Story Two: Orphan Exile

Until I was 10 years old, I was just like any other kid in the New Orleans ghetto. My parents lived in the desire projects, but we made do. We had fun and we all loved each other. I don't think I really took life seriously, but what kid did? I also took that life and family for granted. Then one day, they both died in a car crash. From what I heard later, they just missed a curve on the way home and ran into a tree; cops said dad was probably drunk. The police came and told me and asked if I had any relatives; I didn't that I knew of—my parents didn't really have any close friends either—I didn't know what to do. I asked them if I could just pack up some things before they took me away; of course they agreed. It was all a lie. When they left me to look around, I took what I needed and ran away. The police weren't gonna take me to an orphanage. I just needed to be alone.

I couldn't go back to my home; the apartment was soon rented out to a new family. All my parents' possessions had been auctioned and the proceeds went to pay for their funeral and so forth (gotta give that much respect to the five-oh). The streets became my home then. It wasn't hard; between scavenging for food and picking pockets, I made out okay; shoplifting wasn't exactly hard, either. I got chased plenty of times by security guards and policemen, but they could never catch me: skill, luck, call it what you will. On February 2nd, 1982 -- my birthday is the 11th (1972) -- something happened which I'll never forget. I was sitting by the Mississippi, my legs hanging over the embankment across from Jackson Square, thinking about my parents, when my head snapped. Images flooded my mind, everything and nothing invaded my soul; I talked to demons and angels, I saw the twisting and reshaping of reality and knew that I could do that someday. Then just like that, it was over; my spirit, my mind, my body, my emotions, had just experienced a total rebirth, and everything was different. I looked down at my watch, and I noticed it was on the timer, even though I never remembered setting it. The LCD read: "00:00:01"—one second—my total life-changing experience of eternity had lasted one second. I couldn't believe it.

More than that, I couldn't believe what had just happened to me—yet I had to. Of all the things I saw in my head, (what I would later recognize as an Awakening) I could only remember one thing beyond an amorphous dream-like cognizance: lines of probability. Shifting my vision, I could see those lines; I could see where things were "disasters waiting to happen," I could see people's lies. Despite the fact that I only had a little bit of power, I knew that there had to be more to come.

I basically kept doing what I was doing, stealing and surviving, until I had more control over my power. Eventually I could make things happen, by manipulating those lines of probability that I would later call 'Entropy.' By this time, I was 14. It's not that old, but I started to find stealing no longer that difficult. I also recognized something else. There was a spirit, a soul inside of me that I could talk to—he told me that he was my Avatar—or my magickal soul. He said he was one of the rare Primordial Essences and that I was lucky; he appeared to me as the Norse God of mischief, Loki (I must add, this was the pre-God of evil Loki—or so he said.) I thought it was cool, it basically summed me up then. My Avatar also told me that I had the gift of arcane and that this is why I had so 'luckily' escaped capture time after time. He said that this gift made people unable to find or even remember me. I figured that was pretty cool.

Around this time I started gambling. I started out in little places, with kids my age and it went well, but they only had so much cash. I had to move up. Everywhere I went, I won. I tried to lose now and then, though, to make it look good. As I moved to low rent gambling houses, I started to make some real money.

By sixteen, I had made my way uptown and was really good at this Entropy skill. I had my own little second floor condo in the Quarter, new clothes, new furniture: all paid for in cash. I even ran gambling circles on local sporting events, but that's because I found I could affect games if I was there, so I made sure things went my way. I was also gambling in the real-deal mafia circuits. I was real careful there. I also started carrying a gun. I took some fighting lessons and some shooting lessons. If they were sore losers, I wanted to be prepared. As it was, they just eventually didn't let me come back.

When I was seventeen, something happened that changed my life again. I was walking down a dark alley at night. Faster than I could have imagined possible, someone lunged at me and threw me down. I felt a sudden pain at my wrist and then all of a sudden, twinges of pleasure; I didn't know what was going on. Then I saw a female face in front of me, I vaguely saw that she was intensely beautiful. She paused a moment to look into my confused face; at first she had a horribly seductive, pleasure-ridden face, but then I noticed the blood on her teeth. For the briefest of seconds she had a look of confusion. Then she grasped my chin, and forced me to look into her eyes. "Forget what you have just seen and felt, boy. This event never happened," she said. Ironically, I remember the words crystal clear. Whatever power she was trying to use, she totally botched. In fact, I knew exactly what had happened: she had sucked blood out of my wrist. Was she a vampire? Why not? In fact, the more I thought about it, the more I thought I had seen pointy teeth in her beautiful mouth. Of course, Bram Stoker was my source for vampire lore at that point. But I figured that if I was some kind of supernatural creature, a wizard or something, this woman could certainly be a vampire. Christ, how much happened that the rest of the world didn't know about?

I spent the better part of the next month trying to find that other world. I figured maybe my magick would show me the truth. Maybe if there were other creatures out there, my magick would show me. One day it did. I was at one of the last mafia places I was allowed to gamble and suddenly everything was different; everything I saw was its soul-version, it was the reality of the unreality that I usually saw. But one of the men in the room didn't have a soul. Most of them had the same look, they were true humans, but another man there looked more like a wolf: a werewolf? God what was happening to me? Needless to say, I finished that hand and walked. I needed to think.

