*The Reeve made his way home after an interesting night of conversation with the Herald. It had started off with discussing the current security situations within the Domain, but it had taken an unfortunate turn after a poorly phrased question by Max. The attack on the Chapter House, the new faces what wanted to help with the defense of the city. Examining each others aura to make sure neither one was the Diablerist stalking the city...



"Yes, sir...it is important we swiftly establish trust, sir. While we may ordinarily take it for granted, in this moment, it does no harm to reinforce it. I shall submit to your investigation...only, what manner of investigation did you wish to carry out? I shall also aid you with the investigation of others in the Domain. None can be above the test...our fallen were no doubt slain at a moment when they felt they were secure."

*Max studies his conversation partner for a moment, a playful grin spreading across his lips.* Herald Villiers; don't tell me that, as a fellow Mekhet and Dragon, you've allowed your studies of our family's signature ability to wane? A simply examination of each others aura will tell if either of us is the Diablerist... *Max tries to look stern, but the slight chuckle in his voice gives away he's only teasing Martha.*

Martha seems to respond to the playfully stern tone in kind, doing her best, which is easy given her gymslip attire, to look like a chastised schoolgirl...meek and bashful. Twin tails bob. "Yes, sir..." she nods. This, she knew, was at least one way to handle talk of cannibalizing the very Soul of a respected friend...

Still in role as a meek and humbled school girl, she brushes out any creases and crumples from her gymslip, neatening the folds that conceal her stump...and brushing non existent dust from her blazer. She sits now, all wide eyed and accepting, as if ready for a school photograph...hands fold in her lap. Looking to Max. Clearly wondering if he'd cast Auspex upon her now. "Now, Reeve sir?" she asks, all timid.

*The smile slips from Max's lips as Martha plays up the role of the chastised schoolgirl, the meek voice, the tending to her clothing; it certainly wasn't the reaction he had expected. The Reeve quickly recovers, the slightly bewildered look quickly being replaced with the same stern expression. He tries to put long distant memories out of his head, instead focusing at the task at hand. He nods, focusing his attention on Martha; trying to look past her to the energy field that surrounded the Keeper.* Yes, Keeper... *He says softly.*

The pale colours typical of a vampiric aura are clear to his sight. The small Keeper is surrounded by energy of yellow...patterned with silver and small rays of pink and orange...there is no black.

As she sits there, subject to his scrutiny, she sits perfectly still, hands still in her lap, but also begins to focus her mind on her reciprocal study of his auric energies.

*Max nods to himself.* Perfectly fine. My turn, I guess... *Max says, letting the Herald know she had passed the test.* Whenever you are ready, Herald... *Max closes his eyes, trying to clear his mind so not to reveal too much of his own emotional state.*

Clearly delighted with girlish happiness she just about resists clapping her hands in delight at passing the Reeve's test, she smiled and...her demeanor shifts...a new seriousness becomes apparent. She knew there were ways to try to outsmart Auspex...she was giving this examination all she got! Her scrutiny was precise, lips pursed in effort to explore his Aura.

*Max's aura is as pale as Martha's, which is to be expected. It too is free of the black veins that denote Diablerie; the shifting energy field almost entirely a pale blue, with small hints of pink tinging the edges. The only other accents were small swirls of dark red that disappear as quickly as they form against the light blue background.*



*Another discussion followed, following Max's unfortunate question about Martha. Cursing his own obliviousness, Max had thought it best to leave the Keeper to her own thoughts for a while...*



*Max glances at his watch, followed by a soft sigh.* I should probably go track down the Prince tonight if at all possible. I'm sure he'll wish to know about all the recent developments. *To say Max looks less than enthusiastic about his next stop would be an understatement.*

And I'm sure you could use some time to digest all this news, Herald. Hopefully the next time we speak I'll have happier news for you. *Another nod from the Reeve, Max still holding Martha's hand gently.*

Martha, offered Max a smile, holding his hand gently, she seemed in no hurry to have him rush away. A happy smile as she nodded. Twin tails bobbed. "I have much to think about, sir! But...do...do you wish me to accompany you, Herr Reeve? I should wish only to be a help to you!" she offered, all meek, sincere and schoolgirlish in her demeanor still.

