"You want to know about the Massacre? You and about every other person who knows it happened, buddy. Look, I'm going to put it straight to you: it had nothing to do with business, or morality, or any of that crap. I didn't plan it, no one hired me to do it, and I honestly remember most of the week in hot flashes. I can tell you how it started, though. It started because I don't know how to keep my damn mouth shut."
"So I'd been in Chicago for a few weeks, stranded actually but that's another story, and had started putting my name out there for the locals. Petty jobs, mostly. Barley enough for me to feed myself. I am living in a box at this point, that's how bad it was. So when I got word that someone was hiring superpowered muscle, I jump at the chance. Put on my best suit, get my resume in order, show up at this nice place on the Gold Coast at midnight. Along with every hood in Chicago."
"About half rabbit when they see who's hiring. Duke Devle...Der... screw it, some Italian name. I never saw him, but apparently he was some big old money bloodsucker from the old world. I don't blame 'em for bolting either. That's like a lamb laying down with a wolf, but I'd been bathing in a birdbath for a week and didn't see as I had much choice. Also, I'm not a complete pussy. So us real hard types file into the building. They start asking question: training, weapons, experiences, power displays, backgrounds. You know, typical crap. Some, like this one dude who can shoot fire, they dismiss offhand. They make some of us fight. It was a fun night. We all file or limp out and that's that, don't call us we'll call you."
"So I camp out near that crappy little payphone I'd given them the number to, and I get a callback that night."
"There are three of us there, me, a guy named Marco who could emit clouds or something, and this other guy Steve who had 180 degree vision. We chat it up between ourselves while we wait for whoever, maybe Duke fangface to show up when this kid walks in flanked by big guys with
mean written all over them in bold print. And let me tell you this: it was a kid. I don't care how old you are, you are a kid if you act like him. He was the single douchiest little wannabe gangster snot I have ever seen in my life. He's wearing, like, an entire jewelry store and then some. He's got on this long, fur trimmed coat and a fedora and these black circle sunglasses. Some people can pull that look off, make it work. This kid could not. He grins this grin that specially emphasize his canines, and started introducing himself in this thick Italian accent. And he announces himself, all like 'You stand in the presence of count such and such, mortal this, bluh bluh that' and I swear to god I almost shot him right there. But I couldn't cause I wanted the job."
"So apparently Duke McnameIcantremember had sent his nephew Giovanni here to take up running the family businesses in Chicago after the Dukes old guy got whacked by a group of Mormons. Apparently, The Church of Jesus Christ and Latter Day Saints are the most feared boogieman hunters in the United States. Who knew, right? Anyway, Little Giovanni had decided to enlist some local super ne'er do wells to make sure the same didn't happen to him. We were to be his entourage and personal bodyguards."
"It was a good job. It payed really well, I got my own apartment on the gold coast, I got to sleep in, and Marco and Steve were pretty cool guys and liked them. The only black mark on the job was Giovanni. He was an annoying little shit. Unlike the other two, I never even payed lip service to respecting him, this was a job, an unpleasant one, and I was just going to do it. I made that clear. This only made the kid take a shine to me. I was this sort of mysterious dude who was unable to be cowed. I think it made him think I was a bit more badass than I actually was. He would pester me, ask me for stories, invite me to hang out, starts treating me like I'm some sort of confidant, telling me things about being a vamp and how it's oh so terrible. It's like I'm a stand in for this kids alcoholic father. I would have told him to shove off...... but I didn't cause I liked the job. But my annoyance with this kid is building and building inside me, like a volcano."
"This all comes to a head when we go out to one of those nightclubs that their kind like for some reason. It's been about 3 months, and now I have assumed the 'honored' duty of being his personal bodyguard/BFF. So, we're sitting in this private soundproof booth, Marco and Steve guarding the door. I'm drinking some sort of red wine wishing it was something harder, he has some 16 year old girl that he'd been pouring vodka into all night. So he get's done with her, and turns to me, and I start trying to tune him out. See, Giovanni was a sad drunk and I knew that, at this point, he was going to start talking my ear off over how bad it is to be a monster. So, I'm nodding along, making affirmations, he makes this whole deal about how terrible his life is and I'm looking at this girl laying on the couch, bleeding out, confused and scared and I just nod to her and say, 'well, it ain't as bad as hers.'"
"Is just an offhand comment, but her takes it all personal. 'What it that supposed to mean?' I try to play it off, but the boy keeps badgering me about it. So, I stand up and I tell him exactly what it mean. And we get
into it! Him spouting off his livejournal crap some more, my argument basically boiling down to ' you can be an alpha predator or have people sympathize with you, but trying to have both is a mite hypocritical.' Only, y'know, surrounded by more insults and swear words. Finally, he tells me to get on my knees. Y'know, the whole 'get on your knees and apologize, subcreature' thing, but I don't let him finish that sentence before telling him that I wasn't his mother."
"Apparently, that struck a nerve."
"Now, looking back I realize why we, me, Marco, and Steve, were hired and not someone like flame hands: our abilities weren't good for killing vampires. For example, taking away his eyes isn't going to do jack because they have, like, a million other senses. He comes at me like, ok, imagine a raging toddler. Picture that in your mind. You are standing in this toddlers crib, you can't get out, and it's strong enough to kill you. I would have been dead, but then he trips and smash through the table."
"I look down, and the girl has her arms wrapped around his ankle. She had rolled to the floor during the fight, maybe to try and crawl away or something, I don't know where. Maybe it was some last spiteful gesture or she thought I might save her, but nothings saving someone who lost that much blood. But I use the two or three seconds she gave me, grabbed up one of the snapped table legs, and drive it through his back before he can get up. He snarls like a beast, and I realize I'm screaming as I take out my piece and start hammering that stake into him like I'm Abraham Van Helsing himself. Marco and Steve are pounding on the door, asking what's going on, screaming to be heard inside. But I don't hear them, not until I take my submachine-gun and shoot his head off. I mean, just, saw it off. With bullets."
"Marco finally just shoulder checks the door open. The pair of them look at me, blood spattered all over my hands, Gio's head in one, my piece in the other, and they start to bring theirs up. The adrenaline's already flowing in me though, and I'm quicker on the draw. I blow 'em both away. Hey, look, they were my friends. I knew 'em better than you. They would of done the same thing in my situation, and all three of us knew that."
"I pocket their guns (no need for 'em to go to waste), pick up Gio's head, and break out the backdoor into the most terrifying night of my entire life."
Hey son, wanna' learn how ta' make witch balls?
Locked
Then let's try gregarious.
Lovely. And, hopefully, we'll get to experience a great deal of the world's racial variety first hand, be it human, superhuman or supernatural.
From that quest campaign thing, I presume?
He slays vampires? NICE. 
And two new characters! Time for some nasty, trashy, disgusting fun... 