Ghost
Longchester Hospital for the Insane
The Good Doctor hissed angrily as Hiram tore through his coat and leathery, burned skin. The intruder's body did not bleed, but black dust poured from his wound.

"I will be back," the Good Doctor said angrily, just before his whole body exploded into a cloud of dust that twirled out of the office and down the hallway.

Hiram knew that he couldn't have destroyed it, but exactly why it had just run away because of a scratch, although a big one, was beyond him.
In the corner, Einhart still hid quivering and frightened. "Izit gone?" he said with a tone that betrayed his manliness.

---

Vampire & Werewolf
Loftstreet, Old Longchester
The echoing sound of someone knocking the front door soon found its way back to Ren, who did the knocking. No one seemed to be going to answer it.
"Sir, I don't think anyone lives here," Twitch yelled from the car, but as soon as he did the door into the old house.

The man standing in the wrecked hallway was not someone Ren had expected. The man wore a coat and a gray sweater paired with purple pants under it, but everything he wore had been cut or ripped. Nothing was whole. The man's dirty face was only covered by the man's dirty beard. He smelled of alcohol and feces.
"John?" the man asked like he knew Ren. "John, is that really you? MY SON!" He dashed through the door to give Ren a big hug, but tripped and met only the sidewalk.

Inside, the house was dusty and full of trash. Big holes covered the walls, and old newspapers covered the floor. There were at least three more homeless men sitting in the hallway, either sleeping or dead.

Hiram exhaled heavily, his ethereal form still sparking and stuttering with an unvented, scarcely suppressed anger. The intruder would return, he had little doubt of that much, and yet he had been vindicated, had proven himself the stronger of the two. The hospital was still his, to haunt and police as it amused him, and if it came to it he should be capable once again of defending his people from the trespasser’s attacks.

Somewhere on the floor beneath him, the ghost was conscious of the priest- Father Winters, Einhart had called him- lying face down, submerged in a pool of his own blood. The ghost turned back to the Head Doctor, flashing him a smile of cold promise, but to his annoyance he could scarcely find the words for a threat. He was tired, too tired, emotions and simple force of will drained alike by the turmoil of the past two days and nothing seemed quite so tempting as to lapse back into a spell of happy hibernation until his energies were replenished. Regrettably, the dead psychologist reminded himself, sleep was not a luxury he could currently afford- there were all together too many responsibilities to be met first. Someday soon, Hiram promised himself, when all this is done, I’ll slip back into the woodwork and slumber through a few seasons more.

His anger was gone, succumbing to a bout of bone-jarring weariness. And yet, even if he could not quite muster the strength to make his voice heard, there were still jobs to take care of and precious little time to waste. Forcing himself back into Einhart’s mind, the ghost moved briskly over to the body of the fallen priest, not sure why he even much cared. Perhaps it was in expectation that Winters might provide some future assistance, perhaps he’d merely opened up a little too much to the priest to watch him bleed to death while it was in his power to help him. It no longer mattered: the simple fact of the matter was that he still thought of himself as a doctor and no patient was going to die on his watch.

Prying a bandage from the first aid kit in one of Einhart’s desk drawers, Hiram knelt at the priest’s side, staunching the wound as he was best able. Blood seeped through the fabric of the Head Doctor’s suit from the puddle on the ground, but in truth the ghost no longer cared. It felt good to be alive once more, however fleetingly, and better yet to have the chance to put the skills of his old profession to work again after so many years. “Do you understand now?” The ghost muttered through gritted teeth, as he tightened the dressing, not particularly caring whether either Einhart or his patient could hear him. “This is what being a doctor means, you bastard. It’s not about the money, it’s not about abusing your position to violate little girls, it’s about saving lives. That’s what the hospital wants. That’s what it thrives on. Maybe some day you’ll understand that, if I don’t kill you first.”
OOC: Hiram is making a Possession roll on Einhart. If it fails, he’ll try again next round.

The next round, he’ll try to staunch Father Winters’ wound (using Einhart’s Dexterity + Medicine + Hiram’s own Speciality in Surgery). According to the rules for the Medicine skill it should only take one success to stabilise him (and stop him from taking an additional point of Aggravated each round). If he’s rolling less than five dice then I’ll spend a Willpower point to increase the chance of success.

I’m assuming that there’ll be a first aid kit to hand in the Head Doctor’s office. If not, then he’ll just tear strips of material off of Winters’ shirt or whatever else might be handy to try to staunch the wound.

