Cheesehead’s Final Nights: “The Wall”

Notes by Michael

So how did I end up here with you, right? Dead, you say? Turns out I don’t believe in mortality any more. I’ll get back to that, but let’s talk specifics. I mean, what else do we have to do?

So it was the second day of my little adventure. I’m told it is night when we are awake, but I hadn’t seen the day since before I was turned decades ago, so I just call them days. Anyway, the “day” before, I had said my goodbyes to my friends and promised to not miss Celena’s next show and I was off.

The job was simple: set up these little VLF Magnetic Loop transistors to boost the signals and reach of the commune’s underground communications array as I welded shut some more manholes from below. I would never have to be polluted by the sight of the moon, I was promised. I was given a hefty cart of materials and Pierre sent me on my way. I have done many maintenance jobs for the Undercity in my time: but I had rarely ventured as close to the surface as I was about to.

So, I was doing the whole whistle while you work thing, you know? Setting up the transistors at regular intervals and pulling out my welding kit, dragging my giant-ass cart ever further down the Main Line. It was a tough job, welding. It took lots of courage, protective equipment and gumption to accomplish. And that’s the main reason we didn’t move in teams of two: just in case the Beast took over. Being an Architect, though, I had long ago mastered my fears . . . well, as much as I could master something so primal. It wasn’t fire, but it was like it. But something about holding that power in my hands gave me such wicked awe. It was the tiny sparks that got to me though. Now, those were a bitch. Completely harmless and fizzled away probably before they even hit my gloves or apron, but still the little fuckers could give me a fright. Still, I soldiered on, daring myself to do one more cover after another.

Then I came to one manhole cover that was not so secure. I should have just fitted it into place and welded it shut, but I just couldn’t. I had my equipment in hand: I just had to jostle the thing a little. But a soft breeze and something that wasn’t the acrid scent of human feces swept across my nose from above. Something familiar.

Despite my reservations, I sat down my equipment and held my hand to the cover. Cold. It was cold outside, I gathered. I slid into the shadows, just as my sire had taught me years ago . . . just in case I ever needed to use that ability. To be honest with you, I had only ever used that gift in silly games with Celena and Margolis. There isn’t much reason to hide among the brethren. Even though I knew it was a bad idea, I slid my hands below the chilled metal and pushed upwards.

I was not prepared for the full force of the wind on my face, but what a punch! The wind swept the heady aroma of coffee to me. The smell was slightly sickening in the way that all food and drink is sickening, but it also fed a memory in whatever rotten bit of flesh remained in my brain. Coffee had been so important to me in life. So many nights staying up, working on blueprints, and before that studying. I could see my father’s face as he read the newspaper. I propped my head above the threshold and opened my eyes for the first time in the lands above.

It was so much bigger than I had remembered! I wanted to see stars. I wanted to see a bright, full blue moon smiling down on me. But there was too much light in the city for much of that, and the moon looked to be just a little blotch of a thing, not even half full. I was in an alleyway behind a coffee shop. I could see the signs on the back of the building. I was still surrounded by trash, but at least there was a breeze.

I savored the air for perhaps a moment longer than I thought wise at the time, but knowing now that I only had an hour to live from that moment, I don’t regret it one bit, I can tell you.

My VLF comm began to hiss with a start and my Obfuscation was dissipated. It is a good thing that I was in an alleyway.

I scrambled back down the hole and sealed the cover behind me.

“Yes, this is Cheese 1," I said in my walkie.

“That’s enough of that,” said a familiar gravelly voice on the other end. “I need you to focus Cheesehead.”

Suddenly, I was afraid that Cylus Pine on the other end of the walkie had somehow sensed me disobeying the Strictures with my little momentary field trip. Could, maybe, the Moravignians do that? Sense that I had stepped out? I shuddered realizing they probably could.

But Cylus quickly allayed my fears.

“Now listen closely,” He said. “We believe that you are our closest person to an asset in danger and we need you to assist them. What is your current location?”

“Ummm . . .” I quickly looked for a pipe marking to find my spot. “Intersection A756.”