What did no soul mean? Oh shit. Vampires were supposed to be undead creatures—undead—dead creatures didn't have souls, right? Christ. I slumped down on a park bench and tried to figure it out. I decided that I needed to go into the Quarter and get a drink (I had a fake ID and drinking age in the Quarter then was only 18).

So I went down Bourbon Street and stepped into Razoo's. I ordered a drink (they knew me there and no longer carded me.) I just sat at the bar, drinking for about an hour. Then, on whim, I decided to do another check with this spirit sight. I almost freaked. In the corner, there were three dudes with no souls, and four guys with sparkles around them, floating in chaotic patterns around them. Some ancient god whispered in my ear and told me to look down. Around my self was the same sparkly soul that was on the others—they were wizards just like me.

As soon as I switched back into the real world, I saw all seven looking right at me. I dropped my drink and bolted towards the door. I didn't stop to look behind me once, turning down a dark alley as soon as I could. No sooner than had I done that, it seemed as if time began to slow down; every step I took felt like molasses and before I knew it, those same seven were running in circles around me, mixed looks of curiosity and amusement on their faces. I switched to my spirit sense and picked out who was who. I heard voices moving too fast to understand, spoken by the wizards, and then the three vampires floored me and pinned me to the ground. Time suddenly snapped right ways and one of the wizards was sitting on top of me; the other three bent over behind him, watching me, hands on their knees. One vamp was holding my legs, the other two each held an arm. Their grips were like steel; I couldn't move at all.

The one on top of me looked more like a stoner than a wizard. Basically, I was thinking, What the fuck?

A glazed look on his face, he said, "Sorry for ruffing you up dude, but you ran. We can't have that."

"Who are you?" I asked.

"We're the same as you, man! We're mages."

"Dey's not. Dey're vampires," I said, rolling my eyes from the one on my left to the one on my right.

"Very observant, but they prefer the name Kindred," the mage on top of me said.

"Kindred?" I repeated.

"Yeah. And we're members of the Cult of Ecstasy. The premier mages in the Big Easy."

The other wiz—mages—behind him nodded. "Yeah, dude," one of them said.

"I take it you're an orphan?" the lead mage asked.

"How'd you know?"

"Never seen you before," he said.

"Dat don' mean -- " I started.

"No," one of the Kindred said. "He means an orphan mage, not a man without parents."

At that point, I guessed correctly that he was asking who I was affiliated with in this secret world. I guess then that description of me was as good as any. "Yeah," I replied. "I don' know no others like me. It was jus' days ago dat I discover how to fin' da hidden world. I—you!" my eyes widened at the Kindred at my left arm; it was the one who had attacked me.

The others all looked at her.

"He couldn't remember -- " she began.

"I do! It was you! You was da vampire dat attacked me. It was your attack dat made me look for da hidden world. I found it. It took me nearly a month, but I foun' it."

The vampires released their grips and the other two looked menacingly at her. "You threaten the Masquerade with your incompetence," one of them said

"I told him to forget, he should have," she said.

"You shouldn't rely upon -- "

"Forget it dude," the mage on me said, as he stood up. "He's a mage, so the Masquerade's still intact. Besides, that's probably why he remembered. We're made of sterner stuff than the Sleepers."

"Christ," I swore.

They all looked back at me.

"Come on," the one mage said, helping me up. "You've got a lot to learn."

And learn I did. I spent a lot of time with the Ecstatics after that night (and occasionally the Toreador vampires, who they sometimes shared the same social circles with). They taught me Time magick and I'm grateful for that, but eventually I got sick of the sex, drugs, and rock 'n' roll cliché; I wanted more. That landed me with the Hollow Ones, a pseudo-Tradition of depressed kids. I learned the beginnings of Correspondence from them, as well as a different perspective on magick, and a different view of the world. But they were too down on the world, so I jetted.

For awhile, I hooked up with Whilce Parker, the only Virtual Adept in New Orleans. He's a cool guy, but we didn't really get along. He tried to pawn me off on the Son of Ether, the Euthanatos, and Hermemtic Mages, but none of them wanted me, and I found I didn't really like them either. I later learned that I was being used as a joke; Whilce knew they wouldn't like me and was using me to annoy them.

Next he left me with an Akashic Brother. He and I started to get along, he was a cool 'Nam vet. But somewhere, he decided that I wasn't worthy enough to learn Do—said I didn't have the proper mindframe: not enough discipline. That was bullshit. So I went off on my own for a while. By then, I was 20.

Ignoring the mages' warnings, I went to gamble onboard the riverboat casino they had there, the Queen of New Orleans; it was owned by Kindred. I went and won a fortune, time after time. About the fifth time, I got too cocky and won too much. Security hauled me off to a back office. They took me to the owner, Modred Kahn. I scanned him and the rest: none had souls. I knew I was in big, big trouble.

"I know who you are boy. I don't like cheaters."

"Didn't cheat. Jus' played by dif'rent set a rules."

"So you say. I say you cheated," he said

"Sorry," I said.

