Michael Redfill Glimpses

[Michael Redfill]

Apparently, smart and rich was the new sexy. After he has returned to teaching at the university as a visiting professor (no way in hell he could be on the staff after disappearing for half a year), he started to pay his students more attention. He remembered that Max had that thing going with being able to drink from beautiful smart girls without problems and wanted something similar.

Frankly, Mike was used to being ignored by the fair sex: he was intelligent and had manners, but he wasn’t the most impressive man on the planet when it came to looks or sheer force of personality. Most of the girls that were attracted to him were more crazy about his work than him. And after the Embrace things didn’t become better: people felt the predator on some level, but in his case it wasn’t a charming and seductive beast. It was just a Beast: hungry and loud. And it didn’t take a genius to figure out what kind of crowd would be subconsciously attracted to that.

But everything changed after he became rich and more known among academic circles. Everyone on campus who studied history or economics knew him and had some idea of his theories.

He was young, fit, smart and sociable. Who wouldn’t like him? And then there was the car. Somehow that phrase from that one incredibly, unbelievably bad Batman movie came to mind: "Chicks dig the car."

He had only one rule: he didn’t feed on the students in his own classes. That would be way too obvious. So right now he found himself at this girl’s apartment. Her name was Stacy, and she had some sort of obsession about getting every freaking detail about medieval London exactly right. Somehow she came across his doctorate, caught him after classes and they got to talking. It took Mike hours, but he was able to iron out all the little mistakes she had in her essay. Most other Kindred probably wouldn’t bother, but he enjoyed it. It turned him on as much as another might have relished a dinner or a concert.

And Stacy was very pretty, if a little pale. She knew it though, he could tell. And he was pretty sure she had a roommate who just happened to be out. At 2 A.M.

And then, when there was nothing else to correct in the essay, they found something deeply wrong with how their clothes fit. And the distance between them was so, so much larger than it needed to be.

[Michael Redfill]

There are many distinct advantages to being a corpse. For instance, you don't need to breathe. And your muscles never cramp up, no matter how long you remain in an uncomfortable position.

That's what Michael Redfill thinks, crouching behind some trash bin in a dark alleyway some short distance from the University. If one of his students saw him, they probably wouldn't recognise him: the Doctor's face is covered in dirt and some kind of soot, and he's wearing dark, old and stained leather.

It's a hunting technique Andrey taught him back in New York. Called it 'fishing'. The idea is fairly simple, although very, very boring if you don't do meditation or some such. You simply go to a dark place, where a drunk is likely to wander to take a piss, or a young pair - to make out - and you wait. In a big city eventually a suitable target will turn up.

Normally Michael doesn't resort to this way of hunting, but tonight he was hungry and the predator in him demanded violence. Plus, one of his especially dumb and rich students was celebrating something in a nearby joint. So the doctor decided he should try to do something both pleasant and useful.

And so he waits. An hour passes in total silence during which he allows himself to drift off into a trance for a few minutes.

And, surely enough, a group of smashed seniour students appears near the alley. Not particularly able to stand straight, they talk in loud voices. Not very coherently, but Mike can catch something about some girl who is, apparently, 'cheap'.

Two guys wander near to where he is to relieve themselves and the stench of alcohol and urine adds itself to the pleasant aromas of trash and summer night that were already mixed in the air. One of the boys has some serious trouble putting his junk back in. As he curses and fumbles with the zipper in the dark, the other one waves his hand and wanders back to the street in unsure steps.

And then they remain alone as the company advances past the entrance to the alley, and Michael finally straightens up. Were he still mortal, there would probably be a crack of the joints. But right now there is only a hiss in the air, as he hits the young man with Vitae-increased strength.

As the doctor looks at the form sprawled beneath him, a predatory grin appears on his face.

Time to have a drink.

[Michael Redfill]

Sometimes being undead is awesome. And comfy. And delicious. Those delicious-delicious drunken students. Juicy, with a hint of sugar and autumn leaves. It was hard to make them drink decent alcohol before you drank them, though.

It wasn't exactly their anniversary. That happenned in summer. But summer was off-limits: time-difference and stuff. You couldn't really ask someone to drag his ass over half the planet to see your ass. Because their ass was so much more important than your ass.

Maybe I should start a new science branch. Assology. Hell, I'm smashed.

He could bet he looked weird right now. Sitting in front of his notebook, waiting, covered with a blanket. The one you usually find on your grandfather in front of a fireplace. This grandfather has long since died, but the blanket still held some of the warmth of the Blush of Life that he had put on for the hunt and he liked that. It made you feel not-so-dead, and this was good for such a day.

Eventually the notebook started ringing. He picked it up. They had spent a fair bit of time setting up the encryption plugins back when he came to California to make sure they weren't oveheard.

