Consciousness slammed into his head like a brick wall, his daytime sleep shattered in a single moment.  It took a few moments to get his bearings- and to realize that his arms and legs were bound tightly to a chair, by heavy chains.  He recognized the one sitting beside him, the large one, part of this city's Sabbat, the ones who he's aiding against the Camerilla.  In takes a moment to garner the proper focus, but soon the power of his Auspex flows into his senses, and the room takes on a new light.  It is a small room, brick walls.  Small brazers with fire around them light it just barely enough.  He becomes acutely aware of the pain his chest, which soon heals and closes.  It smells like dirt- but there are two humans there.  He'd been staked.
It took him until just now to realize that he'd gone to sleep in his impromptu haven.  And now he'd woken up somewhere else.
“Where the fuck are we?”  The big one, Johnathon, he thinks his name is, speaks.  Gabriel is silent for now, although his fury is just short of breaking free.  He struggles to break the chains, but is soon held back.  It is then the first human speaks.  He's dressed up like a punk, a goth rocker out of the 80's (the 1980s, not the 1880s, or even the 1780s, days he still recalls with an eerie clarity), yet his voice is strangely clear, almost proper in the way he speaks.
“Good evening.  I'm glad that you two are both okay.”
“Who are you?”  It's the first time Gabriel's spoken the evening.  “And where are we?”
“Where are you?  You're safe from the sun.  We've... saved you, you might say.”  The human smiled and bowed forward.  “My name is Richard, and my companion here is Michael.”
“You saved us?”
“Of course, you see-”  Johnathon cut him off.
“Why don't you let us out of these chains then, if you're so bent on making us happy.”  Richard chuckled, although a little nervously.
“Well, you see, we have no guarantee that you wouldn't simply stand up and attack us, and send my head from my shoulders.  We'll let you go, after we've said our piece.  We haven't harmed you, and just ask you let us speak.”  Gabriel sighed.
“You have to forgive my friend here.  Now, I'm quite hungry, and this is rather uncomfortable.  Why don't you unchain us and give us something to eat, and we'll listen.  I'd love nothing more than to watch you writhe while I peel your flesh off one layer at a time,” that brought a shiver to Richard's body, “but as it stands, I just want to feed.  You've abducted us, but apparently left us armed and otherwise unharmed.  I'm curious.”
“As I said, we'll let you go right away- once you hear our Master's offer.”
“Your master?”  Johnathon sounded skeptical.
“Yes, his name is Balaam, and he is our master.  We serve him willingly.”  He smiled lightly.  Michael sighed and leaned back, looking at the two Cainites with much more fear than his companion.
“Why doesn't he speak to us himself then?”  Johnathon spat out, the chains creaking for a moment with his effort to break them- but it failed.  Those chains were meant to take a beating.
“Hm.  Just a moment.”  Michael and Richard stepped out, leaving Johnathon and Gabriel tied up in the chains.  Before long, five of them walked in, and began to silently draw a chalk circle on the floor.  Gabriel looked down at the pattern, raising a brow.  It seemed fairly familiar, old and arcane in power, but he couldn't recall more about it than that.  He made a note to check it out later.  They all stood on one side of the pentacle, and Gabriel just laughed.
“Really?  A pentacle?  Could you be more cliché?”  They didn't answer him, and promptly turned and left.  A light wind started to blow in the room, the flames in the brazer's flickering.  There hadn't been a wind before.
Hello.  The voice came from nowhere- yet everywhere.  It had no real source.
“Balaam?” Johnathon asked.
Yes.  I am Balaam- eternal and powerful.
“Why have you brought us here?”  Gabriel snapped out, his patience started to wear thin.
Ah, yes.  You have been chosen because you have potential.  Potential to be greater than you are, and greater than your fellows and fools at the Sabbat.
“No offense meant, Balaam, but why us?  There are plenty of others that could have been chosen.  Those who are stronger, and more skilled, and far more powerful in their gifts.”
A valid question, Gabriel.  I have chosen you two- you in particular -because you are both fairly new to the city.  You have not had time to be... corrupted, as it were, by the ways that the city works.  You do not have the same blind loyalty that the others do, and I believed you to be the most willing to help me.
“Where are you?  I want to see you face to face.”  Johnathon's chains creaked after the question- he failed to break out again.
Face to face?  I can possess one of my followers, if you'd like, and you may see my face if you accept my offer.
