The Vexation of the Masses

The year was 2241 and the world was a radically different place. I had slept for the better part of two centuries before I awoke to the sights and
sounds of a new era. Although I had witnessed the birth of the Enlightenment, two world wars, and the beginning of the Information Age this was a time
unlike any other.

Being a vampire awards one the ability to witness and experience events which a thousand mortal lives couldn't begin to offer. The need to "hibernate"
every so many hundred years does create gaps in time for us that are nuisances. I had just begun my most recent hibernation when the 21st century was
beginning. The countless wars in the name of Freedom and Democracy were slowly tearing apart the world, but never would I have imagined the world I
would awaken to. The cities of old had grown up to encompass entire countries. I found myself in an area that was called Region 8, although before my
hibernation I knew it as Hartford, Connecticut. The entire eastern and western coasts of the United States were now huge masses of buildings. The cities
that once stood divided between suburbs were now referred to as "regions". A total of 100 Regions were within the expanding empire of the
Inter-Planetary Confederation, which controlled all of Earth, and was seeking control of the ever growing space exploration projects run by major
corporations which dictated a large portion of the common citizen's life.

The Midwest was now off-limits to citizens unless you had the proper security clearances. The breadbasket of America had become vitally important to the
huge population of this new global nation. With the creation of the "regions" a new problem of how to provide these enormous new populations with food
arose. The land from Wyoming and Colorado to Tennessee and Ohio was evacuated and closed off to average citizens. Inside this area now designated as
"Project Green" the government had been using some sort of experimental cloning technique to alter the time required to grow food and process it. With
these new techniques the Midwest and a few other key locations in the world grow food for tens of billions of people. The Automation Act of 2198 had
ensured that nearly every job was now carried out by computers. This abolished the need for the entire unskilled workforce and a great deal of the
middle class. The only jobs available now were to repair mechanical problems, a few minor construction jobs too minor for robots to accomplish, and low
level programmers to update the most basic of computer software.

A new structuring of society calls for a new means to protect those in charge. Taking lessons from past regimes in history the IC created G.A.S.F. A new
branch of the military to help carry out any dirty work that needed to be done. These Genetically Altered Special Forces had enhanced reflexes and
resilience to injury. Of course, super soldiers would be dangerous to their masters so before the genetic enhancements were added to a soldier's DNA
they first had to survive a series of neural implants. With so many advancements in technology each soldier was outfitted with special transponders
which allow them to communicate with each other by mere thoughts and images. The medical procedure is still extremely dangerous and only one in ten
soldiers survive the ordeal, but to become a G.A.S.F. allows the soldiers' family to live in luxury in an age where poverty is all people know. The IC
also had access to these communications so they can be closely monitored, as well as allowing them to release a series of chemicals to provoke or calm
the soldier given the situation.

I've only been able to get this information from citizens who feel like talking at bars and pubs. The great majority of civilization simply goes to
work, watches the government broadcasted channels, and sleeps. Of course, such a life does not appeal to everyone, and there is now a far greater level
of crime than in the past. With unprecedented levels of technology, a more advanced and more productive society of criminals has been created. This was
where I found myself fitting into the new age of a global society and automation.

Chapter 1

Richard, or Rick as he was known around Region 8, was one of a select few beings who could recall what life was like before the Transformation. Of
course, those who could recall what life had been like could only do so because they couldn't lay claim to being human. As Richard walked down another alley he let the simple pleasures overtake him. The smell of human blood, the sounds of beating hearts mixed with the
pulse of implanted electronics. If anything could be said about this new era it was that the chance to feast on live human blood had never been greater.

During the Dark Ages the entire population of Europe had dropped to a few million. Now in this Region alone there were over ten billion victims to
choose from. Although, not all of them would go easily, every age has its dangers to immortals and this one was no exception. Richard had seen his
brethren cut down in a swathe of burning plasma.

Thinking back on it Richard could see it being similar to when muskets were first introduced. People could see black powder while dangerous was the way
of the future, just as now, plasma, while extremely dangerous and expensive, was vastly superior to weapons of the past. Although Richard had been no
fan of Anthony it pained him to see such an old immortal killed. In ages past it would've been able to revive him from any wound as long as his ashes
could be collected. He had seen first hand how plasma made sure nothing survived contact. The armored car which Anthony had been sporting was no match
for the new technology. Well, he deserved it, Richard thought, you can't live too grand a life of crime and not expect to make enemies. Glancing over
his shoulder he darted into a small doorway and slid an access card into the slot. The door clicked several times as each deadbolt slide out of the way
and Rick was inside before the automatic door had even slid halfway open.

The low, steady pulsing of the Techno-metal from the drug induced DJ was enough to drive nearly anyone into an epileptic fit. Yet, Richard was out of
options on how to elude the G.A.S.F. The local club on his sub-sector's block seemed the best option on such short notice. At least here his pursuers'
movement could be contained by frenzied dancing of hundreds of junkies. Maybe it would give him the few minutes he needed to clear his head and get out
of this mess. He was simply unable to comprehend how they had found him so quickly. Sure, it was a given the IC was a government that didn't tolerate
criminals. But to have the G.A.S.F. after him was far more trouble than he thought the government should go into over one petty gangster. He began to
wonder what had happened of the rest of his small gang. Were they being pursued so fiercely too? Well, Trent would know that answer.