"How're you doing, kid?" - Andrey's voice sounded clear, which meant that he got to a town for this conversation. The digs, surveys and research often took him into the wilderness and the fact that he bothered to get a good connection meant something.

"Good. Drunk." - he suppressed a giggle. The notebook snorted in response:

"America. The land of coeds and booze that doesn't kill you. How's Sacramento treating you? Better than New York, I hope."

"Not to complain, but New York sucked. Who the hell makes their student trip his balls off by making them see zombies and pools of blood?"

Silence on the other end before a response:

"Michael, you have got to start carrying a portable lab or something. Did you drink at a party? You sure there was nothing else in there, but alcohol? No beautiful wild plants rolled into joints? No small white rings of power you put under your tongue to add some color to the dull world?"

"Sure. The kid was just really, really smashed. I remember getting drunk back when I was in University, but not this hammered."

Another pause:

"Well, things are good here. We are nearly finished with the excavations. Have to proceed carefully though."

"Wouldn't want to chop off the head with a shovel by accident?"

"Exactly. Who knows what the man did after he discovered that the spot of ground he chose for a daily nap had been covered by an avalanche? And in what condition he is."

"How is the company? Competent?" - the alcohol was slowly leaving his system by now

"Fuck the company. Paranoid. Looking at me as if I'm about to bite them in half. I might actually tear off some arms. For educational purposes."

Michael grinned: the Gangrel of Siberia weren't famous for their good manners and academic prowess. He could bet that when Andrey came to the local Ordo with the location of a long-buried ancient vampire, they agreed to help him more out of shock than curiousity.

Still, if that person had some additional insight into the Coils, it would all be worth it.

"You know what? When we are finished here, I might come to America to renew the relationships with some of my contacts. I'll give you a ring, maybe we'll meet up."

The doctor nodded before realizing that his Sire couldn't see him.

"Sure. Sacramento is really friendly. And if you don't want to get to know the Domain, you can just walk in, have a chat and get out. Oh, and by the way, I've picked up a new trick. And more are coming my way."

"Good for you. Survival comes before power."

"Power comes before perfection. See you."

"Yeah, now that we have some overlapping night ours, we might be able to chat once in a while. Don't count on it though, kid. Where we dig, there's only satellite perception. And the locals might think I'm discussing the terms of selling them to Satan, Mages and gods-only-know what else. Well, nice talking to you. Keep me in the loop. And don't get caught by over-zealous blood-farmers again, ok?"

Michael sat in front of a switched-off computer for some time, staring into space. He has been dead for five years. It was only the beginning.

[Michael Redfill]

A lone man walks briskly through the darker alleys of Sacramento, seemingly taking his chances with the unsafe neighborhood in order to make a shortcut. Hands in his pockets, he wears a beige coat and a white scarf and, judging by the amorphous shape and size of the body under the coat, is quite overweight. It doesn't look like he's aware of his surroundings, as the man's eyes wander while he mumbles something enthusiastically under his nose.

He walks for quite a bit until he cuts through another dark alley and is stopped in the middle of it by two men stepping out of the shadows:

"The bag. Now." - the burlier of the two points at a leather bag that is slung over Michael's shoulder. It looks like it might have a laptop inside.

The doctor looks the two over. The bigger one's knuckles are battered and badly healed, and as the smaller-framed one moves, steel flashes in his hand. To them, it seems like Michael is hesitating. But even as the Savage stands still the situation is tipping more and more in his favor: Auspex comes first, enhancing his vision and allowing him to see as if it's daylight. And then comes Vigor, strengthening his muscles and making it even harder to contain the Hunger he's been feeling especially acutely this evening, as the university's students have papers and exams and he didn't want to screw up anyone's marks by draining their blood.

Seeing that their prey isn't replying, the two start approaching him, but relax when Michael takes the bag off his shoulder with his left hand and throws it to the thinner man.

"I don't want any trouble."

The man catches it, but the bag turns out to be unexpectedly heavy: 15 pounds at least, so it knocks him slightly off-balance. And what follows after knocks him out completely. As the bag starts its way towards the would-be brigand, Mike pulls his right hand out and metal can be seen dimly glistening around his knuckles. Before the assilants can figure out what's going on, the doctor closes the distance and punches the thin man in the shoulder. It looks like an ordinary enough punch, but when it connects the man's arm goes almost completely numb and he can barely continue gripping the blade. He spends the next few seconds dropping the bag on the ground with a loud 'thud' to free his left hand.

Michael doesn't waste any time and he has no reason to play nice: he simply kicks the defenseless criminal in the nuts, watches him drop to the ground and turns his attention to the second man only to find that he is almost out of the alley and is running at to speed.

After taking a fair bit from the idiot who tried to waylay him, the doctor picks up the bag, rearranges the papers and stones inside and goes on his way feeling fed and comfortable in his heavy leather jacket concealed by the coat.