For a fraction of a second Ren's ice mask slipped of and from his face utter disgust shone like a raging fire as the man face planted in front of him, and the sight wasn't exactly improved by the vile stench that followed. It was a horrifying mixture of liquor, urine and common filth. It was almost to much to bear, if Ren hadn't been such a frequent guest in vile places because of his occupation he wouldn't have been able to stand it.

"Disgusting..."

He spat at as he walked forward, right over the bum laying in the doorway stepping once between his shoulder blades making his back pop loudly before he got over him.

"Are you sure we have the right address Twitch?"

He called out to his driver, as he reached into his pocket and drew forth a perfumed handkerchief and used it to cover his nose as he walked forward, who responded only with a nod after looking down on the small piece of paper again

"Hello? Is there anyone here with little enough alcohol in their blood to talk to me coherently?"

He called out, listening to his disgusted voice echo through the house.

"Keep your weapons ready big guy.."

He said, almost whispering to William without looking back

Ghost
Longchester Hospital for the Insane
Quickly and surely, Hiram took over Einhart's body. He could feel how he gained control over his muscles and how the bloodflow worked through the veins. Within a moment, Hiram made his way to the medicine cabinet. There were no surgical tools there, but there was something he could use. A sedative shot would calm the priest and slow down the blood that he was losing.

Hiram worked as fast as his tools allowed him to, and within a minute he had managed to stabilize him. Hiram could feel the priest's pulse being irregular, but at least he would have a fighting chance. Hiram heard someone yelling in the hallway and running. Someone was getting help. The priest might actually make it.

((OOC: Since this isn't really a surgery but first aid, I didn't include your surgery specialty. Your attempt was successful however. If Hiram does nothing, an ambulance will arrive shortly to take the priest away to actual surgery.))

---

Vampire & Werewolf
Loftstreet, Old Longchester
Ren's yelling echoed poorly through the house. The men sitting in their own feces and dirt did not seem to care at all what was going on. It was only then when one of them suddenly stood up with a pistol in his hand.

The man did not hesitate, but shot nearly instantly as he was fully on his feet. Ren could feel how the bullet ripped through his torso and his currently useless innards. The force nearly knocked Ren over, but he managed to keep his footing.

Both Ren and William could hear a door opening and closing from above them, and someone running few steps before stopping completely.

((OOC: Ren got shot. 'nuff said))

Ren looked beyond shocked as the bullet tore through his chest causing him to stagger backwards. Slowly he let his hands reach up to the hole which his eyes did not seem too believe was there, but he could feel it as clear as day when his hands went over it. There was a large hole in his chest, and more importantly a hole in one of his favorite Kashmir shirts.

"You.. vicious bastard.."

Ren managed to exclaim in outrage after a moment of silence, allowing himself to swear for once. He wasn't exactly angry, but he certainly did feel quite a lot more inclined to end the poor sods life now then ever.

"Alright, seeing how they are rude little pricks i think its your turn to take over.. Some people only understand nice through beating"

He said to William, shaking his head as he focused his Vitae towards his wound, knitting the flesh back together, wishing with all his heart that he could do the same with his shirt.

"But do me a favor, keep the vampire alive if at all possible.."

He then added after a bit of though

Kneeling in a shallow pool of Father Winters’ blood, Einhart’s charcoal suit now perhaps irreparably ruined, Hiram permitted himself a shallow smile of satisfaction. He’d done it: the priest would live, the intruder had been cheated of a victim, and he’d even had the pleasure of putting one of the new Head Doctor’s sedative shots to their proper usage.

The ghost glanced up, starting at the sound of a disturbance in the corridor outside. Someone was coming, the proper medical authorities would soon be alerted, and it was time for the phantom himself to vanish back into the woodwork. Glancing pensively back at the office phone on the desk behind him, Hiram took a moment to consider a new and totally expedient solution to the problem at hand: he could simply call the local police, confess to an attempted murder and leave the new Head Doctor to take the wrap. Would the charge stick? The dead psychologist had frankly no idea. He doubted, however, that any court would be overly swayed by an honest account of the evening’s proceedings, and that much alone would leave a near-fatal stab wound to be accounted for.