The club had been his only hope has agents progressed down both sides of the narrow street in their infamous black and blue body armor. At least they
didn't have walkers out looking for him. Those things could crush a man under their foot or unload a nice bolt of plasma. Darting inside he was quickly
able to lose himself in the throngs of druggies who used the lights and loud noises to help hide the side effects of the drugs of their choice at the
moment. Glancing upwards Richard was able to notice the agents were beginning to fan out over the causeways overhead, eager to find him and knowing he
was trapped inside the building.

"Look what the cat dragged in. If it isn't my good friend Richard, how ya been man?"
Shocked by the sudden comment Richard spun on his heel, reaching for the plasti-steel knife tucked in his belt.

"Wow, I'd calm down buddy, no need to use that here," as the hooded figure glanced down at the blade held under his jugular. "I don't think you'd want

to draw attention to yourself, seeing as how those Agents seem to be with you and all."

"Why are there G.A.S.F. soldiers after me? I've been here less than a week, I should've been able to stay under their radar longer than that. You're the
only person who knows I'm here, you've got some serious explaining to do."

"Relax, I know you're upset. It's not every day you have a full fledged unit of Agents after you. I told you we would help you out man, and you've kept
to your end of the deal. Now, if you'd like to straighten this whole mess out, I suggest you start by taking that knife down. Then we can talk like
civilized people over in my booth."

As Richard walked towards a booth in the back of the club he noticed the hooded figure starting to make a circle in the air with his finger. As they
entered the booth the strobe lights suddenly stopped. All Richard could see in the darkness was a few bodies suddenly running to block off all entry to
the booth. Only the continuing steady throb of junkie music remained the same. Within a matter of seconds the flash of suppressed gun fire could be
seen, like tiny explosions in an otherwise empty void. Then the strobe lights returned and the smell of a d-lite drifted across the booth.

"I know you're upset about being spotted so quickly, but don't worry we've handled it for now." The hooded figure across the table gestured to the bodies of G.A.S.F. soldiers being dragged into the back of the club. Bullet holes riddling their bodies and tearing holes in their armor.

"Wait, how'd you manage to shoot through that armor? I can't even..."

"Explosive rounds my friend. You'll find raiding a few IC controlled armories will do wonders for your arsenal. Now, I'm willing to bet you came to see
me for a reason. I've never known you to drop by for courtesy calls."

At this Richard chuckled, humans seemed to be getting quicker and quicker.

"You know me too well Diego. I need to talk to Trent. I think I might have stumbled into a situation I can't handle with my men. I think it may be the
reason why those Agents were just following me. It has something to do with this."

Richard put a data stick onto the table, which Diego snatched up and placed in a reader.

"Hmm, yea, I'll let Trent know this is something he needs to look at. Until then you can relax in one of my safe houses. We'll get you some decent gear
and try to get up with the rest of your gang."

"If you think about it, it's nearly like London in the olden times," Said Trent as he sipped blood from a crystal glass. The high backed chair he sat at
was turned to face out the extravagant window overlooking the chief financial district of Region 8.

"So what brings you to my home Richard? I know you're not here to simply see how your old mentor is doing. You also went through a rather awkward means
to reach me. Diego, hah! How easy it is to have mortals do all our dirty work. You should honestly rejoin the Covenant Richard. It has so much to offer,
and you can live as a king, in a manner which all immortals deserve. I'm beginning to think you've forgotten who should be the wolves and who the
sheep."

"Well, I'm only here because those agents were after me. I just awoke a few weeks ago and already there's a lethal mortal agency after me? This feels
far too much like the Inquisition Trent, something's wrong here. Mortals don't do this, they can't. We're virtually unknown to them."

"The Inquisition, now that was an amazing time. Nearly open warfare between us and the humans, there are few things I wouldn't give to have that again.
About that whole being hunted thing though, I'll have to look into it for you. It's intriguing no doubt, and not the least bit odd. I'll have my men
give you some money and a decent means to protect yourself until I can find something out."

"Thank you Trent, you know normally I wouldn't ask for assistance from mortals, but having just reawaken I'm still disoriented and well, you know. Not
to mention the level of technology they have now. Here's my vox number so you can get up with me."

"Think nothing of it Richard. We are Kindred after all, and besides, I suppose I do owe you after that incident in Madrid."

"It's in the past Trent. I'd rather not think about events nearly a millennium ago. Certainly not that one

"So did Trent help you with what you needed?"

"Yes, he did, thank you Diego, now what about those weapons?"

"Ha-ha, I thought you'd never ask. Now you're talking my language."

"Wow, now I call that a weapon," Richard said has he was handed an MP7 Machine Pistol. The entire room they now stood in was below ground with 2 feet of
plastisteel and dual retinal scan access doors. The room was owned by Trent, although it contained weapons the covenant wouldn't allow its members to
possess. There were stolen copies of plasma weaponry locked in containers on one side, along with Mag-bikes and pieces of armaments from nearly every
vehicle or weapon imaginable.

"Mind if I borrow one of these too?" asked Richard has he jumped onto a Mag-bike.

"Not at all, feel free. Remember that's a Mag-bike though, so if you're not driving over metal your gonna go head over heels when you hit the ground.
You can bring the magnet back here to get a new one if you need it too, I'm sure we've got plenty.

"Don't worry, if this bike lasts long enough to need a new magnet I'll personally pay for it. That's something I highly doubt will happen. Sorry."