Both the hunt and the patrol continue.

[Michael Redfill]

This paper is freely available to any Dragon at the Chapterhouse

On the long-term effects of various research practices

by Michael Redfill, Supplicant of Terror
in collaboration with Andrey Neznamov, Sanguine Adept of the Terror

Security note: communications regarding this paper were carried out in a verbal cypher over an encrypted channel

Introduction

This paper is an introduction to the study of long-term effects of employing different kinds of research practices as a method of continuing one’s Great Work. Foremost, the authors must note that there is scant hard evidence available regarding this particular topic: what is required is getting several hundred Kindred, separating them into a control group and several groups employing different methods and then studying their lives fully for several hundred years. For obvious reasons, such a direct scientific approach is impossible, so we are forced to resort to anecdotal evidence, personal experience and, above all, logic.
About the authors:

Michael Redfill is a relatively new member of our Order, having so far studied one Coil and helped one apprentice achieve Chrysalis. His conclusions are mostly drawn from studying the works of Dragons
Andrey Neznamov became a Supplicant at the beginning of the 20th century and he had been observing the history of various Covenants inside different Domains long before that, being a travelling researcher. His input to this paper is primarily editorial but also includes passages based on personal observations and experience.

Necessity

This work has been prompted primarily by John Beilige’s “Ways of the Dragon for the 21st century”, written by a member of the New York Chapterhouse in 2008. Since then copies have surfaced all over North America and some have also made it into Europe. In his paper Initiate Beilige relies heavily upon the notion that as the pace at which society develops quickens, the Dragons should lean towards more extreme methods of research. The thesis is based on the fact that there are many ways available to a Kindred to kill Kine without alerting the authorities and the sheer amount of people on this planet and the Kindred / Kine ratio makes such methods perfectly justifiable. The book goes on, giving advice on the usage of Disciplines and manipulation in order to enact extreme destructive change in society.

There are many similar works being completed around the world, some of them akin to Mr. Beilige’s and some – to ours, like for example, Dietrich Schneider’s ‘Man and the Beast”, available in Zurich where one of the authors spent some time last year.

While we agree with Initiate Beilige on the fact that in the modern era it is relatively easy to destroy Kine, providing the Chapterhouse coordinates well and possesses necessary resources, we caution against Following the Dragon’s Tail becoming the main method of research. Killing Kine in geometric progression is even worse.

Our work is based on several suppositions: first of all, the main enemy of a Dragon is age. In order to keep Changing we must maintain the same mental health and equilibrium as time passes. Unfortunately in my experience (Andrey Neznamov) about fifty years into the Great Work the second crisis hits the Dragon (the first one being the first Chrysalis). By that point the researcher has learned several Coils and Change is getting more difficult. The Dragon also becomes painfully aware of the Dangers to their Requiem and of exactly how many aspects of the Kindred condition must be overcome in order to complete the Great Work. Basically, this crisis entails realizing just how much work the Great Work entails. It is around that time that Kindred try to cut corners, resorting to enacting more direct and extreme change in the world around them in order to lessen the amount of time going into the experiments and simplify the methodology. In turn, this leads to the Dragon becoming more jaded (which isn’t a problem) and more reckless with Kine lives (which is). Because this particular path also doesn’t give immediate results but only quickens the pace of research, the temptation of enacting even more extreme change always exists and is typically followed. Eventually, it leads to the other Covenants disposing of the Chapterhouse, or, at the very least, Domain officers putting the ambitious Dragon into prolonged Torpor, negating any advantages that might have been procured from expediting the Great Work.

This paper is organized as follows: in the first chapter we will examine the various examples of Chapterhouse approaches to the Great Work that have been recorded or are known to us and try to establish a pattern between the method and the amount of progress over a prolonged period of time. In the second part we will develop a series of precepts that can form a basis for creating one’s own research routine that can be followed for any amount of time without eroding the individual. Please note that the authors’ focus is on sustainability, not on speed, so studying other papers on the topic is highly recommended.

[What follows is a 20-page science paper, complete with graphs, conclusions and bibliography]

[Michael Redfill]

A new day has dawned. Or, rather, a new night has dusked? Awareness returns in several seconds and at a certain park on the edge of Sacramento, deep beneath the bushes, one Gangrel scholar emerges from the ground. It's a spectacular sight: ground buckles and earth seems to spill out between the blades of grass, turning to flesh on its way. It's disturbing, to say the least, which is why Mike picked this particular clump of undergrowth.

The doctor raises to his feet and spends some time brushing the dirt off his jeans and then checks the messages. There is a missed call and a message from Roderick Pearson. He frowns, remembering whether he promised to hold the team's hand all through that VIP list mess. He didn't. And what's with all the obviousness? Didn't he get the memo? He's sure there was a memo. Something about the Masquerade?