Discarding this answer as impractical after a few moments’ consideration the ghost decided that he had a better use for Einhart already. The new Head Doctor would be made to serve the hospital, whether as an unwilling aide or simply as a walking, talking feeding bag. Finding a black biro in the doctor’s jacket pocket Hiram began scribbling a message on the old man’s forearm, pressing noticeably harder against the skin than he had to:

LAST CHANCE
BRING ME THE FILES
BY NOON TOMORROW

After dialling Emergency Services himself for good measure, Hiram took leave of the new Head Doctor’s senses, permitting him to slump backwards against the desk. Fading back into an icy mist- which soon evaporated in the warmth of the room’s heating- the ghost settled in to wait. Father Winters was unconscious at present and, once Hiram could be quite certain that he would receive the attention which his condition warranted, he intended to take advantage of the situation to establish a line of direct conversation of his own.

OOC: Once an ambulance team arrives Hiram will try to use Dream Thief on Father Winters.

A subtle smirk spread on William's face as he noted Ren's displeasure at being shot. It's not that Ren seemed angry over being shot. He seemed more....disappointed?

William's humorous mood didn't last long, however, as his combat-reflexes took over. He rushed into the house, slipping his hands into his pockets to equip his Silver Knuckles. Although he was normally rather nice to people who were down on their luck, he knocked one of the bums, who stood in his way, aside. Cursing under his breath, he blamed Ren's attitude for his thoughtless behavior. Always good to have a scapegoat.

William's attack was straightforward. The man was still pointing his gun in their direction, and William dodged to the side in case his trigger-finger was still itching. As soon as his foot touched the ground, he kicked himself back up and used the force to perform an all-out overhead haymaker. Not very sophisticated, but it would hopefully get the job done.

(used the strength-gift to deal lethal damage)

Ghost
Longchester Hospital for the Insane
The ambulence arrived at last, and Hiram entered Father Winter's subconcince with ease. He wouldn't be able to stay there for long. As soon as the ambulence would leave the hospital's premises, Hiram would be violently forced back to the hospital.

The mind seemed blank, an overwhelming darkness covering everything. The priest hadn't started to dream just yet. The darkness started to take shape and form, a blinding light at the end of the tunnel. The priest started moving towards the bright light. The wound on his neck had disappeared, and there was no blood on his clothes. He was heading towards the light at the end of the tunnel, Heaven was within his reach.

---

Vampire & Werewolf
Loftstreet, Old Longchester
Ren could feel his body expelling the bullet from inside his body, and his wound knitted together like someone mending a shirt at an ultra speed. His rage had gone, pushed back by determination to finish the job.

While Ren was mending his wound, William rushed towards the man while reaching down for his Silver Knuckles. But as he pulled his hand back out of the pocket, the man shifted his position away from William's trusted arm.

As William was distracted by his failure to hit his target, the man fired his weapon yet again but this time at William. He felt the hot lead pierce his skin just below the back of his left shoulder. It took a moment before William could feel the pain that the bullet caused him, but as it did he could feel his rage boil. He pushed the rage aside, concentrating on his target as he heard another man running down the fragile stairs.

After all the trouble and talk around the man Ren couldn't help but be exedingly surprised over his absolute incompitence when it came to fighting. He would almost go as far as to say that he himself could throw a better punch, even though he knew that the last time he hit someone he hurt himself more than he hurt him. And on top of everything the bloody fool even managed to get himself shot as well. Could werewolfs heal themselfs at a rapid rate or were they just able to take alot of punishment? Considering how werewolfs were said to be quite literally overflowing with life he didn't find it very unlikely, but sadly he had never been given the chance to find out.

"I thought you were supposed to be good at this.."

He said with slight disbelief in his voice as he took a couple of steps forward, his eyes fixed on their assilant. Inside of him he could feel the beast creeping about, silenty clawing at his human soul like it always did, most of the time he worked hard to keep it in check but now he would open up a crack on the cage.

"Let me show you what i really am.."

He whispered, his last word fading away into a little hiss. He reached inside of himself and pulled of the blinders, warping the true vision of the monster within on the poor fellow. To anyone else it would seem as if his long fangs were bared as a loud hiss passed from his mouth, a sound no normal human throat could ever create. An intimidating spectacle to be sure, but what the man in front of him saw was a horror far beyond any natrual visage, he was staring right into the true face of the beast.

(Used Nightmare 1)

Taking charge of the dream, Hiram let his magic do its work. Darkness and light alike flickered and failed, first dissolving into a static grey and then reshaping into a scene of the ghost’s own choosing.

