#infernalism

Naomi hated Los Angeles. The way it felt to have her every move watched, the way the city smelled of smog, it made her miss the serenity of her home in the mountains. It had taken her almost three days to travel from Asheville, and an additional week of reconnaissance, but she’d finally found her target, Atticus Dupont - Tremere Magister, acting Prince, and Infernalist. He had made it easy enough, a rather convenient Sabbat attack had led to the previous Prince's final death, and Dupont had made sure to stake his claim early, too early. Naomi grinned at the prospect of Dupont’s death, not only a Tremere, but an Infernalist, and if what she assumed was correct, a Camarilla traitor. 

“You still with us, Naomi?” Azrael's voice echoed through the warehouse that the gathered Salubri warriors had assembled in. Naomi, now freed from her own thoughts, felt the eyes of her elders upon her. She looked about the room recalling the faces and names of each. There were five of them including herself, each one of them her senior, and she had been sired over eight hundred years ago. There was Az, a grisled man that appeared to be in his mid thirties, his black hair and beard oiled to keep it at bay. Milo Sapovich, he was a shorter man, his simple brown hair and bowl-like cut made him look more a monk than a warrior. Then there was Addicia, a lithe woman who resembled Naomi in age, looking no older than her late twenties, her blonde hair done up in a ponytail so that it stayed out of her face. Finally there was Azrael, Naomi’s own sire, her red hair was braided in the back much like Naomi’s own. They were all around a table, a map with the cities layout before them and a route that wound until it ended at the Tower on Figueroa Street, labeled with sevens - an obvious Tremere tell.

“Forgive me Captain, I was lost in my own musings.” Naomi entoned, making sure to make her tone apologetic. 

“No matter,” Azrael continued, “As I was saying, intel indicates that tonight the Tremere Magister's will be gathering to sire new kindred, no doubt from their flock of Ghouls that they've been training. This will make storming the chantry that much easier but we will need to remain cautious, the internal defenses of the chantry are still a mystery to us.”

“Our wards should protect us from most of their stolen magics.” Dumas boomed, “Auspex should be able to pierce their illusions.” 

“Correct,” Azrael agreed, “But an air of caution will do us all well. Remember our target is Dupont, if any of the lesser Warlocks get in our way, cut them down without mercy. But do not fall to bloodlust.”

“What if Dupont decides to Sire a new pawn tonight?” Naomi chimed in, “Surely the sins of the father should not fall to the Childe, even if they are a Tremere.” 

“We will deal with that if it presents itself. If Dupont does sire a new Tremere tonight I doubt it will be out of anything but necessity.” Naomi nodded at that, she still despised the Tremere for their countless atrocities, including the genocide of her own clan, but she had at least observed the younger, more recent kindred of the Tremere pyramid, and many of them were unaware or appalled by the actions of their elders. “However,” Azrael began again, “Our entry plan remains unchanged. Naomi, you will act as the vanguard with Milo, whilst Rorke, Addicia and Myself will follow, after Addicia creates our entrance. Once inside we fight our way through, tracking the Infernalist through Auspex, once we find him we send him screaming back to hell. Any questions?” The room was silent save for the affirming grunts that followed the plan. “Very well, don your armor. We depart within the hour.” The group scattered to different corners of the warehouse, the sound of armor plates clinking together as they were strapped with leather to bodies softly filling the empty space. Azrael approached Naomi, who had just finished strapping the last bit of her grieves to her thighs. She carried her breast plate and offered it to Naomi, a silent request for assistance. A smile spread across Naomi's features as she took the plate. She had all but been Azrael's squire after she had sired her during the Crusades, only earning her armor after years of dedicated service to the Salubri knights. As Naomi pulled the final harness tight against her sire Azrael spoke. “Forgive me for disturbing your peace for this my Childe.” She began as she retrieved Naomi's own breast plate and motioned for her to turn around. Naomi obeyed and Azrael nestled the plate atop her shoulders. 

“There is no need for forgiveness, captain. My unlife is dedicated to the Clan, and the death of its enemies.” Azrael’s hands pulled at buckles and laces, making sure the plate was snug against Naomi’s flesh. 

“All true, you have always been an excellent soldier Naomi. But I caution you, do not forget to take in your unlife and stop and smell the roses as they say.” Azrael pulled down on Naomi's plate, testing the fastenings until she was satisfied. “How is that little Ghoul of yours, Sam was it? The dog?” a chuckle escaped Naomi as she finished fastening the final strap on her bracers. 

