THE DAILY TRAVESTY | A Tooth for a Tooth
THE DAILY TRAVESTY for March 13, 2000
    Volume 1, Issue 48
 
 
Part 3 of the Vampire: Masquerade series was written by Tim D. 
We are back to Rhal's point of view.
 

A Tooth for a Tooth

It stings.  That is to be expected.  But now, what to do.  First, let’s analyze the situation.  Focus, first, on what you are seeing.  Well, it appears to be the contents of a significant portion of my skull on the windshield in front of me.  Question, how much does this inhibit your ability to function?  Answer, not a whole fucking lot.  That is very good.  Now, what are we going to do abut it?  Simplest answer, heal the damage. Good, do that.

Still reveling in his act of newfound will, and still looking wonderingly at the blood, skull, and brain on the windshield, Jeffery does not notice the entrance wound heal itself over.  Nor does the driver, who is breaking the limo and pulling off to the side of the road, a look of surprise and a little horror on his face.  The limo is silent, for now. Everyone is to stunned to speak.  They have all seen violence worse than this, but never so sudden or from such an unexpected source. Jeffery?  Never.  Everyone is looking at Rhal’s slumped body, the spray of violence on the windshield drawing their eyes to its dark, sludgy center, where the brain matter is slowly dripping down the glass.  The first to look at anything else are Claire and Carrie; almost as one they look to the love of their lives, Jeffery.  The see his relieved and content expression, a relaxed smile on his face.  The only other person in the group to think anything at all is Rhal’s protege, Jhove, who has a split thought.  One: revenge Rhal, kill Jeffery.  Two: oh shit, he’s going to be pissed when he shakes this off.

The damage is healed.  Well, mostly.  Rhal’s eyes have been open, but only now do they begin to understand fully what they see.  Thoughts come quicker as his brain re-stitches itself.  The complex folds and networks flowing seamlessly back into place.  Funny how it’s just as easy to heal something as complex as a brain as it is to regenerate muscle and bone.  You’d think something would be lost, some permanent damage done.  But nope, brain is working flawlessly again. Blood drips down his face, Rhal ignores it, looking through the red haze it paints across his field of vision.  The damage is healed. It was only a bullet, and a small one at that.  Close range, but still, how much damage can a little piece of lead do to a walking corpse anyway?  Now, what do we do about it? Can’t let people go around thinking the Tremere can blow your brains out anytime they fucking feel like it, can we?  No, we can not.

It finally sinks in as the limo rolls to a stop on the side of the road, barely inside the Montreal city limits.  No one says anything yet, it’s too awkward.  Most of the occupants are still young and human and enough so to think that Rhal is dead.  You don’t just ignore your brains being splattered all over the interior of a car.  You just don’t.  Well, you do if you are an Assamite antitribue who has diableriezed his way up to eighth generation.  Which Rhal is.  The only people who have any idea that Rhal could be alive are Jeffery, who is too out of it to care, and Alex, the driver who has seen many years as a vampire.  Jhove is not the brightest light bulb in the box, but he’s enthralled enough with Rhal to think that maybe something can be done to save him. He is also the only one knowledgeable enough about Rhal’s inner workings to think that maybe, just maybe, all hell is about to break loose.

Well fuck me.  Who would have though. Jeffery.  That fucking SON OF A BITCH!  He shot me!  He fucking put a gun to my head and shot me!  FUCKING BITCH!  Jeffery.  Who would have thought.  Well, Rhal old boy, how exactly are you going to handle this one?  The first urge Rhal has is to launch himself over the seat, and kill everything he sees, making sure that Jeffery is the first thing he sees.  But Rhal is much too well trained, much too disciplined for that.  Rhal is a harsh individual, with a firm sense of justice, and an overwhelming hate for Jeffery.  He feels the rage, that undying, never-ending rage of shame well up within him.  To be a slave, a war-dog to a Tremere!  His thoughts spiral down to their blackest depths.  Rhal’s consciousness plunges down his spiral of hate, contempt, rage.  Down to his center.  A place that has been calm and composed for years.  A center, a heart of power.  Then, justice comes to him.  In his mind’s eye, he sees it, like a calm, flat pool of ink, of black water.  Flat as a sheet of glass. And justice comes.  Poor girl, poor poor thing.  Poor Jeffery.

