Then, before you can control yourself, you scream, the Blood rising into your brain as your Beast overwhelms you.
Pattermuster flees with a howl of bestial terror. Driven by instinct, you chase him through the hallways until he invokes his vampiric speed to disappear in a flash. You force yourself to stop and control your fury. That's when you notice the three guards closing in on you.
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Before you can consider what to do, someone pulls an alarm. Patients panic and swarm into the corridors, buying you a few seconds to act. Unfortunately, it also gives the guards time to pull their pistols. One of them—for reasons that you'll never understand—fires twice into the ceiling, and the patients just lose their minds at that, screaming and running in every direction.
You push your way into the crowd, staying low and trying not to draw attention to yourself. The guards shout in outrage as you vanish from their sight. But when you duck around the corner, you see that more guards are coming, along with regular police. You sprint down another corridor, easily outpacing the backup, and run for the parking lot.
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You hit the parking lot at a run, then skid to a halt when you spot four police officers with automatic rifles getting out of a blue-black SUV. But they're not paying attention to you—gunshots pop from a nearby window.
The cops scramble for cover, then return fire. You can't see who they're shooting at—maybe Roadrunners—but the firefight gives you time to act. You can see your Mitsubishi on the far side of the parking lot from the cops, but you're not sure how to get there.
Another vehicle screams into the lot. It's an old Ford station wagon. The man driving it has the graying crew cut and hard eyes of a veteran police officer or private security specialist, but he doesn't seem to understand the extent of the chaos. He jumps out of the station wagon and shouts to one of the police officers.
Before the officers can react, the shooters from the windows open fire, dropping the man and blowing out two of his Ford's tires.
More St. Basil's guards spill into the hospital's main entryway right behind you. They open fire without even looking, shattering the glass doors. You dodge behind a concrete bollard as they hesitate, wondering whether to break cover and close in on you.
As they consider their options, patients start fleeing out of the building around them. One drops with a bullet in her back while the others run for safety.
The Ford station wagon is still running, and even though two of its wheels are shot to shreds, it can still roll. You hop in and gun the engine, instantly drawing fire from both the guards and the police. But you keep your head down and hold on as the Ford lists and its rims spark and scream. Then you gun it and crash the Ford right into a nice, cushy Lexus SUV right next to your Mitsubishi. Perfect! You hop out as bullets pepper the Ford and the Lexus. You start up your car, and scream out of the parking lot as the cops and guards keep shooting at the Ford.
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So it looks like the hospital will stay as it is. You doubt Prince Lettow will be happy, but then again, you're only a courier. Pattermuster might be a problem. On the other hand, the Tucson Camarilla has no particular love of St. Basil's riffraff or their semi-exiled leader.
A few miles southeast of town, you pull over and swap out the license plates.
When you pass the Motel 6 where you dropped off your old phone, you see that it's been burned to the ground. It's been leveled so thoroughly you have to check your map to make sure you're looking at the right place, because it's just gone.
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