It's a calculated risk. Dealing with the criminal world is never safe, the Kindred know it and there are three of them. After weighing pros and cons, he decides against taking any action. The message is deleted, Gods - thanked that Roderick didn't mention his name. He doesn't give a response: it's all about plausible deniability if this thing flies south.

Mike ponders the fact that Anabella or Luke didn't call him but it was this seasoned soldier instead. Maybe, Dragons were made of stronger stuff or Roderick could simply evaluate the threat better? Anyway, not like anyone will be able to reach him tonight - Mike has warned Martha that he'd be ranging and out of service area. The polite and rather well-dressed Gangrel scholar drops on all fours and focuses on the power of his Blood. His body shrinks, clothes replaced by dark fur, hands - by paws and eyes glint fiercely with yellow. The Savage sniffs the air and dashes into the trees, his mind giving way to the rush of air as he runs. As a wolf and as the wind.

[Michael Redfill]

It is always about the little things. When Michael Redfill was still mortal, he very much enjoyed dreaming. A reasonably well-adjusted man with a decent amount of self-control, he normally saw pleasant images or a caleidoscope of experiences when he slept. The theory that our sub-conscious uses the rapid-eye-movement phase to work through all manner of input we received the previous day seemed plausible to the scholar so he tried to get a good 8 hours, even when extremely busy.

Vampires don't dream. This was something that puzzled him greatly in the beginning: two questions gnawing at his mind. First of all, when the sun is up, the Vampire is for all intents and purposes dead until something rouses them. And second: if their condition doesn't naturally allocate time for properly internalizing experiences, then how can they truly learn?

Eventually, a method was born as the scholar slowly conditioned himself to artificially create a state of extreme relaxation using yoga and sleep. A state where the conscious and the subconscious came closer and could communicate with each other.

The second part of going on with the Great Work was simple: getting enough data connected with Change to induce a second Chrysalis. Consciously or not, David Regan helped a lot with this one: his hypothesis on the Vitae being a repository of genetic memories was truly inspirational, even if Michael believed the other Dragon has been inherently wrong in his assumptions. The Vitae to a Vampire wasn't just that: it was what the central nervous system was to Mortals: it was the medium through which the soul could enact change upon the world. To him, the irrefutable truth of his hypothesis was the final stage of Protean, which allowed the consciousness to reside in the Vitae transformed into fog. And then there was the fact that their bodies were basically transformed blood as evidenced by regeneration.

It was on these things that Michael meditated for the last few months. On the fact that his mind now inhabited a bucket of red liquid taken form and imbued with magical properties. The fun part came after that: if the will could manifest directly in the blood, if the Kindred could command it to move around their bodies or seal up wounds then why not control it more completely?

Attaining the first Coil of Blood became something familiar to the Gangrel: an exercise in increasing control. This wasn't about combating some mystical property of their condition, this was more like learning to move your pinky finger independently. A trivial thing, even if not that easy.

As always with the Coils, Michael couldn't be quite sure what finally made the Change occur: his logical reasoning, the routine of meditation or the amount of experience he has accumulated since coming to Sacramento.

Regardless, he was able to make a step that would help garner respect within the Order. The Coils, as important as they were, were only a means to an end.

[Michael Redfill]

Dark Passenger

It has been a very long time since Michael was left in New York to fend for himself. A hapless scholar knowing only the basics of self-defence and having pretty much no idea what kind of a world he ended up in. A lot has changed since that time: hunting for artefacts, being captured by hunters, blood-dating beautiful women, getting a solid financial base, mastering Protean.

It is ironic how since becoming undead he has felt more alive than in his mortal days. Sure, the soul was callous and harder to move and feelings - blander but the depth of academic possibilities, the opportunity to learn from the people who have spent centuries walking this Earth... And in his perfect memory, those images will be preserved forever.

Sighing, Michael Redfill turns his back on Sacramento and walks along a highway to his Porsche Panamera - the only thing he is taking with him. The Chapterhouse will know what to do with the Scanrobot and the Haven has been thoroughly cleaned out.

There's a man at the steering wheel: tall, well-dressed and with a fairly ridiculous beard.

"Let's go. We can practice Russian some more along the way".

Andrey Neznamov smiles and he and his Childe drive away, leaving behind Sacramento, California and North America. Everything in his life Michael has done seriously. Including running away to let things cool off.

Meanwhile in Sacramento the Reeve gets an e-mail from Michael's address:

Good evening.

Sorry for not notifying you earlier but I'm taking an extended vacation from this hemisphere. I've talked about the Fight Club to get some help with that situation we've all been working on so I figure it's better to let things settle down. You can get the details from David R.

I truly believe that it was in the best interests of everybody and the risks are minimal but rules are rules. I would rather see the world than pretty stars.

Best regards and best of luck, MR