“Hmm, okay, we can work with that,” Cylus sounded relieved. “I need for you to head south immediately . . . er, back toward the Main Line and hurry!”

“What do you mean asset? And ‘hurry?’” I protested with questions. “This stuff is heavy you know, it’s kind of slow work, begging your pardon.”

I was vaguely annoyed. Cylus Pine was the Ambassador to the Smoothskins and not my supervisor. This whole “assisting an asset” thing sounded dangerous. I was up for a little adventure, but I wasn’t an Operative. I had no desire to be an Operative.

“Run south and we’ll talk,” Cylus ordered. “The Undercity needs you.”

With that, my reservations were completely wiped away and I left my tools, gloves, welding helmet and apron in the cart with my remaining transistors. I started running south, sloshing through mounds of offal and less discernible filth on my way.

“There are two Smoothskins in our Domain,” Cylus began. “I need for you to intercept them.”

“I’m not really a trained fighter,” I protested, despite my desire to help the Undercity. “I couldn’t repel an invasion.”

“These Smoothskins are not the invaders. They are friends,” Cylus said calmly. “You are to meet them and guide them to the Underlake.”

I had never heard of such a thing before. As far as I knew, only Nosferatu, our half-Nos blood servers and Moravignians were ever allowed past the Antechamber. Even that mad doctor who was more a mouldering corpse than a “Kindred” only rarely ventured into the Deep Undercity. But at least he was a bit like us. Smoothskin vampires? Never.

“I realize that it is unorthodox,” Cylus could sense my trepidation. “But these are unprecedented times. The Camarilla is under siege by the Sabbat. These two are trusted agents of ours who have pulled many jobs for us in the Skinlands where we cannot. And they might have vital information to the battle above.”

These words all swam in my mind. I had only heard these words a few times in whispers. The Camarilla, I believe, is the name of the skins topside that Cylus and the Operatives deal with. The Sabbat must be the religious fanatics we were sometimes warned about. But no one had ever explained these things to me in detail. And until this moment, I didn’t really care about it at all.

“So, I’m to take them to the Underlake,” I continued. “Who are they?”

“One is a Brujah named Thaïs, the other is a Toreador named Desirée,” Cylus answered.

“What is a Brujah?” I asked.

“Never mind about all of that. They are two Smoothskin women. Night creatures, though not of our brood,” Cylus explained.

“So, meet up with them and say what?” I inquired.

“I’m headed in your direction. So, just find them. They will be lost around A124,” Cylus panted. “There’s a war going on up top. Explosions around the city, terrorist attacks as a ruse, protesters filling the streets, police action, a full-scale war!”

“Okay, do you want to talk to them when I find them?” I asked.

“Don’t bother,” Cylus started. “I’m on my way, besides, they don’t need to know everything about our communications systems. They are guests, after all, and this has never been done before. We don’t want them so deep into the Undercity that they see all of our great tunnels and monuments. It is best that you take them to the island in the center of the Underlake.”

“There are a couple of islands —” I began.

Cylus cut me off, “Yes, yes, the largest one in the center, with all the fairy lights on it.”

“Oh, you mean Heart Island,” I said.

“Someone gave it a name?” Cylus scoffed. “Well never you mind. Then yes, ‘Heart Island’ I suppose. Take your skiff. Over and out.”

I tried to protest, but the line went dead. There was nothing for it but to continue running.

I could hear some splashing ahead and followed the noise. I rounded the bend and pushed my way through a smaller tunnel and then I saw yet another great marvel I never imagined I’d see: a white alligator. The majestic beast had its mouth wide open and gave a guttural growl, but it wasn’t me it was threatening.

Two beautiful Smoothskins with tattered clothes were yelling at the beast. One was very tall and stood ahead. Only another of the blood could be so bold. These must be the two I was looking for. Still, she seemed not to have things completely under control: she was no Nosferatu. I had to break this standoff before someone got hurt.