A low, deep rumble fills the interior of the car.  It takes a awhile to sink in, someone is laughing.  At first, no one can believe that someone would laugh at a thing like this.  They all look around at each other, an accusing stare for whoever would laugh at this kind of thing.  Then confusion registers on their faces.  None of them are laughing.  By this time, Jeffery has sat up and is leaning back, slouched in the seat next to his family, his wife and his child.  Claire and Carrie.  His beautiful little Alice…

Jeffery has come to himself more now, and he is the first to realize who it is that is laughing.  And he can’t help but be very, very uneasy.  Then frightened.  Then scared.  Slowly, looks of realization come to the faces in the limo.  Then, the gore covered head in the front seat heaves back, flinging blood and a small piece of gray matter up to stick to the ceiling.  And the laughter bellows out, filling the car.  But it has a forced feel to it.  A grating undertone that puts everyone on edge.  They shift in their seats, nervous, and more than a little scared as Rhal coughs out a painful ripping sort of laughter.  The laughter cuts off abruptly, and no one says a word.  Rhal suddenly lurches around to face behind him, moving so quickly that he is already facing back when everyone flinches. All except for the driver, Alex, who is unaware of the history of hate that Rhal feels for these people. He doesn’t understand how close he could be to death.  Rhal is on edge, and no one is more aware of this than Jeffery.  Carrie senses it as well, but does not realize the danger she- and everyone within arms reach- is in.  Rhal faces backwards, every muscle in his body trembling with tension, a predatory grin pasted to his face, white teeth gleaming through his dark visage, through blood still dripping down his forehead.  The passengers look at his face, expecting to see a gaping hole where the bullet tore through.  They are amazed to see a clean, flawless expanse of dark skin before them, with only a thin coating of blood to show that there was ever injury.  No one heals that fast.

Now just keep calm.  Be at peace with yourself, even if you are at war with the world.  You have to do this right, or you will be cheated of your justice.  Rhal thinks that maybe this is going too far, that he should let it slide, appreciate the gesture as Jeffery growing some backbone and leave it at that.  But then, there is the pool.  The calm center that floats unperturbed in his consciousness. And it demands justice.  It demands that he bite the one who held his leash tightest.  It demands that Jeffery pay for all the injustices Rhal suffered under his hands.  His calm center is a sheet of glass over a roaring inferno.  He feels the smooth cold surface, and sees the fire raging beneath, and he smiles.  Rhal has a harsh, vicious, cruel sense of what is right. He shall miss her.  Perhaps.

No one moves.  No one dares move.  They all feel the tension around Rhal, the delicate balance that he must maintain.  They are frightened.  And with good reason.  No one can look away from Rhal’s face.  He is grinning, but his fangs are drawn, and his eyes are full of… something.  Some emotion so strong that even Claire can not understand it. It is beyond hate, it is too complex for that label.  The muscles in Rhal’s face are as tense as the rest of him.  Alex doesn’t think he’s ever seen someone with every muscle in their body flexed all at once.  But he thinks he may be seeing it now.  Rhal is looking at Jeffery.  Right into his eyes.  Time slows, and the rest of the world fades out around them.  They are alone in the void.  They stare at each other, hate vibrating between them like a physical thing.  Rhal’s soft rumbling voice breaks the stalemate, whispering to Jeffery, "an eye for an eye…"

The world crashes back around them.  It’s funny how the faster things go, the slower you perceive them.  Jeffery saw Rhal’s muscles flex, saw his arm come up, holding a fifty caliber automatic pistol, saw his arms launch over the seat, and the barrel level at…

