From Dusk Til' Dawn

[West]

It started with the ordinance that snuffed the open fires.

Then came the public works crews that sliced through the shanty town as they laid new cabled and erected signal towers.

Fortunately, the soup kitchens were on hand to offer shelter to the displaced, and took away busloads of the needy.

And when the fingers pulling the strings had blown out the fires, torn down the walls, and pulled away defenders and witnesses, it happened. The children of the night, with gleaming fangs and hateful hearts, descended upon what was left of the sprawl.

Without the illusion of strength, the warning perimeters, or holy flame, the Rev'ren and his followers fell like bloody sheafs of wheat before the Domain's scythe of killers. Cries of fear and anguish fell upon deaf ears, too used to cries of protest and outrage to listen any longer.

As the noose slowly tightened around the Rev'ren, he and his closest followers took flight in the gem of Squattaville.

Quickly realizing he must have the bodies with him, the chase begins.

Let's Roll

Feel free to narrate what you might have done or are doing. You can chase on vehicle or if you have Celerity you can spend 2V to have jumped onto the rig as it barreled through Squattaville.

We resume as the chase heads onto I-5 South.

Please post any questions in the OOC forum and jump in

I'd like to keep this out of combat turns and in full (fun) narration as long as possible. You can shoot at tires, etc etc just try to 'take turns' as we go. Aside from the driver there are eight armed passengers.

This is a Sticky so any/all can join in.

The current time is two hours until dawn.

[West]

As the van pulls onto the freeway, Conner can hear voices inside yelling. The sound of things falling and shifting is an endless stream of noise as the vehicle swerves from side to side.

A window on the side opens, and the Shadow Priscus can see the fat barrels of a shotgun begin fishing it's way out. Wild, fearful eyes in rear view mirrors focus on him, and he can see mouths opening and closing in terror-filled excitement.

There's only a moment to register that before another window opens and a screaming cat comes flying at him.

[Dean]

A man who looks to be of Middle-Eastern descent sits behind the wheel of an inconspicuous sedan, in pursuit of the reverend's ramshackle transport. Anton Flores sits on the passenger side, an old revolver clenched in his ragged hands. His old knife sits in an ancient-looking patchwork sheath strapped to his abdomen.

The Haunt mutters Spanish at his driver, all the while staring intensely at the van, waiting for eye contact with the driver so he could freeze him with the fear.

OOC

Anybody needs it, feel free to write themselves into Anton's ride.

[Nil]

Anasztaz sat in the back seat of the car where the Sanctified performed their ceremony. With arms crossed, trying to figure out with curious eyes what the ritual was about. He had no knowledge of Theban rituals at all, but he found the symbolism and pomp incredibly fascinating.

He had no weapons other than his fangs, but they were anxious against his lips. He couldn't remember the last time he was caught in a frenzied firefight, perhaps back in the Old Country, but he could barely wait to taste the blood pumped by a fearful heart.

The moment they managed to halt the strange wagon and the battle was joined on foot, he'd reminisce by action to those old days. Jumping, tangling himself on his foe like the predatory Beast he was, tearing their necks to shreds as he fed and used that blood to fuel his limbs further.

[Max Heinz]

*Max had stayed back, watching the action unfold from a safe distance where he could coordinate the attack and keep a watchful eye for any sudden developments. And a motorized outhouse was certainly an unexpected turn of events. He puts down the paper he had pretended to be reading, knocking over a half eaten container of steamed rice. He hoped the taxi's original driver was very fond of Chinese food, she would be smelling like teriyaki and MSG for weeks once she woke up and climbed out of the garbage hopper Max had dumped her in.

He slips the battered yellow cab into Drive, joining the pursuit of the kludged RV down the streets of Sacramento*

OOC

Anyone that wishes to catch a ride with Max may do so as well.

[GB82]

Thomas O'Connor

The assault began and the Colt barked like it had decades before when the targets had been wearing field gray instead of the modern clothing of the bums. Different century, similar result as Thomas took care and aimed each shot, dropping each target with a well placed .45 slug or two just like it was target practice. The Deputy channeled the raw anger he felt at the homeless army into a cold, emotionless fury that even Conner Greyson would approve of.

After seven shots and seven hits, he was about to reach for another magazine when the truck began to barrel through the encampment. Putting the weapon back into his jacket, he activates Vigor as he watches his Coterie mate jump onto the truck. Using celerity he increases his own speed to get onto the truck. He needed to help Conner out ... and besides the Indiana Jones theme was playing in his head.

Ajax

The large Gangrel hit like a metric tonne of bricks. Which others were quick and clean, Ajax made sure that his attacks were a little nastier and dirtier. That every fucking homeless fucker he got his big hands on felt the true mean of pain. Crushed windpipes, compound fractures, one set of crushed testicles. These assholes had hurt his best friend and every movement of his was meant as unholy retribution for what they had done.

As the bum he was working on died from the 215 pounds of the Gangrel jumping on to his chest and stomping his broken ribs with a pair of steel toed boots. Claws. No Claws yet. He was saving them for the ones who had Jillian.

Then that fucking truck came rumbling through the camp. Too far away from him to do anything. He looks around for a ride. Max what's his name, the Sheriff and Jillian's buddy.

Ajax runs to the taxi and jumps into the passenger seat. "Let's get'em."