I held my arms out in a calming gesture as the beast spun around to meet my gaze. And so I knew: I had it. Margolis had helped me hone my skills long ago. I wasn’t a great shepherd like him, but I had some rudimentary knowledge of controlling beasts and bending them to my will. Especially with the help of the blood. I looked deep into the creature’s eyes and made contact.

Poor girl! She was just scared. Through her eyes, I could see her struggle. She had escaped the fighting above at what I could understand as a zoo, but she had only ever known as her home. There was a crack in the ground created by what looked like a mass of humans all rolled into a ball in her mind. I could only imagine that the gator couldn’t understand what she was seeing, because I certainly couldn’t understand what she was explaining to me. Anyway, my girl was scared. All of her sisters started acting strange and doing what these other creatures wanted, so Snow White here decided to run into that crack and slip down below, in hopes that things might be better for her in the unknown.

I knew I’d need to report the cracks and get that fixed, but . . . you know . . . priorities.

I fed her some of my blood and Snow White lapped it up appreciatively. The two Skinbloods had a mix of relief and shock at what I was up to, but I just stared into Snow White’s eyes and bid her travel down through the Main Line down the grates to the Bestiary where Margolis and the Shepherds could take care of her. I promised her that she would be safe and well fed if she did as I asked.

“What a beaut!” I said to the two ladies.

It had been a while since I had seen a Smoothskin. Granted, we had half-Nos servitors in our land down below, but their skin was not so smooth.

“You must be Thaïs and Desirée?” I asked, knowing they couldn’t be anyone else.

“Yeah, I’m Thaïs, now . . . hold on, how’d you do that?” the tall one asked me.

“Ah, it’s a power of the blood,” I answered matter-of-factly, somewhat surprised that she didn’t have the same power. Perhaps she didn’t have friends like Margolis to teach her. How sad.

She seemed incredulous. But me having no way of explaining it further, she moved on to other lines of questioning.

“Cylus send you?” Thaïs asked.

“Why yes!” I answered. “I am to take you to safety, so follow me.”

We had a longer conversation about Disciplines as I found a skiff we could use. I left all my tools behind, as this was a more pressing mission . . . perhaps at last the “adventure” Celena wanted for me. The ladies were nice enough to me and seem gobsmacked by the tunnels as they opened up from the Main Line into the Underlake.

I paddled up to Heart Island and lodged the skiff on the shore of the tiny space. It was nice enough there, though the stench was rather overwhelming - especially after having had a whiff of a real breeze earlier. I kicked at the rocks and tweaked some of the lights a bit . . . just to make sure the wiring was still in good order. And the three of us settled into a nice conversation.

Through the miasma, I could see a boat pulling up. After a moment, I could make out Cylus Pine in his top hat standing at the prow, poor Broddus paddling behind. After a minute or two of sloshing through the sludge, the boat docked onto Heart Island and Cylus stepped off.

The three seemed to know one another and began in a rapid fire of questions and revelations. Again those words: “Sabbat!” “Camarillia” “The Prince” “Ventrue.” Talking of coups, and wars. So, indeed the “sky was falling” like Periwinkle said. I was interested, but they were talking of a world I knew nothing about.

And just as they seemed to be formulating a course of action, the sound of an unholy chorus rung out and a pink-purple ray of light descended like a guillotine from the roof of the cavern. It moved so fast and I thought to jump, but then I thought nothing.

And that was it. I died. Obliterated and I don’t have any idea how. I may never fucking know. I washed away and what is left of me ended up . . . here . . . ? . . . wherever we are . . . ?

But now back to that whole thing I was telling you about not believing in death. I was already told I should be dead, but kept on trucking as a hideous monster in a filthy underground summer camp. FOR YEARS! But, again, I was warned that I could be dead by fire or sunlight or . . . whatever the fuck killed me. But, here I am jabbering away about how I died the second time. I know you wisps tell me I can be turned into a brick or swept away by some storm, but I don’t believe I can actually die anymore. I’ll believe it when I don’t experience anything anymore. And then, well, I won’t care anyway. Now will I?

So, what are you in for? First time? Ha.