Here is the revised version of part 1.  I have tagged the revised part 2
onto this post as well.



Information from the first posting of Part 1:


This is my first fic, even though I have been on the FFML for two to three
years.  I finally chose to write (and more importantly, post) a fanfic so
that I actually am a contributing member of the FFML.

That said, this is my first fic, sort of a test of the waters.  Please
keep C+C, if there is any, more constructive and not incinedary (I am
flammable).

I would like to that thank Carl Macek for getting me into anime, curse and
damn John Blankenship for seducing me into watching Sailor Moon (revenge
will be mine one day!) and threaten umm... something to the Darkholder
crowd for introducing Hentai anime to me (yes you: Dianne, Sarah, and
Marty!)


Blah, blah, blah,...

I think you have heard enough.

On with the 'fic:

P.S.: My spelling and grammar are atrocious. ^_^

P.S.2: I do not know if a crossover/fusion like this has ever been
attempted.  Oh well.

(thoughts) - I am using this format to express thoughts/emphasis, because
I do not know how to make italicized writing on Pine 3.95.





"Darkness, darkness burning bright,
Who will freeze in my flames tonight?"
	-Sue A. Side-L., 13th generation Malkavian




Night Sabers
A BGC/WoD:VTM Crossover/Fusion
Written by Me



	"May I have your attention, please.  Attention all passengers",
announced the female flight attendant boomer, "we will be arriving at the
Junction Airport of MegaTokyo within the next ten minutes.  The captain
has just informed me that we are now no longer in LEO, and have a standard
flight profile.  You may now remove your secure webbing and..."
	The young and dark-haired man in first class distractedly removed
the harness catch for his webbing, despite the small difficulty the black
leather gloves he wore were presenting in the completion of such a routine
task, as the attendant boomer continued to drone on.  He tried to keep his
movements sure and confident, but his nervousness made the movements
jerky.  Taking a few calming breaths, which he enjoyed greatly and
marveled at, even if he was breathing the recycled air of the aircraft.
Mackie Stingray willed his fear down, tried to stop the turgid emotions he
felt, and above all tried to avoid sweating.  All of these efforts were
met with a modicum of success, allowing him to retain the appearance of a
normal person.  In his mind, he began to review the impending meeting and
homecoming he would soon face, and how he would react once back home.
	"Excuse me sir, can I help you with that?", asked the boomer
attendant, leaning over so as to provide Mackie with a magnificent view of
her abundant albeit synthetic cleavage, which his eyes immediately went to
gaze upon.  The new model Genom G-304S, created and designed by Mishima
Heavy Industries, closely resembled humans, despite the vacant look in
their eyes, which made them the new favorite in the constantly shifting
forum of public opinion, as the humanistic styling made them more
comfortable to the people of MegaTokyo after the Boomer Revolution.  They
were perpetually cheerful, efficient, obedient, and beautiful, and thus
they found use in the service industry, both the common and unconventional
services.  This particular model was in the appearance of a teenage girl
with measurements no human female could have (at least naturally), her
voicoder set to series 3483, producing a voice as energetic, cheerful, and
bouncy as she was.
	"Ummm...ahh; I mean, no thank you", Mackie said as smoothly as he
could.
	"Very well sir", replied the purple haired boomer girl, beaming
with pre-programmed smile before she bounced over to help the next person,
one row back.
	(An amusing diversion), thought Macke, (and delightful eye-candy,
but I have more important to consider).  With a dedication and mental
marshaling of will and intellect, Mackie began to organize his thoughts
and review them, recalling and hypothesizing what the people he would be
meeting would truly know.  They were ignorant of the Truth, at least he
hoped they were.  It might be easier to explain things if they knew the
Truth, but he was sure it would shatter what few ties he had left.
	He had left for Germany to study Boomer research extensively under
some of those scientists who were former colleagues of his father.  He had
studied hard, for nearly a year, even taking time to help his sister and
her vigilante 'Knight Sabers' save the city from the genocidal boomer
Largo, which always brought a small glow of pride to him, even more so now
that he knew the Truth.  But then he transferred to the Stockholm Biotech
research academy in Sweden, and his life had changed forever.  It had
taken months to adjust, to become tolerable, if not bearable, in his new
existence.  Unfortunately, that mandated a lack of communications with his
sister, his only surviving family.  His new 'family' had arranged an alibi
for him, began the process of creating a believable "death" for him, so
that he could disappear.
	(And that should have been enough!), Mackie thought furiously,
(But no, Fargo _had_ to go poking, and one of my co-workers just _had_ to
steal one of my design theories; one I had told only Sis about.)  And dead
men don't tell advanced bio-mechanic theories.  It had foolish of him, he
knew, to go back and finish that last equation.  He had forgotten his PC
had a direct link to the research lab's main computer, and that it
batch-sent all updated files to his account for storage.  If only Anna
hadn't gotten so greedy, and tried to steal his secrets by hacking his
account, then trying to sell them as her own.  If only..., (sigh) what was
done, was done.  His chance to "die" a simple death and to vanish had gone
up in smoke.  His chance to disappear had disappeared.  His sister had
