The One That Handles The Swells


Masquerade: Socialite

Of course I’m like you – wealthy and influential – and it’s conversation that seems to be my trade, sport and gossip, motoring and fashion, a lively anecdote, an old school story that everyone knows. Seemingly idle, seemingly unambitious and supremely comfortable, I’m a comfort to those teetering on the edge of ruin, their secrets looming over them. Of course I’ll save you, we’re chums, aren’t we? I’m not just here to be your friend, I’m here to be your best friend, to support you when things get tough, to stand by you against all foes.

Requiem: Blackmailer

I despise all of them. Every friend I have is false, because every time I get close enough to them to really know them, I see how weak and pathetic they are. Oh sure, they’re fine in their way, some have money, some have beauty, some have power, but in the end all that is worth having will belong to me. The closer they get, the more I take, the more I need.


1847 – Barnett is born in New York City. His parents are unmarried laborers.
1871 – While pretending to be a cousin of the Du Pont family in Kingsport, he is targeted and Embraced by Content Not Found: whitmore, a Carthian Ventrue. Whitmore didn’t get permission from Wainwright, the Invictus Prince of Kingsport, to Embrace, but because he humiliates and makes Whitmore look the fool, he is permitted to continue to exist. He eventually joins the Invictus which protects him.

What exactly do you mean?

I don’t mean anything by it, sir.

You know I have every respect for the true order of things.

The difference between President Harding and a skid row nigger isn’t so huge when you sit where we sit

Where all that matters is the blood underneath.

They taste different, of course.

But they also want to be treated different.

So the Kingsport outfit has one that handles the swells.

The Mayor, the City Council…the Junior League…hell, even the Temperance League.

(Don’t think that irony has passed them by.)

The regular citizens, the jack and jills that kiss each other goodbye in the morning.

And ride the trolley to work…

(or go screw the iceman or whatever it is they do in the day.)

Someone has to keep them reassured.

Keep them thinking that a little rowdiness on a Friday night isn’t a bad thing.

The swells are the ones that keep the rabble in line for us.

They even think it’s their idea!

The swells the gears and wheels of civic responsibility turning.

Businesses, big and small.

Ships coming and going. Commerce and trade.

Keep it all legit.

You know, on the up and up.

And ruin the ones that need to get ruined.

The one that handles the swells is a Ventrue, of course, but their Sire wasn’t an Invictus.

They hated each other almost right away, and they still do.


America's Lacerations JDCorley JDCorley