared blankly at the starless night sky, reassuring himself of the holiness of his task, that he was eradicating a great evil from this world, that he was motivated by more than simple vengeance. His horse snorted, making known its discomfort in carrying such an unholy creature on his back. Before him, two of his five comrades, dressed similarly and carrying their sword in on hand, chatted softly amongst themselves. He chuckled slightly, at how carefree they seemed, and he didn't blame them. After all, the clear, treeless road and the cool air made riding more enjoyable, not to mention they had lost no loved ones to the monster they were about to face. Despite the darkness, neither of them needed any light to see each other, such was their nature as Cainites, so they needed no torches, which gave them the advantage of surprise- unless their quarry had some other means of sensing their approach. As the castle loomed into view, all chattering stopped, and the Knight Templar tensed, anticipation and anger rising within him. Vengeance would be his tonight.