*Max is quiet for a very long time, far longer than was needed to turn over the Herald's offer over in his head. Whatever the Reeve was thinking on doesn't register on his face, Max remaining as unreadable as ever. Finally, he shakes his head.* No, I had better do this alone. I appreciate your offer, Herald Villiers, but I have no idea how the Prince will handle the news of these murders. Should he be displeased, I would rather his anger be directed solely at me.



*Max had lied to Martha, He didn't go looking for the Prince, he had to clear his mind before doing that. Once more safely back in his Haven on the collage campus, the Reeve slowly plays over the events of the night. He had managed to put his mistakes with Martha behind him, but he could not quiet his memories so easily. The Herald had stirred up more than she knew, and much more then she'd ever intended.

The Reeve hoped he hadn't revealed too much to his fellow Mekhet when she examined his aura. It wasn't that Max had any romantic intentions towards the Keeper, though she was attractive in her own way. And he did care for her well-being; perhaps out of proportion to her relation as a fellow Dragon and Mekhet.

No, it was the way she was dressed, the shy and demure attitude, the use of “Herr” to address him... It brought back a flood of memories Max would rather have remained behind the dam in his mind. Martha's English accent lacked the harsh gutturalness of German, nor did the concern and friendliness in her voice match the more sensual tones of the girl he had known so many years ago. Even her gymslip wasn't quite the same; but it was close enough to remind Max of the ones Ivonne had worn.

Making his way over to a small curio cabinet, Max opens the glass door and pulls out a battered jewelry box. The once dark blue velvet had faded to a baby blue, the corners threadbare and tattered. Max handles the box carefully, the aged hinges protesting as he opens the small container.

A gold locket shines in the light of Max's haven, the Reeve putting the jewelry box down on his computer desk before removing the locket. It was sizable; roughly as large as a silver dollar. A clean hole was punched through the center of the locket, and most of the decoration had been obliterated by a .45 caliber bullet that entered from the front. But Max could still make out the eagle's head looking defiantly to the side, wings spread wide.

He sets down in the chair at the desk, slowly turning the ruined locket over in his fingers. Max closes his eyes, he didn't need Auspex to bring back these memories...*



May 1st, 1945

Max and Wolfgang, another Dragon, had commandeered a battered BMW cargo truck; loading it with as many artifacts from the Deutsches Ahnenerbe as they could before the city fell into Soviet hands. Mere hours before the first Russian troops would reach the outskirts of the city, the two Kindred made their way out of the chaotic streets of Berlin; desperately trying to head South to safety from the advancing Allied forces.

They had managed to avoid Allied patrols until reaching Regensburg a few nights later, ambushed while trying to siphon gas from a bombed-out half-track on the side of the road. Max had managed to escape, but Wolfgang was not so lucky. A few more close calls along the way, and by the time Max had reached Mittenwald, he was shell-shocked, hungry to the point of Frenzy, and filled with so much lead he was probably toxic...

The battered truck crawled its way up the winding mountain path that led to the outskirts of Mittenwald. Down a cylinder and the cab riddled with bullet holes; the truck sounded more like a tractor than a proper Mercedes L3000. Thankfully it was a sound more at home among the small farms the clung to the slight plateau in the mountains, and no light shown out from darkened windows to investigate the city's newest arrival.

The cold mountain air poured in through the holes in the bodywork and the shattered windshield. Max's eye darting from side to side, desperately scanning every farmhouse and barn for some subtle sign of the Ordo. Wolfgang had told him there was a single Dragon in Mittenwald; their contact with the rest of the Covenant and the man who would help get them, and the artifacts, back to America.

Of course, Wolfgang was dead now, and Max close to it. He had no idea what he was looking for, the German Dragon never got around to telling Max an exact address before he was killed. The stress of the past few nights was finally getting to Max, his normally calm demeanor coming apart at the seams. He was half crazed with hunger and pain, not even sure his contact in Mittenwald was even still in the city. The Mercedes was on its last legs, and so was Max.

Max was keeping himself from jumping the first person he saw and draining them dry by sheer willpower. Thankfully the back-roads and tank paths that had been carved through the rural German countryside were devoid of human life; keeping Max and his cargo safely unseen. But it had also forced the Mekhet to subsist on wild animals and livestock. It was enough to keep him going, but did little good for the hunger boiling in his belly and the wounds the pockmarked his body.