know he was alive, somehow, and that the circumstances surrounding his
silence were unusual to say the least.  She, and the rest of the Knight
Sabers, had become worried, thus necessitating this return to his home in
MegaTokyo.
	Thus the current dilemna he found himself facing.  The hurried
cover story arranged was that he had been in an accident and convolesing.
He could never 'return' home to his normal 'life'.  He knew that, even
though his heart ached to be with a certain red-head, and even though he
missed his big sister.  But he also knew if he did not return, his sister,
being wealthy, intelligent, and well connected, would not rest until she
had discovered what had happened to him, and thus discover the Truth.  And
his new clan had made it very clear what would happen then.  They may not
be Camarilla, but they were very concerned about normals finding out the
Truth.  He loved his sister, and his friends, and would never let anything
happen to them.  His more immediate 'family', the only ones he could truly
say cared about him among the kindred of his new family, had made it clear
they would support him, but also made it clear that their influence was
limited.  And thus his decision.
	"Attention please, attention.  We will be landing shortly.
Please..."
	Mackie again ignored the voice of the boomer attendant.  (Keep
yourself aware, always) spoke the voice of his mentor.  Acknowledging
this, Mackie placed the awareness of his peripheral surroudings to a
tertiary awareness, within easy grasp.  It was not easy, but then (the
best things are never easy), finished the phantom voice.  Smiling softly,
Mackie controlled his anxiety by force of will.  Everything would be all
right.
	(Arrogance is the fall into the eternal darkness), said the voice
of his mentor.
	His smile grew even greater at that comment, forming a smirk.
Arrogance, eh?  If anything, he had learned that arrogance was one of his
lesser concerns.
	The plane banked lazily, the morning sunlight streaming in through
one of the opened portals.  Mackie instinctively jerked away, panic rising
to a near total terror that threatened to break down his self-control,
before he regained himself, stopping from letting the animal inside
himself reign free.  Gulping air heavily, Mackie calmed himself, allowing
the light to cover his body, basking in the luminance that was normally
denied to him.  Which brought him to his other concern.  The formulae he
had would work from eight _to_ fourteen hours?  That was a damn large
margin, considering that his life depended on it.  Even with the other
liquid keeping him awake when he normally slept, he felt uneasy; too many
things were being depended on, too many variables in the equation.  But
there was little choice, no other real options were available.
	(Always be honest with yourself).  Well, he amended silently, no
other options that he could accept.  There was no backing down, not
turning back.
	There was a very slight jolt as the Zeus class trans-orbital
landed with near perfect precision, the result of the advanced computer
system that linked the transport to the airport.  The transport cycled
back, the speed dropping fast as the flaps and brakes reduced the inertia
of the moving craft.
	A last minute flare of nervousness pulsed through Mackie.  What if
the formula ran out too soon?  What if he fell asleep?  What about mir-?
	The appendages that would connect the transport to the West wing
of the airport were already moving before the transport came to a complete
stop.  The boomer attendants began to move about, helping passengers get
their carry-on baggage, thanking them for flying, and wishing them well.
Mackie stood up with the rest of the people around him.  They were so
alive, some being relieved to be on the ground, some being business people
ready to score big in the big city.  The urge began to burn in the pits of
his canines, pushing back against his mandibulars, but he did not really
need to, so it was easy to ignore.  He easily hoisted his carry-on and
heavy computer bag, not fearing the possibility of striking anyone in the
relatively spacious first-class executive section.  He scanned the people
in the cabin that shared it with him, all thirteen of them, adjusting his
Gino-Armani suit and his tie, and waited patiently to disembark.
	As he performed these rote actions physically, mentally he
fortified himself.  Again, the voice of his mentor and sire came back to
him.  (In all things, do your absolute best.  Always remember that you are
a one of the best, a member of the elite of the ultimate race.)  Mackie
strode into the airport with a confident and sure step in his stride.
(When in doubt, act with assurance.  When in a social situation, dominate
it, make yourself know as a power, but force only when necessary.)  Mackie
placed his computer bag over his left shoulder and adopted a hint of a
smile on his perfectly chiseled features.  At his bidding, palpable aura
of power and importance surrounded him, twisting the emotions of all those
who saw him to his will.  (Yes, twisting), thought Mackie, (twisted as I
have become.)  The self pity could not last, of course, as another of his
mentor's sayings hammered into his head like thunder, filling Mackie with
a sense of strength and purpose.  It said, (Never forget who you are,
always remember you are one of the elite, the true masters of all!)
	(Yes), he agreed with calm certainty, exhaulting in his power, (I
shall never forget.)
	Only vaguely noticed by Mackie, everywhere he went, people stopped
what they were doing, their eyes following the man who strode with such
grace and power, people stepping aside like commoners before a lord.
	(Which was only fitting), thought Mackie.  After all, Lord Mackie
Stingray of Clan Lasombra, Power and Strike Leader of the Black Hand, 7th
generation from Caine, had returned to MegaTokyo.