"Sorry don't cut it, boy. You must know who we are, that means you know what we do to cheaters."

"I'm not who you think, Kahn," I said. "I don' hang wit da other mages. I'm a loner."

"Are you?" he said.

"I can help you."

"Oh really?" His eyebrows really went up on that one, almost cracking a smile.

"What I've been doin' is givin' you a demonstration." A quick lie. I always was a bit of a con man.

He just glared at me.

"I can change probability to help me win, but I can also change da lines to let your establishment win."

"We're doing just fine on our own."

"Y'all could do better," I said.

Kahn simply laughed and the old guy didn't stop right away.

"Ha. Kid, I've been alive for centuries. Hell, I was here before Christ. Let me tell you, I don't think anyone's ever had the balls to do what you just did. At least not in a long while."

I didn't say anything.

"You can help if you want, but I don't care. I'll let you live—that's enough—for now. You amuse me."

I shrugged.

That night was over, but I found myself back there. In fact, I spent most of my next four years hanging out with those Gangrels. I learned a lot about the Kindred, I even met their enigmatic prince; I still don't know why, cause I didn't even know it was him until someone told me later. My Gangrel friends said he was intrigued by me, whatever that meant.

I met the Nosferatu after a brawl I saw between the werealligators and the wererats. The alligators were beating up on the rats just cause they were filthy creatures, whom the alligators said had given up the fight against the Wrym or whatever. I decided to help the rats. The rats have since liked me, and the gators have since hated me. Anyway, the Nosferatu thought it was a kind thing for me to do for their friends. I helped them in a later fight against the Mokolé (that's what the Nossies called the werealligators) too, that made the bond concrete. By the way, the Verbena are friends with the werealligators, that's why I never bothered to go out and meet those guys.

I also spent some time with the Torreador. Ironically enough, that led to being around the Cultists again—not that I minded. I admired their taste and their ideas, but I think they were a little too upper class for my tastes, and I was a little crass for theirs. I never really hung with the Tremere or the Brujah, the former were mostly evil, the latter a bunch of gangster wannabes. The Ventrue were too aristocratic and we mutually decided to stay apart.

The Gangrels of New Orleans were mostly hero-types and did a lot of adventuring, that's why I ran with them so much. They considered me one of them, a part of their pack. We fought the really nasty Kindred, called Sabbat, and occasionally that Wrym thing that I mentioned earlier.

Then they asked me to join.

I said no. I had a lot to learn as a mortal and I certainly wasn't ready to become a vampire—especially when I knew if I learned Life magick, I could stay alive as long as I wanted. Plus I had learned enough to know that doing so would destroy my avatar and cancel out all of my magickal knowledge. I wasn't ready for that either.

They took particular offense to that, though. So again, I felt isolated, alone. About a week later, I found out the Brujahs were mad at me. Again. I didn't care. Unfortunately, their primogen wanted me for dinner.

I was out gambling and this woman was beating me, even with my magick. I couldn't figure it out. So I used magick to learn more about her: she was a Kindred. She was beautiful, though, and mysterious. I didn't know then that she was the enemy, and I didn't think that I had ever met her before. I stopped playing, knowing whatever she was doing, it was beating me, and followed her, as she left shortly after I did. I asked someone on the way out who that was. They said Juliette Shane. Interesting. Torrence Shane was the primogen of the Brujah. And the Brujah were mad at me—coincidence? I doubted it. And I was right.

I caught up with her and began a conversation. I also started putting on the moves, which I had gotten quite good at by then. Something happened, though. I didn't think she'd really respond more than just for show, but I saw her change, I saw her respond in ways I didn't think possible. I didn't think a Kindred, much less a consort of a Primogen would fall for what I had, even as good as it was by sleeper standards. She wanted to go back to her place, which I assumed to be a trap, so I told her to go to my place. To my surprise, she agreed. When we got there, we slept together, in what was then the most amazing experience of my life. She seemed to enjoy it too. I can tell if people lie to me, and she wasn't faking it. Only I don't understand why she enjoyed it so much. She shouldn't have. Only I suppose she drew my blood as we neared climax, but I guess the excitement and expectation was what she got off on.

She left just before dawn, saying she had to go before the sun got up. The next night, I was roughly accosted by Brujahs, who said their primogen wanted a duel to the death. I knew I was screwed, and I knew I couldn't run—not my style. So I borrowed a katana from my Gangrel friends; they figured it was the least they could do.

I pretty much figured the battle would kill me. He acted faster than I could've thought, cutting me good with his claws repeatedly. I was barely able to scratch him with my attacks. Finally I smartened up and used probability lines to make him trip. Taking advantage of that golden opportunity, I swung the blade down hard and cut his head off.

Even though it was a fair fight, I knew if nothing else, the other Brujah would be coming for me. I went home to pack quickly. As I did, I heard a call on my machine: it was from a woman named Katrina, who claimed she was my cousin. She said she was in Rochester, New York, and needed my help. I didn't need to be asked twice. I returned the sword on my way out of town, and other than that, it was just me and my Harley. Not since that early spring of nineteen-hundred and ninety-six have I been home to New Orleans.