"It's offered voluntarily, so that rule doesn't apply," Luis says. "And it's the only way I can give you this power."

Dean is obviously conflicted.  It made sense that there were prohibitions, or at least etiquette that said that Vampires should not use each other for food. That makes sense to him.

And here Louis, a Clan brother recommended to him by his own Sire had not only taken him in and offered to introduce him, bit to teach him an advanced art of the blood that would be incredibly useful.

But he had not even taken the blood of his own Sire, not even when learning from her.

This, was unknown territory.

"I've never taken blood from a Vampire before, not even Asali, what will happen?" He asks uncertainly.

"You drink," Luis begins. "Same clan." He points as you and himself. "Power!"


[OOC: Sorry about the last post. I temporarily forgot that Luis isn't that good at English.]

Dean still seems hesitant. If there were some other negative to drinking Vampiric blood, Asali surely would have told him, right? But was there some reason she had never offered her own? Some reason they had never used her own during their lessons and time together?

Would Luis try to take advantage of a Youngling such as himself? They were of the same Clan, recommended to him by his own Sire, but did that mean he should place such trust in him?

Hell, I'm trusting him to lead me to the Prince right? Might as well go for it.he thinks to himself.

"Alright, let's do it."

Luis fills the wooden bowl with about a pint of his blood and hands it to you. It tastes different than human blood, but it still replenishes the blood you spent on showing your claws as if you had been Feeding on human blood.

With the language barrier, it takes him about an hour to explain the differences of a full transformation compared to how you extend your claws.

The idea of a man becoming an animal was at once, both absurd and familiar.

Human traditions from all cultures had some sort of analog. A person who can become an animal, or speak to an animal, or call animals. These sorts of stories are as old as the species. So the idea of what Dean was setting out to do was not by any means new.

But trying to tell your brain, trying to tell your blood and your bones and your body that it could be done. That seemed impossible.

Fear and doubt assailed him. What if he got "stuck"? What if he lost his mind? What if he only changed part way? What if this was some kind of sick joke?

But then he had watched Luis do it, and he had watched him come back, and from there he had least had a starting point, mentally, for what he was trying to do.

What was probably most odd is that it felt like his blood, like that thing that lived within him wanted to do it. Like it had been crammed up and wanted to finally stretch its legs. But like an infant that didn't know how to go to sleep, what his body wanted and what his brain told him were at odds.

After what felt like a long, exhausting time, and was actually very little time at all, he felt something give. He suddenly knew which way to "flex" as it were, and once he had momentum, the oddest but unreal sensation came over him.

He could not have told you what it felt like. It was unique, undescribable. He could tell you that being a Bat felt very small, and very light and very freeing. But he could not for the life of him describe what the process felt like.

The third time he had done it, and come back, he lay back in his chair with his head back. His mind swimming and feeling slightly nauseous and giddy. This changed everything. He could fly, he could fit into tiny, tiny spaces, he would be all but undetectable to the average onlooker.

He could fly

Asali would be proud, or so he hoped.

Dean thanked Luis profusely, and asked if there was anything he could do to return the favor.

"Well done," Luis says in regards to your transformation.

"Yes," he says in regards to returning the favor. "Hold for rainy night."

And then he asks "Plan, visit Mexico?"

Dean shook his head. "No, no plan. Mi familia, they will look for me. Maybe if they know I am down here, they will stop looking." he explained.

People, including young American Tourists, disappeared all the time down here. If things worked out, as sad as it was, the Dean they had known would just be another one of them.

"You have suggestions?"

"For go away," Luis asks. "Perhaps. No body. Your things. Too much your blood. Abandoned room. Must you dead."

Dean thinks about the proposal for about thirty seconds before he nods and breaks into a faint smile. "That would probably work great. I can ditch most of my stuff there, leave bunch of blood and mess the place up, then bail. There should be a report on file and then...I'm in the wind." he crossed his arms.

"I'm going to lose a bunch of blood, aren't I?"

"Yes," Luis says. "Must Feed much."

Despite how tired Dean feels from the intense lesson, he is surprised to find that they have plenty of evening left.

"Well...I suppose I can try it tonight. Any good places around here you would recommend hunting? Some place that will not piss off the locals?"

"Need permission," Luis says. "Let's check." He gets an old cell phone out of his pocket. Pre smartphone. And flips it open. He makes a call and speaks in Spanish for a while. Soon he closes it and returns it to his pocket. "Now wait."

About an hour later, Luis's phone ringed and he quickly picked it up and spoke in Spanish for a little while before hanging up.