For any of you who are reading this for the first time, BGC stands for
Bubblegum Crisis, and WoD:VTM stands for World of Darkness (WoD), the
setting for White Wolf Studio's game Vampire: The Masquerade (VTM).




And, because it is so short, I am including part 2 along with part 1.




Information from the first posting of Part 2:


I would like to say: WOW!

Thanks for the feedback.  It was appreciated.  This part/chapter is fairly
short, but I am going to include a brief explanation of the World of
Darkness, some terms, and this 'fic.


Brief Note:

The World of Darkness (WoD) and Vampire: The Masquerade (VTM) is much like
the world of today, only much, well..., DARKER.  The TV show Kindred: The
Embraced, was based in the World of Darkness and was a story of Vampire:
The Masquerade.  Unfortunately, that show made it WAY too clean and nice
(vampires, without potent magic, cannot normally walk in the sun unless
they want to burn up).  It is a world of vampires, werewolves, wraiths
(spirits), changelings (fairies), and mages.  Everyone is fighting for
their own interests before the end of the world, which is always sometime
tomorrow (i.e., always 'close by', or 'soon'.  There are no real
innocents, everyone typically has ulterior motives, and the forces of evil
are staggeringly powerful (not Cthullu level; but devils walk the earth,
and angels are conspicuously absent).




Lexicon (Glossary):


Vampires:  Legendarily descended from Caine (of the Bible) according to
the Book of Nod (the text of vampiric scholastic pursuit and history).
According to it,  Caine created three vampires (the 2nd generation, Caine
being the first), who then created thirteen more (the 3rd generation,
called Antediluvians), these 3rd generation later creating the 13 vampiric
Clans.  The 3rd generation attacked the 2nd generation, jealous of their
power, thus earning the eternal spite of Caine, who cursed the 13
Antediluvians.  Caine left the affairs of the world, refusing to create
new vampires.  The closer to Caine (generation), the more powerful and
inherent potential a vampire has.  Vampires have several supernatural
powers (called Disciplines).

Clans:  An established vampiric bloodline with an Antediluvian founder.
Each has three Disciplines they excel in, and a Clan curse they suffer
from.  They are the Assamites, Brujah, Gangrel, Giovanni, Lasombra,
Malkavian, Nosferatu, Ravnos, Settites, Toreador, Tremere, Tzimisce, and
the Ventrue.  Each clan is associated with a concept that the clan
represents.

Caitiff:  Outcast vampires, or vampires who, when Embraced, do not adopt
the skill or curse of any of the Clans.  In 2035, they are particularly
despised by clan vampires (the great majority of vampires are clan).

Sire:  The vampire who creates a Childe (new vampire progeny).  To sire a
vampire, one must drain all the mortal blood, allow the human to die, then
let the blood of the vampire (called Vitae), pass the lips of the human,
calling them back from death, who awakens as a vampire.  This process is
called the Embrace.  In modern times, 2035, sometimes this fails to work
properly, as the human soul is consumed by the unholy taint in the
vampire's blood, creating a feral monster.