Carrie, his beautiful Alice.  She saw the gun, not understanding what it meant.  She was still only human.  She was so small, only a child, he couldn’t possibly…

The sharp single bark of Jeffrey’s handgun was nothing compared to the shattering roar of the Desert Eagle.  The entire car lit up with the muzzle flash.  Four times it roared, as fast as Rhal’s accelerated metabolism let him pull the trigger.  The sharp tink of the chamber opening and the shell flying out could be heard over the lower thunder of the powder exploding, sending chunks of steel jacketed lead slamming through Carrie's demure form.  Four fist sized holes opened up in her chest. She was small, only a child, though over one hundred years old.  Her chest cavity, her ribcage, was broken like a crystal chandelier.  One thousand fractures, shattering her apart.  The bullets punched through her, tearing her apart and through the upholstery at her back.  Four times.

There.  Done.  Now, he either embraces her, or he lets his oldest dearest friend die.  Drowning in her own blood.  Ruptured heart, ruptured lungs, the hydrostatic shock of the close range projectiles alone must have liquidated almost her entire body.  Rhal had known exactly what to expect when he shot her, but still, seeing it was always different.  There she was, in her starched blue and white dress, a torn up brown leather jacket around her shoulders, splattered with blood. There was a lot of blood.  Four huge holes in her chest, in an almost perfect square.  Her heart was pulp, so the blood just seeped out, but even so, there was a lot.  Rhal looked at her; her eyes were going dimmer, she looked at him a moment, her eyes tearing, then her nerves lost control.  She soiled herself, and her head lolled back, her face drained of all color.  Her lips were gray.  She was still alive, but barely.  Her face was spattered with blood, but untouched otherwise. As he’d planned.  Rhal looked on in wonderment.  Justice.  Revenge. Jeffery. He looked over at his former master.  Jeffery stared in shock at his Carrie.  His beautiful.  His love.  He didn’t even look at Rhal.  Wonderful.  Absolutely perfect.  His pain was almost tangible.

Jeffery’s heart broke.  The world narrowed, shrinking down to just the two of them.  Whereas when Rhal had been moving so fast, and it seemed so slow, now time was speeding ahead, as if to catch up. Jeffery reached out, grabbing his daughter, his beautiful girl, his Alice, her blood soaking his arms, hands, front.  He clutched her to him.

Then their world was intruded upon.  A third party entered their world.  Rhal.  The name echoed in Jeffrey’s mind.  Rhal.  Jeffery turned slowly, seeing the monster.  He was sitting, twisted around in his seat, his chin resting on the headrest, his arms hanging over, as relaxed now as he had been tense before, watching Jeffery cover himself in the lifeblood of his oldest dearest friend.  The huge gun gripped loosely in his hand, still smoking. Their eyes locked, and Rhal whispered again, in his deep hateful voice, "an eye for an eye, Jeffery, a tooth for a tooth…"  This last ended in a low hiss that Rhal continued, hissing, and watching him.  A movement caught Jeffery’s attention.  Carrie.  Her mouth was moving, saying something, but her lungs were torn apart, so no sound emerged.  She was still alive? Barely, and going fast.  Her face was gray, her lips turning purple, and blood was now starting to pour out of her mouth.  Her eyes rolled around, looking for something, her mouth moving, her words inaudible.  He held her close, searching her face, desperately drinking in the sight of her.  His heart was splitting, caving it.  Carrie.  Oh God, Carrie.  Rhal’s hiss had not stopped, in fact it had grown louder. They were the only three people in the world.  Carrie dying, Jeffery in agony, and the monster Rhal looking on, hissing like Satan, swinging his arm, his gun, and looking at him, grinning.  And then Jeffery understood.  He looked down at his Carrie, at her lips, mouthing his name.

Jeffery, Jeffery, Jeffery, I love you, save me…