“He's well, a little menace at times, but he's smart and keeps me in good spirits. I have some local Gangrels taking care of him while I'm away.” Naomi turned to face Azrael as she offered her her own mailed hand. Azrael clasped her own against Naomi's armored forearm and pulled her in close. The two bowed their heads, the tops touching as they both let out a deep sigh. 

“May Saulot guide your steps my Childe.” Azrael whispered

“And may he keep your strike true mother.” Naomi whispered in kind. The two stood in silence for a moment, savoring it before finally letting go. 

“Prep your bike,” Azrael commanded, "Milo will not want to be kept waiting.” With that she left, making her way to the armored truck that both Rorke and Addicia were beginning to clamber into. Naomi did as instructed and found Milo as he had finished mounting the old Degtyaryov machine gun to the mount on her side car.

“Old thing still run, Milo?” Naomi asked, gesturing to the gun. Milo for his part slammed the dinner plate sized magazine on the top and pulled back on the charging handle, chambering a round. 

“Da,” he answered, his slavic accent giving the word a little more umph. “I've kept it in good condition through the world wars, although ammunition can be hard to come by.” He patted one of the many other plate sized magazines on his belt. “Luckily I brought plenty to give to our Infernalist prey.” He slid into the side car, his own plate armor rattled a little as he did so. “Come sister, there's no time to waste, our vengeance is nigh.” With that Naomi slid onto the bike, turning the key she felt it spring to life under her the engine loud and guttural. She looked back at the armored truck, and received a thumbs up from Rorke, and with that she peeled out with the truck following close behind. 

Traffic was blessedly light, it wouldn't do to have people wondering why there were two people ripping down the highway in full plate armor with a machine gun strapped to a motorcycle. 

“One minute to target, people!” Naomi yelled into her radio, “Addicia you have our entrance ready?” 

“Just you wait and see sister!” Addicia responded.

“Cut the chatter both of you, thirty seconds to target!” Rorke cut in. 

Naomi focused forward, the lights of the 777 Tower rapidly approaching. The fact that none of the outward defenses were active meant they're Intel was spot on, the bastards were busy. 

“Get ready you two!” Addicia yelled and Naomi watched as an arrow arched over the speeding bike, a small red light blinking from the tip. A moment passed and then an explosion erupted from the main entrance. A wicked grin cracked Naomi's features as she gunned the engine, the guttural roar rising to a crescendo as the bike raced up a wheelchair ramp, flying into the air as it reached the top. The bike came crashing down into the towers main foyer, those that weren't blasted away by the explosion were quickly cut down as Milo let loose with a torrent of electric green tracers from the machine gun. Naomi dismounted and quickly caught sight of a man in a fine burgundy suit approaching her, a long blade of blood forming in his grip. Naomi charged him, reaching behind her shoulder for her own sword. Familiar leather filled her grip as she drew the sword, and in one swift motion she cut the Tremere in half from collar to hip, his body burning to ash in an instant. 

The truck wasn't far behind them, barreling into the foyer before its three occupants disembarked. Azrael quickly made her way to Naomi, her sword unsheathed and shield ready. 

“Excellent work my childe, let's get ready to-” Azrael was cut off by what sounded like a yawn coming from the now ruined main desk.

“Ah I see, it's finally time. The angels have come for the infernal usurper.” A young woman who wore an almost loose fitting suit stood from the desk. Milo immediately trained the machine gun on her before Naomi reached her hand out.

“Wait!” She yelled, “She isn't a Tremere, she's a local Malkavian, Marco-”

“Polo” 

“Right,” Naomi growled, she had heard of her through her reconnaissance, but she'd never thought they'd actually meet, but that was Malkavians for you. 

“Right you are, young seraphim, and right I am to be here. I will be your guide through the windy hedge above.” Marco Polo made her way to the elevator, swaying as she walked. She pushed the call button and the door slid open. “Right this way, they are just about done!” She exclaimed, giving them a very sleepy bow. Marco Polo entered first, the five Salubri each looked at each other and shrugged before entering themselves. “The Devil will be in his laboratory, it will be well defended by his little imps.” She looked at Naomi then, an almost sad knowing look coloring her features. “I'm sorry my young angel but your wizard will be in another castle by the time our ascension has completed.” 

“My wizard?” Naomi asked the grip on her sword, tightening ever so slightly. 

“Yes, your wizard, or perhaps she is more a trickster now. She's already seen your metal pegasus. Fear not, you shall meet again where the bou's dance.” Naomi wanted to ask questions but she knew better than to try and get a straight answer from a Malkavian. If anything this may just mean she had another query after this hunt. 

“Focus up people,” Azrael called out, “We're almost there.” Azrael and Rorke readied themselves, hoisting their shields to cover the entrance over the elevator. Milo slammed a fresh magazine on top of his machine gun before shouldering it just over the other two heads. Naomi and Addicia crouched down to take advantage of the shield's cover. 