In a nearby field, a cow let out a long, low bellow; and it sounded all the world to Max like the dinner bell his family's servants used to ring when he was still alive. The thin Mekhet takes his eyes off the muddy foot path he had been driving on, looking towards the bovine with ravenous eyes. It was fat and healthy, nothing like the skeletal creatures he had fed from on his way South.*

A few minutes, that's all it will take. Drink my fill; push the corpse down the mountain. There won't be enough meat left to make a bratwurst. I just need somewhere secluded to feed. There's got to be a barn around here somewhere... *Max thinks to himself. And sure enough, when Max turns his head back to the road, there is a barn. Straight ahead of him.

Distracted by the four legged meal, the thin Dragon had wandered off the dirt road and onto a small field. No time to react, no time to hit the breaks, Max only has time to groan as the front bumper bashes it's way through the wooden walls of the building. Splinters rain through the shattered windshield, Max throwing his arms up to try and shield himself from the shrapnel. A few seconds later the truck slams into an iron anvil, bringing the battered truck to a screeching halt.

Max is jolted forward, the hard metal steering wheel digging a nasty indention into the Shadow's forehead. Though injured, at least he could still more; the trunk wasn't so lucky. The pointed nose of the anvil dug deeply into the front grill, puncturing the radiator; hot water depressurizing and becoming a sheet of steam billowing from the front of the truck.

Max grunts as he lifts his head from the steering wheel, cursing loudly as he opens the battered truck door and moves around to the front of the truck to inspect the damage. The Mekhet lets out a howl of unconstrained fury, Max ineffectively kicking the front tire. To hell with this truck, to hell with the artifacts, and to hell with his dead Sire for ever getting Max involved with these Nazi bastards...

Max continues to take his anger out on the bodywork, failing to notice the sound of soft footfalls that crept their way towards the barn to investigate the sound of the crash. Nor did he notice the small, young mortal woman that had snuck around the other side of the truck, terrified by the vampire's snarls and the foreign sound of his English curses.

It's not until the young girl comes around the front of the truck that Max finally notices her. If he had been in his right mind, the Mekhet might have better appreciated the mortal beauty that had crept up on him in the middle of the night. She stood transfixed at the sight of the unexpected intruder in her barn, small hands shaking in surprise and fear, the flashlight in her hand trembling as well.

In her late teens, the young woman's blond hair contrasted with the dark purple dressing robe she had wrapped around her in protection from the cold German night. Light blue eyes were wide with fear as Max turned his attention to her. They grew wider still as Max grinned wickedly at the girl, fangs descending as a new plan formed in his mind.

Max would leave this dying trunk behind, and to hell with what was in it. He'd drain the tasty little morsel before him, find the first ship back to the states, and put this whole damned war behind him.

In an instant, Max is on the girl. She barely as time to scream before Max grabs her by the throat, squeezing hard enough to choke the girl silent. He can see the terror in her eyes as he picks her up off the ground and throws her backwards into the cold, dirt floor. She has time for one ragged breath before her attacker is once more on top of her.

Max's body blotted out the harsh light of the truck's single working headlight as he ran after the flailing girl, slamming down onto his knees on top of her. The harsh yellow light added a surreal quality to the scene as Max took control of the girl. His legs pinned hers to the half-frozen floor; his left arm pushing down hard on her right shoulder. The mortal girl began to cry uncontrollably as Max's left hand grabs her long, blond hair; gasping for air between sobs as Max jerks her head to the side to fully expose her thin neck.

As Max lowers his head to where the girl's neck meet her shoulder, he suddenly stops. There is enough light in the barn that he can make out a curious mark. The symbol of clan Ventrue, branded into the girls soft flesh and hidden until a moment ago by her waist-length hair. Even in his near Frenzy, the Mekhet stops, puzzled by the strange marking.

If Max had been more primal in his attack, if he weren't so easily distracted from feeding by this curious puzzle, perhaps he would have noticed a new shadow that appeared on the wall of the barn. Unlike the girl, this individual has come into the barn in complete silence, suddenly appearing in the headlight's beam as if it had materialized from thin air.

And perhaps he could have done something about the Luger P08 Parabellum before it put a bullet in the back of his head...