“You keep talking about an offer.  What is it you want from us?”  Gabriel asked, looking around  at the room, but even his supernaturally heightened senses found nothing.
I need help from you, if you wish.  The choice will be yours, and you will be free to leave if you do not wish to help me.  For untold times, I was trapped in a prison.  It was dark, and silent.  But now, I have been freed.  I need the support of those of your kind, those who are stronger than most.  Richard will be in to unlock you now.
The door opened, and Richard entered by himself this time, his eyes glazed, looking a bit confused.  He walked over and unlocked their chains, mumbling incoherently under his breath.  Gabriel stood as the heavy chains fell off of him, stretching and rubbing his body lightly where he had been bound.  Johnathon was still getting ready when he turned to Richard.
“My food?”  Richard shrugged, and held out his wrist.  Gabriel smirked, reaching his hand out and took it.  He felt that Richard was human for the most part, but there was something in him, like a small wisp of darkness, that only danced at the edges of his sight- he couldn't focus on it.  He made a note to look at it later and smirked once more.  As he let the power of his sacred art, the most holy art of Valeren, taught to him by Aria, flow through his arm, it sunk into the flesh of Richard.  Fire was Gabriel's default pain of choice, as everyone, both Cainite and human, felt it in the same fear.  Richard began to scream and thrash, attempting to pull out of Gabriel's grasp.  Now that he was trying to run, Gabriel savagely dug his fangs into Richard's wrist, letting his warm red vite flow.  No reverence, no ecstasy, no nirvana, only the thrashing of his pain-ridden victim in his grasp, and the thrash of his fangs in his arm.  He felt the warmth spread through his limbs, the pangs of hunger in his stomach vanishing as the red vite cascaded into his gut.  Before too long Richard fell slump, then he let him go, falling to the ground on top of the drawn circle, his skin pale and his wounds leaning only the smallest drops of vite.  Gabriel licked his lips, laughing quietly as he felt the power of the vite flowing into him.
Emptied dry, the body dropped with a satisfying thump.  Gabriel licked his lips of the last of the blood, feeling the warmth of its power flowing through his body from head to toe.
Thank you.  He would have been... troublesome.   That powerful voice echoed around him, looking around, but still seeing no source.  He stepped to the door that the humans had entered from, looking down.  It was pitch black, but with the power of his Auspex augmenting his senses, he could see that it ended at a door at the end.  He turned and dropped to his knees, feeling the body of the now-deceased Richard- nothing of any consequence on him.  He moved the body out of the way then, and took out his camera and snapped a few photos of the circle they had drawn earlier, so that he could make a few more reviews of it later.
By now the big one, Johnathon, was finally standing, looking around and checking his weapon.  Gabe nodded his head at the door, and the hallway that it led to.
“Door at the end.  I'm going to check it out.”  He turned to head out, but the voice of his brother in the Sabbat stopped him.
“Just wait, alright?  We don't know if it's trapped.”
“It's the only way out, I'm going to give it a look.”
“Stop!”  Gabriel was a few steps down the hall at the barked order.  He turned and met the gaze for a few moments before turning his head, clicking his teeth and crossing his arms, waiting.  “Tch.”
It took a few minutes for Johnathon to get all ready, but soon enough they were heading down the end of the corridor.  There was a strong, sturdy wooden door, and Gabriel couldn't help but admire it's craftsmanship.  This was likely done pre-colonization and brought over, by the quality of the work.  Before he could even comment about it, Johnathon was slamming against it in an attempt to break it- and failing.  Both of the ornately decorated handles were locked, and there was a spot where the key could go- but no key was found.
Try his stomach.   Gabriel blinked for a minute and then started to smile, turning around and pulling a scalpel from his pocket, the gleaming small blade twirling between his fingers.  He smiled, only wishing that he could have done this when Richard was still alive.  Male screams were nowhere near as satisfying to him as female screams, but the terror and pain were felt the same by both sexes.  He hummed a quiet tune, a small town song lost to the decades, under is breath as he sliced with perfectly surgical precision into Richard's middle, slicing down.  Little blood fell out- as most of it was inside of Gabriel now.
He walked back down the hall a few minutes later, his bare hands covered in blood and organ juices.  He held out two items to Johnathon, a small key and a SIM card.  Gabriel raised it up and looked at it a bit, raising a brow.