***

The two stood once more in the Head Doctor’s office, outside both space and time, the frantic scene expanding like a photo still about them. On the floor beneath them, a likeness of Winter’s own body was caught, slumped face down in a pool of his own blood. Einhart cowered, face hidden beneath his hands, behind the desk at the far side of the office whilst a duplicate of the phantom himself was poised over the fallen priest, frozen in the act of tearing at the charred intruder-spirit.

“Don’t worry, you’re not dead,” Hiram informed the priest casually, lighting up a cigar from the well-polished silver lighter in his front pocket, white doctor’s coat billowing in an intangible breeze like a magician’s robes.

“As I said before, there are other spirits here, and they’re not nearly as congenial as myself. When your wounds are healed, I’d be most obliged if you could find your way back here. With aberrations like that on the loose, some of my patients’ lives could depend on it.”

“In any case, I won’t keep you. No doubt you’ll know where to find me once you’re back on your feet. Seriously, though, I really could use your help… people will die here if those things aren’t stopped, and I can’t be everywhere at once. Best regards, and all that.”
OOC: Unless Father Winters has anything to say in reply, Hiram will just see him as far as the hospital gates before heading back to visit Annabell.

Ghost
Father Winter's Dream
Father Winters looked down upon his own body, and then at the intruding "Doctor" as he was being ripped apart by Hiram. He listened as Hiram spoke, and somehow he didn't seem very surprised by all this.

"I have to ask for your forgiveness," he said as he stared at Hiram's recreation of events, "but I thought doctor Einhart was trying to make fun of me. You see, not many people believe in the things that I do."

"But this is beyond my ability, I'm afraid. But I know some people who might be able to help. You may not have time to wait for my recovery, so call 555-2610 and ask for Meldon. He might know..."

The scenery crumbled as Hiram was forced out of Winters's dreamworld. The process was painful, even for a ghost such as Hiram. As the recreation of Einhart's office had crumbled, Hiram found himself down in the boiler-room. There was no fire in the boiler, yet Hiram could have sworn that he heard painful screaming coming from inside it.

Two men walked into the room. Hiram recognized one of them as Philip Walker, one of the guards, but the other seemed to be a patient. They spoke in tongues, and as they walked closer to the boiler, fire lit up within it. They touched the boiler with their open palms, and the boiler burned their flesh. Hiram could hear someone whispering angrily, and the two men looked straight at Hiram with their mindless eyes.

---

Vampire
Loftstreet, Olf Longchester
Upon seeing Ren's visage, the man stared for only a fraction of a second before he started running. He ran as fast as his feet would carry him up the stairs, his screams followed in his path.

As he ran up, another came running down. A woman dressed in more fitting clothes, holding a large sub-machine gun. From where she stood at the top of the stairs, she started shooting at William. Ren couldn't count exactly how many she fired, but he watched as the Werewolf took couple of bullets in his torso and then stumble backwards.

Ren could see the rage boil from within William who quickly shifted into another form. His clothes ripped apart from his bulging muscles and his body expanded considerably. This place would soon be flowing with blood of his victims.

---

Vampire
?
It had finally stopped raining. Syanide was offered some petty reward for his part in taking down that Vampire along with Herst and Jed, and then sent away.

As instructed by Marcus, the leader of the Invictus, Syanide was supposed to report back to him any information he found important to share with him. Of course, holding back any sort of information from Marcus was a dangerous game to play, and so Syanide told him everything he could think of.

He told Marcus how they had resolved to fight with the unidentified Vampire, but he made a special note on how the Vampire did not turn to dust but instead turned to billows of smoke and dark slimey goo. After making his report, he was offered to feed and to heal his wounds, as minor as they may have been.

"I want you to contact Baron Ren Majere," Marcus said after Syanide's feeding. "I then want the two of you to investigate this and report back to me about anything you find. You should find him at his club, Dark Nirvana."

Of course, Ren was not in the club, but his goons were able to give Syanide some directions, after some persuasion of course.
At last he got to Loftstreet in Old Longchester. There he heard a powerful howl of a wolf coming from one of the houses.

{{{{As instructed by Marcus, the leader of the Invictus, Syanide was supposed to report back to him any information he found important to share with him. Of course, holding back any sort of information from Marcus was a dangerous game to play, and so Syanide told him everything he could think of.