Mackie is a Lasombra of the 7th generation from Caine.  That means his
power has the potential to exceed any human;  with time and more
experience, he could be smarter than Einstein, more charismatic and
charming than Don Juan, and tougher than an Olympic athlete.  Mackie's
clan, the Lasombra, are skilled in the Disciplines of Dominate (the
forcing of will upon someone's mind, making them do as you wish),
Obtenebration (the supernatural control of darkness and shadows), and
Potence (supernatural strength beyond physical possibility).  Mackie is a
neonate (new) vampire, less than a year old (some vampires are millennia
old), and so is not too powerful yet, but circumstances have given Mackie
power beyond his age.  Mackie also possesses the non-Clan disciplines of
Auspex (supernatural awareness), Celerity (supernatural speed), Fortitude
(supernatural toughness), and Presence (the evoking and manipulation of
the emotions those around).  Mackie has more power and connections (and is
a member of the Black Hand!), but that will be related to later.  The
Lasombra clan weakness, possessed by Mackie, is that he casts no
reflection like the vampires of legend, and cannot be viewed through
cameras or be recorded on film.



Comments:

On the feedback I have received:

I believe that this establishes what WoD and VTM stand for.  I should have
established that from the beginning.  (Sorry, I have whipped my back raw
in remorse ^_^).

Yes, Mackie does have a lot of power for one so young.

Some people mistook Mackie's Presence for Majesty.  It was Awe.  Awe is a
power (the most basic of the discipline Presence) that makes the wielder
appear incredibly impressive.  Few can take their eyes off the person
wielding it, once they look upon the wielder of the power.  Sorry about
the description, if it confuses people.

On the same subject, yes indeed, Mackie is going to be mighty tempted to
use his powers on the Knight Sabers.  (He hasn't changed _that_ much).
But he is not stupid.

Someone asked for Mackie's stats.  Hmmm.. give me a few chapters, as I am
still toying with Mackie's Merits, Flaws, and background.

Some noted that Mackie would be sweating blood.  Indeed he would, as the
"formula" is _not_ a Concoction of Vitality.  Mackie is trying to avoid
sweating or crying at all costs.

I am glad someone caught the NukuNuku reference.  I will try to include
another anime reference every one or two chapters.

As to Mackie's plans for the KS... well... you'll see.

Now, on with the 'fic (which is a short chapter):


Again, (thoughts) - indicates Mackie is remembering something someone said
in his head (usually his mentor), or something he or someone else is
thinking.




"We are noble creatures, struggling to retain our humanity from the
clutches of the Beast.  May the Beast never win."
	-Anonymous Ventrue


"Hold onto humanity?  Defeat the Beast?  Are you serious?  Pardon me, but
here I thought that I was a nocturnal blooddrinking marauder."
	-Anonymous Tzimisce