“This- it goes into cell phones, right?”  The two hundred year old didn't do well with technology.  It had taken him a good month to figure out how to work the camera he'd gotten, but when photos of such clarity of his torture was available to him, he wanted to revel in it as much as he could.  Johnathon grabbed both of the items from him, first sliding the SIM card into his phone.  When nothing happened, he handed it to Gabriel.
“Put it in your phone.”
“How?”  There was more irritation than confusion in Gabriel's word.  Why did this technology have to be so damned infuriating.  Johnathon growled and grabbed his phone and the card, and again nothing happened.  He gave both back to Gabriel, and carefully opened the door.  Inside was an intersection, two equally ornate doors standing to their left and their right.
“So, left or right?” Gabriel turned, arms crossed, and leveled his gaze at Johnathon.  Johnathon was silent, annoyingly silent, for a long time.
“Balaam.”  He spoke, the name and nothing more.
What is it?
“Which way do you want us to go?”  Johnathon asked.  Gabriel raised a brow and chuckled lightly.  Wow.  Way to be straight forward.
To the right, you can leave here without being harassed or hunted, without being penalized or bothered again.  You can return to your ignorance, to the dark bleak existence of your ignorant unlife, and never be bothered by me and mine again.  If you go to the left, you will go down the pit of the rabbit hole, and see just how far and deep it runs.
“Through the Looking Glass.  A classic.”  Gabriel said with appreciation.
“Red pill or blue pill, eh, Morpheus?”  Johnathon's comment seemed to bring a smug laugh to his lips.  Gabriel just didn't get it.  Balaam was silent.  Gabriel smirked with contentment when Johnathon turned and went to the door to the left; he would have gone to that door alone if Johnathon hadn't decided to.  When the large wooden doors creaked open, he was greeted with a sight that he certainly didn't expect to see.
Inside was not a demonic summoning chamber or a large center of decadence and sin.  Instead, it was a calm, quiet building looking a good deal like a church.  There were people standing around and talking, looking around, some kneeling in the pews and praying.  It was lit by a few candles around, but there were no windows, confirming Gabriel's suspicion that they were in some sort of underground facility.
Johnathon broke off from him and knelt down next to one of the people and began conversing quietly.  Gabriel, instead, moved to the front of the impromptu church, where a beautiful tapestry was placed.  It was something straight out of the antiquities, a large tapestry depicting an angel with a flaming sword, standing on top the destroyed remains of the city.  Even using his Auspex to augment his sight to it's pinnacle, Gabriel couldn't tell how old it was, or who made it.  He could tell, though, that there was no way something as old as it was should be in such good shape.  His eyes moved down to the destruction at the angel's feet.
“Sodom and Gamura?”
No, that was not I, though I would like to have laid credit to that work of art.
“Hm.”  Gabriel looked up and down the painting.  “You're pretty old.  Why do you need our help, and how were you so imprisoned?”
I am born from the deepest parts of the Abyss.  I have existed as long as it has.  When I was young, I was locked away, speaking only through limited means.  Not too long ago, I was freed, and took on a servant.  But he left and corrupted, and in an attempt to bind me to his will, set me truly free.  However, my power has waned over time, especially in this new world.  I need agents, those who are willing to serve me in exchange for certain protections.   Gabriel was silent for a few moments, eyes closed as he spoke.  The Abyss rung a bell in Gabriel's head, but he couldn't quite place it at the moment, so he let it go.
“Balaam.  What do you know of Caine?”  He asked simply, wondering where Balaam's loyalties lied in terms of the Cainite society.  If he stood with the Camerilla- then this meeting was over, and none of these people inside would live the night.
Caine.  He was wild and foolish, yet at the same time all the more necessary.  Imagine the impact that he made, the concept that one could kill one's brother.  He brought death into the world, yet is forced into endless night.  I do not know where he is, only that his vengeance will be swift and powerful when he awakes against those who have wronged him.   Sabbat, or at least close enough.  Gabriel smiled, leaning his head back a bit.
“Balaam.  You have to understand that... I have my doubts about you.  You're strong and powerful, yet you act through us.  You claim to have been here ancient and powerful.  Answer me this question.  What is the name of the person who made me what I am?”  Balaam was silent for a moment, just until Gabriel was about to say something, when he heard that voice once more.
His name eludes me at the moment.  However, what do you make of this?
Gabriel felt nothing for a moment.
Then he felt everything.