"Need talk Baron," he says to you. "Go now. Ready?"
This message was last edited by the GM at 20:51, Fri 17 Jan 2020.

Both of you leave his home and at his direction transform into bats. You fly for about half an hour to a mountainside hacienda patrolled by a few Mexican ghouls. As you returned to your native vampire form, you were led inside.

It was a restaurant. Right now with only one patron enjoying the food.

He bowed slightly and introduced you to the Baron of Tijuana.

"So," the Baron started looking at you. "Our northern neighbors have need of our aid. How can we help you?"

Dean bowed when Luis did. The young Vampire had no idea what was "normal" in this situation, but he figured a Baron was a Baron no matter which city you were in, and it would be best to not insult them. The fact that he spoke English also helped his case.

"Thank you for seeing me sir. I've come down from San Diego, I'm a new addition, and so I'm still trying to tie up loose ends back home. With your permission, I would like to stay for a night or two, make arrangements to make it seem like I've disappeared, and then head back north." he explained humbly. "I would also like permission to feed somewhere out of the way, if it's not too much trouble."

"We can help you with that," the Baron said. "From what I understand your plan requires a lot of blood. Your blood. And a lot of local blood to replenish what you have lost. Is that correct?"

Dean nodded. The Baron had been well informed. "Yes sir, one of the plans Louis and I talked about was basically faking a robbery at a hotel, and leaving behind a lot of my blood." Dean confirmed.

"We can make that happen," the Baron said. "With supervision of course. I can't have you running around on your own attempting a plan of that scope."

"I would appreciate the help Sir, thank you." Dean replied, and answered any questions the man had concerning what he was trying to accomplish.

Dean assumed in a way that they must have to do this thing on a regular basis if newer Vampires all required this sort of thing

"It will take some time," the Baron said. "You should establish your cover so that people will have the chance to interact with you before you come to your terrible end."

That made sense to Dean. The police would still investigate, and a murder was a murder after all, even a gringo college kid in TJ. He found it was easier to look at it from this angle, the planning aspect, like putting on a show or playing a prank. The reality was that his family would, if everything went according to plan, be told that he was missing and presumed dead. It would devastate them, but, what else could he do?

He had to cut ties, or there was a real chance that he would actually end up dead. Well, more dead than he already was. It was first first time that he had considered however that in a real way, their child was now immortal. If only he could give them some small comfort in that.

He discussed his plan for hitting the local bars that catered to just his demographic, flashing around a little cash, drinking a little too much. This would require even more blood to pull off convincingly, as he would have a lot of eyes on him. Hell, he stood out at the best of times.

Then, when the scene was set, he would make use of the Schimba art that Louis had generously instructed him in to make his escape back north. He could just imagine the reaction of the cleaning staff when they would find the mess...

Dean, Luis, and the Baron discussed his plan until it was approved, which didn't take very long. And then they called a taxi for Dean so that he could set his plan in motion. You took the taxi to a place called Dandy del Sur in downtown Tijuana. The decor was worn in, the lighting dim, the ambiance charming, and the alcohol was strong and cheap. There were plenty of Mexicans and Americans both, but no one occupied as much space as you did. And your size did turn some heads.

There was some irony in the fact that Dean had never been much of a drinker, or much for parties in any case. His Coach, and the associated nutritionist, had placed him on a very strict diet years ago. One that did not include any alcohol.

So it took him a little bit to get into the flow of things. He started with some margaritas, paid in cash, and chatted up a few of the other Americans at the bar with some awkward "How's it goin?" and "Where did you come in from?" sort of lines. The fact that he was alone made it seem all the stranger.

Part of him missed Abe, and Jack and Tom. He definitely missed Asali, and even Ha-yoon. He still carried her number, although she was little more than ask in the wind now.

Still, he had a job to do, and freshly fed in order to blend in and process the alcohol, he could not help but loosen up a little bit. He just had to watch himself, it would not be a good thing to get too drunk down here.

So Dean started to drink, throwing money around, and talking to the other Americans. They turned out to be from a few different places, San Diego, obviously, but also Las Vegas, Nashville, and Minneapolis. And they all seemed to be here to do what Dean was pretending to do. Party. The guy from Nashville was with a decent looking Mexicana, but since you returned to California you had been surrounded by better-looking women, some of them now dead.

The Americans chatted with Dean, responded to his questions and asked their own in return. It was going great for them, especially the Nashville guy, who was the first to leave, taking the woman with him.