The figure splashed through the puddles that lay deep accross the alley. Neon flickered, reflected in the pools, distorting in the sheens of oil and muck. The man - Montague Blackwood the Third - would have been out of breath, had he had cause to draw breath at any time in the last four years. His suit was spattered with mud, and his hair was dripping rain and sticking to his face, the care it had taken to arrange it that evening wasted. No.....he must have stopped the pursuit by now. Surely the bastard had better things to do. Montague looked back down the alley, peering through the curtain of rain that fell heavy over Vancouver. He lit a cigarette and leaned against a wall. Nothing. He was safe. "Who ya waitin' for, Monty?" The voice had a southern lilt to it...from Louisiana or Georgia. It was anything but friendly. Montague spun round. The fucker had found him. He stared up into the other man's face....broad but unremarkable. He loomed well, thought Montague, before dismissing the thought as irrelevant to his current predicament. How had the bastard caught him? his ferrari had given him a comfortable lead.... "You're not making yourself popular you know Monty." And how dare he refer to his better in such a familiar fashion! "You've overstepped your boundries. Starting a fight in The Inferno was your first mistake. Starting it with a member of my clan was your second, and doing so in MY damned club, in front of all those Kine, was your third. Tell me....do you have a fucking death wish or something?" Shadows had gathered around them. The big Cajun man seemed even more imposing. there was an evil glint behind the sunglasses. Montague felt his will waver, and a cold sweat broke on his forehead. A dribble of Vitae dripped off his temple. he didn't stand a...wait. He knew this game. Disciplines were being employed....well, two could play at that game....look into my eyes you idiot Brujah.... The larger man winced momentarily then grinned. "Trying to dominate me Monty? well...I make that your fourth down and you've come up short by a long way. You know...I talked to our esteemed leader, and he reckons that you've caused more than your share of trouble over the last couple of years and you need teaching a lesson. That was before tonight. Albert will be very interested in this. I had a word in the ear of your sire too. He's sick of your antics too. You've dissappointed him no end. In fact...he's giving up on you....your "sister" just made a breakthrough with the Setite problem you were meant to be dealing with apparently. You're disposable." What was this? This couldn't be.... "Sorry Monty, but for a major violation of the laws of the kindred of Vancouver, it is my duty to introduce you to this fine, hand-crafted piece of British Colombia pine." Montague looked down at the piece of wood that had sprouted suddenly from his chest...then up to the man in front of him....he felt his muscles start to stiffen as the piercing of his heart took effect....and knew that he was doomed.
Mark Raymond Lloyd was born on 26th January 1962, to a lower middle class family. Mark's father was an astute man who knew full well he would never be able to afford to send both his son and daughter - Mark's two year older sister Catherine - to college, so he encouraged them at every oppurtunity to get good at a sport. Catherine was a natural in the pool, and gained a scholarship at Michigan university. Mark developed a love for Football....he was big and fairly fast, and just loved being allowed to hit people and push them around without getting in trouble for it. Mark played Middle Linebacker through High School, and gained a scholarship too, though this one was closer to the family's native New Orleans, being at Baton Rouge's Louisiana State University. Mark started every year for the tigers bar his freshman year, and despite having a temper that boiled over on pitch on occasion, leading to a couple of ejections from games, he was made a fourth round draft choice of the Miami Dolphins in 1984, graduating as his late father had with a degree in Acountancy and Economics. In Miami, Mark had an interesting career. Playing regularly and occasionally starting, but the years were punctuated by fines and penalties. Mark gained a nickname from fans - "Wildside" - and every sack he took was greeted with a playing of the Lou Reed song. Unfortunately, despite his reputation - both good and bad - growing, Mark's career was also full of recurrances of a knee injury he had sustained in his first training camp with the team. He Eventually quit the dolphins when he blew his left anterior cruciate ligaments on the turf of Rich stadium, Buffalo. After the NFL, with a hefty pension, Mark founded and ran a small accountancy in Miami. Two months into his venture he was approched by a man named Cohen, who required someone to help found a new business, and he thought Mark perfectly qualified. Mark listened to the man's talk, and as the man finished outlining his proposal...a merger of some existing groups, mark found himself dazed. Cohen grabbed him while he was stupified, under the influence of the man's presence discipline, and embraced him.
Mark awoke from the embrace to see Cohen sitting accross from him. His initial feeling was one of rage, but he found he could not attack his sire. Cohen had dominated him not too. He explained the reality behind his proposal...the merger of all the kindred of Miami under a single ruling council, chairman and CEO himself. Mark had impressed him with his refusal to back down to anyone - primarily referees - his strength and dedication. Mark was one of several muscle men created as troops for the takeover, if the Ventrue were to object to the take over. Mark reluctantly agreed to this arrangement. Eventually, after much rhetoric from the clearly insane Cohen, the coup was staged, and failed. During the riots incited by Cohen and a couple of other kindred who had followed his lead, most of the new vampires were slaughtered. One night of fire and blood left mark battered and bruised and on the run from the city that had been his home for four years. Knowing only one place else, he went home to New Orleans. Cohen had taught Mark the Camarilla basics, so he knew to report to the Prince of the city. The prince found him first, and had him brought to his office. Mark was not punished for his part in the Miami fracas, as it was revealed that he'd killed only a few oppurtunistic Sabbat. As "Punishment" he was set to investigate a phenomenon of disappearing kindred with a Giovanni investigator named Albert Rosen. Following their success in this Mark and Albert stayed together, realizing they worked well as a partnership. They took over Vancouver from the encumbant ventrue prince, Albert as new Prince and Mark as Primogen of the city's small Brujah contingent. This worked until Albert moved to Venice to sit with the Giovanni ruling 12. Mark was prince for one month before being run out of town. He went to California, where he joined another free state in San Fransisco, where he helped cleanse a sabbat riddled Brujah clan. He stayed as Primogen until the clan was back on it's feet then moved to Venice, to work as a fist for the Giovanni. Venice proved a strange place to exist, Mark and Albert briefly travelling with a Malkavian who had broken the time barrier, during which time Mark committed Legal Diablerie in Victorian London, and gained a ring from the Knights of Silavanius, which masks the scars in his aura. Recently, Mark has been travelling with a misfit band of Gangrel for the Giovanni, after one of their own gone Rogue. At the end of a chase which took them around most of the globe, Mark decided to relocate with Albert back to Vancouver, where he became Sheriff, guarding the laws he helped draft. Mark has spent most of his Unlife a mercenary, and has acquiredf a considerable amount of status, a long contact list, and a wide variety of disciplines. He has had his abilities magically altered in a deadly game of cards, has fought with many varied foes and been to places noone should ever need to go. He is experienced beyond his mere ten years of kindred life, having the power of an elder.