He told Marcus how they had resolved to fight with the unidentified Vampire, but he made a special note on how the Vampire did not turn to dust but instead turned to billows of smoke and dark slimey goo. After making his report, he was offered to feed and to heal his wounds, as minor as they may have been.

"I want you to contact Baron Ren Majere," Marcus said after Syanide's feeding. "I then want the two of you to investigate this and report back to me about anything you find. You should find him at his club, Dark Nirvana."

Of course, Ren was not in the club, but his goons were able to give Syanide some directions, after some persuasion of course.
At last he got to Loftstreet in Old Longchester. There he heard a powerful howl of a wolf coming from one of the houses.}}}

Syanide quickly drew his gun trying to at least conceal it al little and began walking appearently aimlessly twoard the sound of the wolf. The sound of his feet splashing through the puddles on the ground being the only sound he made as he drew closer to his target

With a hiss of anger and pain, akin to that of a steaming kettle, Hiram found himself flung from the dream-world which he had laboured to create. The walls and floor of Einhart’s office splintered and crumpled about him like a broken window as the dream collapsed and- through a haze of spite and red mist- the phantom found himself confronted with a most disquieting reality.

With a predator’s glare, his Artic form already rising in a cloud of condensation in the basement’s stifling heat, the ghost took in the scene with a mixture of indignation and sheer, unbridled astonishment. He was back in the old boiler room in the hospital basement, in the lair of the charred intruder. The ambulance crew certainly had no right bringing his patient here, if, indeed, the priest was in attendance at all. Worse yet, the phantom fancied that he could hear an anguished scream from within the disused boiler- could Winters actually be trapped inside?

In a heartbeat, a simple plan of action had developed within the dead psychologist’s mind… immobilise the first of his antagonists and then, if possible, possess the second to make a more thorough reconnaissance of the scene and free anyone trapped inside the old machine. With a second voiceless, wordless hiss of malice the spectre launched itself at Walker… its icy hands ready to puncture the security guard’s chest and draw out the sweet, hot breath within. One way or another, perhaps the intruder’s actions really would claim a life that day.

OOC: Hiram is using Breath Stealing on Walker.

Ren couldn't do much more then stare in awe as he saw William transform in front of him. A small voice in his head screamed that he should get his ass out off that place but a much louder voice, more powerful was compelling him to stand and stare at what was happening in front of him.

"You do not want to miss this"
It said, holding his head in an iron grasp, forcing him to watch as Williams clothes tore off him and the silky fur covered his bulging muscles. He had never felt like this in all the years he had been appearing in front of vampire lords of all types, many of which were without a doubt some of the greatest predators in this world. But this was a predator of a much different sort but just as deadly, this must be the way a viper feels when he is faced with a Bengal Tiger. Finally as the transformation was complete Ren was able to rip his mind from that and focus on the task at hand, a task he decided would be best if he just left to William at this point, he was dreadfully allergic to getting torn to pieces by a raging Werewolf.

"Ohh bugger.. now you've done it you silly lil'bastards... You pissed him off.."

Ren said, shaking his head slightly as he backed away towards the door. As much as he would like to see what happened next he really didn't fancy the idea off trying out those ridiculously long claws that had appeared on Williams hands.

"Well, i would love to stay but I'm afraid your going to have to be the only ones torn to pieces tonight, Ciao!"

He said as he disappeared through the door, regretting his last word instantly. The fear really must have been getting too him too make him say something THAT corny. Now, he was glad that he was out of the house with the Werewolf but he really did wish that the one facing him as he got out wouldn't be anyone even related to vampirism, let alone an Invictus. Yet he put on his best surprised smile as he walked on to greet this visitor, keeping his eyes on his, completely ignoring the rather large gun in his hand.

"Mister Syanide, what a pleasant surprise, what brings you to this sullen part of town?"

He asked with his normal calm smooth voice, ignoring the loud noises coming from within the house behind him.

Ren put on his best surprised smile as he walked on to greet Syanide, keeping his eyes on his, completely ignoring the rather large gun in his hand.

"Mister Syanide, what a pleasant surprise, what brings you to this sullen part of town?"

He asked with his normal calm smooth voice, ignoring the loud noises coming from within the house behind him.

"I was sent to find you," Syanide states blatently as he puts his gun away, ignoring the sounds in the house as well.

"I was told to get your help in investigating something" Syanide quickly relays the details. As he finishes he looks to ren "well what do you think?"