A spectre is haunting Europe – the spectre of the Carthians. All the powers of old Europe have entered a holy alliance to exorcise this spectre: Lancea Sanctum and Invictus, Mekhet and Ventrue, Unaligned and Archons.
The Camarilla still reigns in Rome, just as it has for nearly two millennia. It is time to end their oppression. On the ruins of the old society, we can build a new, free society, where all are heard and all may speak.
Mikhail awoke from his thoughts and peered in the rear mirror of the car. He saw how Uriel loaded the last of the explosives into the trunk. Mikhail started the engine as the other man made his way to the passenger seat. They were both dressed in black, loose-fitting clothes with an abundance of bulging pockets.
Mikhail pressed the play button of the car stereo, and from the speakers came the overture of Tchaikovskij’s 1812. The car drove off silently into the night.

“Remind me again, why are we dealing with these verdammte black-blockers?”
Ilario cast a glance at the Ansgar, who had voiced his hatred. An old, grizzled man, scarred and wrinkled, with a streak of blonde in his otherwise grey hair. The hatred still burned inside his old nazi-heart. In Ilario’s eyes, he should have been gangrel. The young italian lit up another cigarette and answered with a smile.
“Because, old friend, they have the same goal as us. And they will help us reach it.”

“Wait a minute? Why the hell are we dealing with them!?”
Mikhail gave Uriel a tired glance. The younger vampire, though strong, had never really mastered the art of subtlety. The last time he had suggested this, Uriel had moaned and protested until Mikhail gave the idea up. This time, he hadn’t even bothered telling him of the plan beforehand.
“Look, Uriel, we can trust them this time. The deal is this; we supply the explosives and they supply the location. Two Invictus go boom, and if they’re right, it will look like an attempted political murder. Everyone’s happy.”
Tchaikovskij’s cannons continued their bombardment. Uriel seemed to be contemplating, something quite unusual for him.
“But,” he finally said, “how can you be sure we can trust these Camarilla lap-dogs?”
Mikhail sighed. “They have nothing to win by not keeping their end. Besides, we’re all Carthians. They have the same goal as us, and they will help us reach it.”

Ilario dropped yet another cigarette butt into the puddle at his feet and took a quick look at his watch. 23:58. They had said midnight, and sure enough, soon they could hear a car coming closer. Ansgar reached for his pistol on reflex, but calmed himself. He wasn’t going to hurt anyone yet. Seeing his reaction, Ilario handed him a small package, and suddenly, everything became clear. With a glee, he stuffed the package in his trenchcoat pocket and waited for the new arrivals.
The car came to a halt in front of them, its headlights being the only thing to shine up the otherwise dark street. The doors opened, and out came two young kindred, dressed all in black, loose-fitting clothes, accompanied by… Wagner? No, something else. Cautiously, they started to make their way towards the suit-clad vampires.
“Mikhail, Vincenzo, it’s so nice to see you!” Ilario faked a smile while he could see Ansgar grinding his teeth.
The young one, Vincenzo, stepped forward, and gave what sounded like a snarl. “It’s Uriel.”
“Ah, of course, sorry.” Ilario cleared his throat, trying to ignore Ansgar cracking his knuckles. “Mikhail, Uriel, it’s so nice to see you!” He dropped his voice to a whisper and took a step closer. “Have you got the explosives?”
A wide smile played up on Uriel’s face while Mikhail stood back and straightened himself. Mikhail’s face was serene as he simply nodded and started walking towards the car. A moment later the four kindred was looking into a car trunk full of small, square packages labelled with a series of ominous letters and symbols. Uriel and Mikhail were both smiling at the expressions of the other vampires.
“We did our part,” Mikhail said. “It’s time for you to uphold your deal of the bargain.”
“Of course, come here, so we can see,” Ilario said, leading the two to the front of the car, giving Ansgar a quick wink. He took out a piece of paper, and held it out in the light of the car’s headlights. Mikhail took it, and read the hand-scribbled note.

Due to dangers of being overheard, I can’t say the address out loud. Therefore, this note.
Via Vittoria Colonna 28.
Park the car in the alley to the north of the building. The bedroom is next to the wall. Our ghouls will detonate the car during the day.
Alea iacta est.

Mikhail nodded.
“A powerful blow against the Camarilla will be dealt tonight,” he said. “I look forward to future cooperation, carthians.”
Ansgar took up place next to Ilario and the others moved once more into their car. The car took off in an inconspicuous manner, and rounded a corner. Ilario took out another cigarette and offered Ansgar one. The german accepted, and they both drew deep.
“How long did you give them?”
“Ten minutes. I figured that would give them enough time to leave us, but not this place.”
Ilario nodded and took another deep breath of smoke. They had chosen the closed down industrial neighbourhoods as the meeting place for a reason.

Mikhail pressed Back on the stereo, and 1812 reset itself. It truly was a masterpiece. The masterful composing, the performance of the musicians, and, of course, the thunderous roar of the cannons, their blasts crushing fascism under their feet. He only resented the glorification of war. There was an old saying that he loved; “No war but the class war.” The oppressed against the oppressors. This was class war. Their war was against the Camarilla bourgeois, the rotting corpse whose fascist rule had oppressed the kindred of Rome for thousands of years. He allowed himself to smile.
The cannons thundered one last time.

“10, 9, 8, 7…”
An explosion was heard throughout the dirty allies. Ansgar pulled down the cuff of his trenchcoat. He smiled that smile which always made Ilario’s skin crawl.
“I was off by a few seconds.”
Ilario nodded casually and took out his cell phone. As he began, Ansgar raised his voice again. “What exactly happened here? I hate it when you become this secretive.”
“Sorry about the secrets, but these men have been harassing a Giovanni for a few months. Anything involving Giovanni requires secrecy.” Ansgar contemplated that for a moment, before offering an approving nod. “He wanted someone to get rid of them, and came to me. Now,” Ilario smiled, “this Giovanni owes us a favour.”
Ansgar smiled as Ilario phoned up their contact.
“Hello? Yes, it’s me. It’s was just done. And you’re sure you can take care of the police? Excellent. We will discuss this later.”
Three vampires smiled as the cinders of two other were carried off by the light evening breeze.