The Becoming

It was the summer of 1998 and I was not a happy camper.

See, I started my PhD in 1996, putting together a great project to go hunt for the giant snakes rumoured to live in Kazakhstan. But the master of my universe, Prof. Dr. Nikolai Orlov, talked me out of it, mainly because the research would involve several trips, which meant I had to find extra money, and the possible political complications... It was a good idea, but basically not workable.

That's when I ran into the amiable doctor Eugeny Cherlenok of the department of Stone Age Archaeaology. He was involved in organising digs in Krasnodar and they were looking for a cheap snake expert to help protect their project and their volunteers from snakebites. And everybody knows there's nothing cheaper than a PhD student! It was a match made in heaven, me clearing out their digs and in the off time working on my own research on the endemic vipers.

Side note: when I was anchored in this research near Gelendzhik, Orlov (that scumbag bastard *kehpfooey!*) went off to Kazakhstan, recycling my denied project. And only just yesterday I've seen that he's recycled my viper research too! Orlov's viper? WTF, that should be Moroshkina's viper! I saw it first, damn him.
Oooooo, if at anytime I pass through Saint-Petersburg he's going to get a visit he won't soon forget!!

Anyway, along came that fated summer of 1998, where Cherlenok and me and some of the others went up to Dzhubga (that's near Tuapse, at the Black Sea coast) to check out a potential new dig site. But a minor crisis called Eugeny and the other Stone Age nerds back to the main camp, while I would hold the fort for two days. And that's when he came, didn't he.

Some say vampires choose their soon to be childe based on their potential, their affinity with or their usefulness for the clan. So you see how a Parkour-crazy snake-loving city rat like me is the least likely suspect to become the newest member to the animal and muddy nature loving Gangrel. What the hell was he thinking?

But then, reason is not what comes to mind when speaking of Koldan Matveyevich Chernov. Tall, black and still quite human-faced for a Gangrel, Koldan's also very violent and capricious. At times it seemed he forgot I even existed. One moment he'd suddenly appear and kindly and patiently teach me the things a newly fanged vampire needs to know, the next he'd be beating the shit out of me for being too nosey. It's actaully quite a feat that I managed to learn what I did of Gangrel powers. But most things I picked up from hanging with Koldan's entourage, the Others.

No, that capital ain't a typo. These things were not vampire, not ghoul, not immediately some other magical creature like an elemental or something. They were always changing faces and stuff, as if trying to make sense of the new world I suddenly found myself in wasn't difficult enough. They didn't have names, hardly spoke except to hiss when I was doing stupid things. They taught me how to feed and stuff, while Koldan was off being all mysterious, like sitting in front of dolmen and talking with the dead. At least that's what Eugeny had told me about what the dolmen supposedly were: graves with holes in them so the ghost of the known dead could form a bridge between the here and the beyond. Seriously, one day I managed to follow Koldan and spied on him without getting all beaten up. In hindsight it's rather silly of me to think I could have followed him without him knowing. Maybe I'm like a Trojan horse, but no, better not think of such things too hard, Yarochka. There's vamps out here that can read your mind.

Anyways, Koldan, me, the Others, we trek from mountain to mountain, until Krasnodar (the city) comes on the horizon. The plan, so Koldan informs me, is to attack and take over the city, currently under Ventrev control.
I chuckle, because, you know, that's a mission statement, not a plan. "Sure, us and which army?"
"Well, you and me. Ready for this?"
I glance at the Others, who usually stick to the shadows of the forest like it's their home, and go: "WTF?!!!!! Dude, I can hardly find a cow for dinner without help, I think your plan might slightly overestimate my weak and underdeveloped vampire powers."

I hear you laugh? I did say I'm a city rat, didn't I. My inability to figure out where I can find a cow after nightfall and still this blood hunger without the damned things stampeding all over the country side and mooh-ing loudly is an experienced fact, okay? Now fuck off and let end this sad little episode.

Without really waiting for my reply, my crazy ass sire runs off, trusting me to protect his back in an all out attack against nine Ventrev and whatever allies they've got ready. Or maybe trusting me not. Maybe he forgot about me that moment. Or maybe I figure in a different plan of his, one that involves... No, better not think of that.

I figured it was as good a time as any to get the hell back to civilisation, and dashed off cross-country, beelining for Anapa, where I managed to book myself passage on the underground vampire railway to Moskva.

And that's how I ended up in a deserted transhipment area of Moscow, in a wooden box on a disconnected cargo wagon, with little more than the clothes on my back and the money on my bank account.