The Good, the Bad, and the Dead
The city seen from the Queensboro Bridge is always the city seen for the first time,
in its first wild promise of all the mystery and beauty in the world.
— F. Scott Fitzgerald
Give me such shows — give me the streets of Manhattan!
— Walt Whitman
Please, enjoy your stay. It’s a beautiful place. Catch a show on Broadway, take Manhattan, gorge yourself on vitae. Hunt in Times Square freely, and rejoice. Take a bite of the Big Apple. But take note, and never forget: this is MY city.
— William Bradley, Prince of New York, 50 years before his Final Death
New York City.
The Big Apple. The Melting Pot. The Empire City. The City That Never Sleeps.
In fact, much like one of the Kindred, the city only truly awakens at night.
New York goes by many names, but ultimately, they all mean the same thing.
Eight and a half million living, breathing, bleeding souls. Five boroughs, three islands, and more wealth and squalor sharing the streets more closely than anywhere else in the country.
Here, one can find passengers on horse-drawn buggies in Times Square riding past wandering bums. Here, living statues on Broadway are poked at by Junkies to see if they’re real. All the world’s in New York…all the Good, the Bad, and the Dead.
And somewhere in there, hiding in their concrete jungle, are the predators. The worms of the Big Apple. Five hundred Kindred. Five hundred predators.
And you’re one of them.
For more than a century, a strong and enigmatic Prince, Bradley, held the Empire city together, transforming New York into the jewel of the Camarilla and one of the Sect’s most prosperous Praxes. But all that changed when he was blasted into Final Death before a gathering of the most powerful Kindred in the city.
Now, the Big Apple is torn apart from the inside, as forces both external and internal try to cut themselves a piece.