It came at him like a brick wall, and whatever he had been expecting, it wasn't this.  Aria.  Samuel.  Lawrence.  Maria.  Nina.  Daniel.  And farther back, names eluding him or simply too much for him to handle.  He stood still as the memories of his sire, and her sire, and his sire, and his sire, and her sire, all the way back to the beginning of his bloodline, flooded his mind.  Some were clearer, the older getting more murky, but still, they were there.  He knew everything about his beloved Aria, and much about her sire Samuel, and still a good deal about Lawrence, sire of Samuel.  It flew back to the first of his particular familial bloodline, back decades, centuries, millennia, even.
He didn't know how much time had passed before the experience ceased, gasping and stumbling forward, gasping for air.  He looked up for a moment, staring at the tapestry.  A sick, joyous, twisted, manic laugh began to pass his lips, a broad smile crossing his features.  He stood up straight and looked up, meeting the gaze of the angel.
“I'll do it.  Whatever you wanted me to do, my power is yours, Balaam.  For what you have given me, I owe you that much.”  He looked down and held his head, laughing and smiling at what he now felt.  At what he now knew.  It would take time to sort things out, but he could already feel the implications rushing through him.  Aria had felt the same way.  She had felt as much attraction to him, as much as a Cainite could have for a mortal, as he had for her unearthly beauty.  That alone was enough for him.
Very well. A young man, looking like Richard, with his style dressed like a 1980s punk, but more clarity and civilization in his eyes, stepped forward, and handed him a few small Polaroids.  In them was depicted a man wearing a bright white suit, surrounded by people with adoration in their eyes.  They had fanatical desires, not like the followers of Balaam.  This man must die.  He is building a church in the city, and is being allowed to move freely by the Camerilla.  I want him destroyed.   Gabriel took the photos and turned to the man who had given them to him.
“Who is this?”  The man answered rather promptly, and almost friendly in manner.
“That is a man who calls himself St. Thomas, although to be a saint you have to do something good, and be dead, but that is beside the point.”  He chuckled a bit.  “He is forming a church.  He has at the least found a small home among the Camerilla, and at worst is advancing their goals actively.”  Gabriel nodded.
“Thank you very much.”
“Welcome.”
Gabriel turned, looking to Johnathon, who seemed content to simply sit, having his own conversation with Balaam.  Gabriel had all he needed- and he knew who he could contact to get more information.  He stopped at the large door and turned.
“Balaam.”
Yes, Gabriel?
“I do not like to sound greedy, but I have two final questions.  Well, a question, and a request.  The first being that out of the city, food is scarce.  Should I need it, am I forbidden from feeding here?”
A good question.  You are free to feed here as you wish, but keep in mind, that if you empty my hall, no one will be here to defend you should you need it.
“Thank you.  And lastly, as you yourself clearly evidenced by brining us here, we are- at least I am in need of a place that I can stay safely during the day, without fear of being found.”
I will have someone contact you before sunrise, and you shall have a place to sleep and be protected.  No one will take you as I took you today while you are under my protection.
“One last thing.”  He looked down, frowning a bit.  “You speak about corruption in the city.  Is there anyone I should make sure that I do not mention our alliance to?”
You may speak of it to those you trust.  I do not believe I have any enemies amongst your salon, but there are few who would help you.
“Thank you, Balaam.  Until next time.”  He turned and left.  As he stepped out, a man held his hand out. Gabriel gave him the SIM card he had taken from Richard's stomach and smiled, watching it put into a small device and handed to him.  “Damn technology.”  He muttered, sliding the PDA into his pocket.  He stepped forward up the long stairwell, and found himself coming out of, ironically enough, a church, located off some small street somewhere.  It was in good condition, and likely held a congregation during the day.  Outside, two cabs awaited.  When Gabriel reached for his pocket, the man just shook his head.
“Been paid for, man.  You just tell me where to go.”  Gabriel nodded and slid into the back of the cab.  “Where to?”
“Just drive.”  Gabriel reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, dialing a secure number that few people got a hold of.  After a few rings, a familiar German voice rung out on the other end.
“Ja?”
“Jonas, it's Gabriel.”
“Ah, hello Gabriel.  What can I help you with?”
“I have a matter of a,” he paused, thinking of the right word, “personal nature, that I would like to discuss with you in person.  Can we meet?”  There were a few seconds of pause before the answer.
“Ja, we may meet.  Please come to...” Jonas gave him an address about ten minutes away.  Gabriel relayed it to the cab driver, and before long, they were there.  The house, to a casual observer, was simply a somewhat ritzy upscale home.  Too a Cainite, it held all the trappings of a heavily secured haven.  Gabriel gave the cab driver an extra tip for his trouble and stepped out.  He knocked at the heavy doors, and after a few moments, they opened, the calm face of Jonas greeting him.