“You may want to get down Marco-” 

“Polo” 

“Right, you may want to grab some cover before this all kicks off.” 

“Fret not little angel, I am both in cover and not.” Marco Polo said with a grin. With the strange woman’s stranger words, the elevator dinged open. A bolt of lighting immediately slammed into Azrael's shield but the party began their slow march forward. Milo let out another burst of tracer fire. The room that they had entered into was a mess of winding halls that seemed to lead to infinite entrances and exits. 

“Port-side.” Marco Polo ordered and in turn the party moved left. Rorke lashed out with his great hammer, slamming a Tremere into the wall adjacent to him, leaving his chest a ruined mess of blood and broken bones. Addicia popped up, sending an arrow into the heart of another Tremere, and Azrael struck out with her sword, cleaving her target into a fine pile of ash. Naomi for her part stayed down, moving with the party she would be too exposed if she struck out with her sword. The party continued onward, following Marco Polo’s instructions as they fought on. 

“Does anyone have eyes on Dupont?!” Naomi shouted over the din of combat. 

“Use your eyes child!” Rorke growled, “I can't just see him, but I can damn near smell the brimstone on his breath.” Naomi nodded, focusing for a moment as she moved, letting her senses melt away for a moment until the world exploded in a vibrant array of colors. Each Aura that she read with her Auspex flickering too and from before she finally locked on to the black streaked soul of Atticus Dupont. 

“He's close!” Naomi shouted. 

“Right you are, child valkyrie!” Marco Polo answered, “Full steam ahead!” 

“Into the jaws of hell once more!” Rorke roared, “He's got his little council with him!”

“Rorke!” Azrael shouted, “Take the right flank, I'll take the left, Milo, Addicia cover us as we make our entry. Naomi, take that bastard's heart!” Naomi's eyes hardened as they began to approach the door. “Now!” And with Azrael's order the party’s pace went from a crawl to a sprint. Azrael and Rorke burst through the door with shields up, and almost on que Naomi had eyes on her target. Addicus Dupont stood before them, draped in ceremonial robes, drenched in blood, surrounded by a crackling shield of lightning. Behind him a blood portal closed, this Tremere’s cowardly escape magics seemed to have been prematurely wasted. Naomi began to charge, before she saw the ball of demonic fire, black as pitch, begin to form in his hands. Then she began her prayer. 

“Samiel, witness ye faithful!” Naomi was still charging the grip around the sword in her hands right and true. “I am but a mere vessel for thy wrath!” Dupont raised his hands a jet of black flame shooting out at her. She dipped to the left but the flame still caught her in the shoulder. Searing pain burst from the now burning shoulder but still she pressed on. “Let thy wrath guide my hands, let thy vengeance be my blade!” Her sword was glowing now, a white hot glow that would make lesser kindred fear the rays of the rising sun. She was on Dupont now, and with all her might she swung. Her blade bit into Duponts neck where it met his collar, lightning from the shield raced down the blade and into her hands. The runes on her armor began to glow a pale blue, the wards dampening the effect of the spell. She forced her blade through, severing leathery flesh and brittle old bone as she bore witness to Dupont’s final Death Knell. He raised his hands, another mote of black fire poised to rain down on her. But before it could fall he crumbled, his body turning from a pale white to blackened ash in the blink of an eye. 

For a moment the world was silent, the constant chatter of Milo’s gun and the war cry’s of the Salubri warriors muted as Naomi watched the ashes of Atticus Dupont fall at her feet. Then the world erupted back into a cacophony of sound. Naomi fell to her knees, the searing pain of the black flame now finally taking hold. Azrael was immediately by her side, Rorke and Addicia finishing the work of ashing the remaining Tremere Magister's. 

“Hold fast my Childe.” Azrael whispered, “I have you.” And with her words the pain from the fire began to fade, as if Azrael's touch was a soothing balm that pulled the very pain from Naomi’s flesh. “The honor is yours today Naomi, you did well.” Azrael helped Naomi to her feet, guiding her upward and bracing her against her own armored form. 

“We need to get out of here now!” Rorke bellowed, “We can revel in the glory after we get back to the safe house.” Naomi nodded and looked to Milo, a pained expression still darkening her features.  “Take my bike and make sure you're not followed, keys should still be in the ignition.” Naomi ordered, stepping up in the midst of their absconsion. Milo nodded and began to make his way out of the room and Addicia followed close behind. Rorke nodded to Azrael and took hold of Naomi’s other arm. “You did well sister, hellfires a bitch but we'll get you patched up.”