Night Sabers
A BGC/WoD:VTM Crossover/Fusion
Written by Me



	It was busy in the new branch of the airport, with people milling
about in seemingly abstract and bizarre patterns, darting in and out in
their small quests admist the noise of a thousand voices murmuring in a
disjointed harmony of confusion.  Admist the bustle of normal airport
traffic, Mackie walked unimpeded by people, most forming a rough shell
around him as people stopped what they were doing to look at the young man
striding down the walkway.  Most would stop as he continued walking,
moving once more as soon as he left their sight, the entire affair causing
a moving knot among the flow of people.  Those who stood routed at the
spot as he bore down upon them were dismissed from his path with
importantly, he knew what they _felt_.  What he wanted them to.  Of
course, (first impressions are always deceiving).  Mackie nodded mentally,
acknowledged the wisdom of his mentor.
	Mackie went down to the baggage claim area, not bothering to wait
in line as he casually ignored the people of him, waiting in line.  (It
was not as if they mattered), a voice said in his head.  (If they are not
yours, not anothers', and they are of no value to you, they are nothing).
One man started to protest, but stopped as soon as he saw Mackie, and more
importantly, where he was headed.  (Never antagonize unnecessarily, unless
that serves your purpose).  Thus Mackie angled to the open counter labeled
'Baggage Delivery Services', where no one waited in line.  The young woman
attending the booth looked up from the computer terminal before her and
gasped.
	(People always like to feel appreciated and complimented), his
mentor's voice spoke.  Taking that advice to heart, he smiled, and said,
"My apologies for startling you; you were very engrossed in your work,
very dedicated."
	The woman blushed slightly in embarrassment, before saying, "Not
at all, sir! It was my fault."  Clearing the computer screen, without
looking at it, still staring at him, he asked, "Now is there anything I
can do for you?"
	Inside, Mackie laughed softly.  With sense as sharp as his, it was
not hard to detect the nuances in someones voice, and slight lilt and drop
in hers made the last question also a proposition, even if she was not
conscious in recognizing it.  Being a Lasombra, Mackie did what came
naturally for his kind.  He felt his perceptions warp as advice and
memories poured into his conscious.  Mackie stared at her for four
seconds, which he judged to be an accpetable time to let her notice
without making the manipulation too obvious.  As usual, he was correct.
	"Sir, is there something wrong?" she asked with a hint of humor in
her voice, and a smile tugging at her lips, showing his efforts were
succeeding.
	Mackie made a show of blushing slightly, and looking embarrassed.
He was now in familiar territory, running on autopilot.  More and more,
the voices continued their advice, his perceptions changing.
Unconsciously, the result of his training, he recognized her cues and
responded to them, so as to achieve the best possible results;  after all,
it was good to keep in practice.  The voice of another of his teachers,
Rosa Martinez y Gomez, spoke to him in her deeply accented voice, guiding
him on.
	"No, nothing." (Act embarrassed, make her feel special and
appreciated, as if her beauty is something special).
	"Then what can I do for you?" (Again the proposition in the
question, more noticeable this time).
	"Umm... I need my baggage delivered to this address." (Act a
little flustered.  When engaging in a handshake or exchange of items,
allow the hand to touch long enough for her to recognize the touch, but
not long enough to excite comment or allow her recognize what you truly
are, if she is mortal).
	"Alright, sir", she said with a genuine smile.  (There are three
possible outcomes at this point: she will not recognize the effort, she
will recognize the effort and feel offended or scared, or she will
recognize the effort and then feel empowered and secure in herself.)  He
felt the latter was most likely.  The pressure in his mind was beginning
to pound at this point, the mental guidance driving him on.)  His mentor's
voice came back to him again, (It is good to have them feel secure, for
then they are one step to being under your control.)
	"Alright Mr. Stingray, there you are sit, your luggage will be
delivered by three o'clock today", she said, smiling up at him from her
seat.
	Within himself, he felt the Beast rumble, and his teachings came
back full force, Mackie smirking inwardly as arrogance and contempt welled
up within himself.  (Pavlovian dog), he thought scornfully of the woman
before him, (better give you your reinforcement).  With no hint of his
thoughts in his eyes or face, Mackie leaned his down and forward slightly,
saying "Thank you very much", while looking directly in her eyes.  (Oh
God), he thought, returning to his normal frame of mind.  Her green eyes.
	"Anytime, sir."
	She was now flushing brightly as he turned to walk away, the offer
clearly out in the open from her tone of voice.  As he did so, he saw two
other young women staring at him, both trying to turn away not he had
turned around, unable to do so as they were caught in his power.  He
ignored them and walked on.
	He continued to where his sister and his friends would probably
meet him.  Inside, he felt sick.  (I can't believe I just did that), part
of him moaned, while another part of him still reveled in the
manipulation, at the power and skill he had exercised.  (Part of your
given right!), his mentor berated him mercilessly within his memory,
(Remember who and what you are! Yes it may be cruel at times, but so is
life.)  And to be honest, there was no real harm done.  In fact, he
probably made the young woman's day.  Yes, no harm done.  No harm.
	It was the eyes.  Yes, the eyes.  Even though his vision had
easily picked up on the imperfections in her eyes that revealed them to be
cybernetic implants, those green eyes reminded him so much of Nene. Ah
Nene, Nene, Nen, Nene.  She had always been a part of him, his lady on the
pedestal, the ray of light whom he had fought for.  He was no knight, no
hero, but was simply a person forced by a thousand different factors to do
what he had to do.  They _had_ to understand, _she_ had to understand, he
did this so everyone could one day have happy and contented lives.
	But could he manipulate his sister and the others (Nene!) as
easily as he had done with the young woman? As ruthlessly?
	He had to.
	There was no choice.
	And as if in response to his moving thought, his moving feet had
brought him to the point where his heightened senses, pushed into the
background but not forgotten, allowed him to hear familiar voices admist
the soft roar of people.
	"...stop that!", from an indignant sounding Nene.
	Chuckles from Priss and Linna.
	(Sis),  (Nene.)
	The world seemed to rush in on Mackie.
	It was time.



Part 3, revised, will be out soon.