“Gabriel, hello my friend.  Please, come in.”  He was dressed, as always, in an impeccable black suit, although in his home it seemed he didn't wear his usual hat.  He had an unlit cigarette in his fingers, as he always did.  Gabriel smiled and nodded, stepping inside, and they took seats opposite a rather nice table.  Gabriel guessed early 15th century.  Two crystal wine glasses were given to them, the sweet scent of wine wafting from the crimson contents within.
“What is it that I can help you with, Gabriel?”  Gabriel, in response, reached into his coat and pulled out the Polaroids, spreading them across the table.  Jonas looked down on them, and much to Gabriel's surprise, simply let a small smile come to his lips as he lit the cigarette.
“So, you have been to the chapel.”
“Oh, you know of it? Yes, I do.  Our,” he paused, “mutual friend has given me a great gift.  Much beyond what I had asked him for, a small display of his proposed powers.  He requested my aid in taking this man, Thomas, down.  He has an alliance of sorts with the Camerilla, at best, they are letting him coexist.  At worst, they have an active alliance.”
“Ja.  I know of this Thomas, and have been working towards his end myself.”
“Through our mutual friend?”
“Balaam is a tricky being.  However, my interest in Thomas is rather personal.  You see, he is my childer.”  That was not something Gabriel was expecting.  He didn't know just how long Jonas had been a Cainite, but he always seemed to have a connection or something up his sleeve.  Either his age dwarfed Gabriel's two and a half centuries, or he was much more active.  Or both.
“You sired a childer, Jonas?  You didn't seem the type.”
“Yes, you see, my pack, the White Wolf, we carry our names through our childer.  I am the second to carry the name of Jonas in my pack, and Thomas was to be the third.  However, as he came to know the powers that he could gain from the Abyss-”  He was cut off by Gabriel.
“Balaam.  He said he was a denizen of the Abyss.  He has close ties to the Lasombra and the art of Obtenabration, doesn't he.”
“You are very observant, Gabriel, and are also very correct.  We do not know terribly much about Balaam, but that he has ties to our powers, and as far as we can tell, seems to ally his interests mostly with the Sabbat.”
“He did mention the Abyss, but I couldn't quite place it.”
“Yes.  Well, as I had been saying.  Thomas, who was to be the third Jonas, took the powers of the Abyss and,” he tapped his chin, “corrupted them even farther.  He somehow took the powers of shadows and made them into a perversion of light.  He uses lights, as the Lasombra do shadow.”
“I remember you and the others speaking about him at Frederico's haven.”
“Yes.  Thomas, my childer, who I thought was dead until recently.  He must be found, and I will find out how he survived, and punish him for this, and bring him into the final death.  In this interest, I ally myself with Balaam.”  Gabriel held his hand out with a smile.  One not of joy or real friendship, but of a man who has found an ally out of what had once been a mere friend.
“My strength is yours, Jonas.  We Salubri are very few, and I do not believe they will be prepared for the things I can do.”  Jonas reached out and took his hand firmly.  Gabriel felt a strangeness in Jonas through his Valeren.  He had been in combat recently, and he just noticed the scar resting across his cheek.  Nothing he could do though.
“Well, my friend, as good as it is to speak with you, I have things that require my attention.  You understand, of course.”  Gabriel nodded and stood.  “My resources are at your disposal in this endeavor, Gabriel.  Use them wisely, and use them well.”
“Of course, Jonas.  I will help bring Thomas down and destroy them.  For our mutual friend, and because I owe you for your favors in the past.”
“Done in good faith to a good friend.  Good evening, Gabriel.”
“Good evening, Jonas.”
Later, after meeting with the Sabbat, after finding that the Archdiocese of Philadelphia had annexed them in an effort to retake Harrisburg, after watching Obertus forced from the city, and reluctantly giving Lieutenant Striker the location of his new, secure haven, Gabriel went to that place.  He admired the decorations that had been placed in it, and noted that many things from his times and frequented places had been brought or provided.  Medical books lined the shelves, and fresh rounds for his revolver had been stored amongst other surgical tools, some less benign than others.
He found the coffin that would be his bed, and secure in his faith in Balaam's word of his security closed his eyes, and dreamed of the unlives before his, that made him what he was, and the secrets that they held.