Filth Angel

It’s an odd distinction to say “Saxha Vykos tried to kill me.” Actually, most Sabbat know that Sascha Vykos rarely tries killing a mortal. If it wanted you dead, you’d be dead; otherwise Sxha is just torturing you. In fact, in Andy’s case, Sascha did kill him. Andy just can’t admit it yet. Andy Jefiies was a typical gringo tourist stereotype in Mexico City on a group excursion with friends.

He’d heard about the high crime rate and dangerous streets, but his badge of invulnerability was his citizenship. He was an American, and nobody fucked with Americans, especially a group of them. Andy and friends acted invulnerable as well, laughing loudly at all the “jobless, lazy spics,” shouldering their way through crowds and being obnoxious wherever they went.

On the tail-end of their Mexico City excursion, Andy and his four friends piled into Feo Ramos’ cab, demanding he take them to a strip club so they could watch “some Mexican whores dance.” Ramos smiled with the gratuitous si, s e w that the five gringos expected from all Mexicans, and deposited them at the communal haven where a hunting party was gathering mortals for an upcoming Blood Feast.

Andy and friends remainedcaged guests of the Sabbat for a week, an ordeal horrifying enough to frighten and cow Andy’s entourage but not Andy. He howled protests and expletives at these “cultist freaks,”and demanded his release as an American. The hunting party might have drained him on the spot, but they wanted to savor his death.

Finally, on the night of the feast, the Sabbat hung all its mortal sacrifices upside-down before slitting their throats one by one. Each victim died at the hands of Sabbat notables in town for the feast, and Andy earned Sascha’s knife. Frightened and at wits end, however, Andy executed his last act of mortal defiance. b c o h BY NIGHT 84 Andy spit in Sascha’s face.

The gathered Sabbat howled and descended upon 4ndy, but Sascha held them back with a gesture. It then 3assed its hand over Andy’s face, burying his mouth, eyes, ?ars, and nose behind a shield of skull-bone and flesh. While Andy twitched and convulsed, suffocating to death, 3ascha told the closest Cainite, “Embrace him.” Andy awoke on a garbage pile, his world dark, silent, and in raging torment.

Jaime and his Filth Angels found 4ndy thrashing about and realized his predicament. Like them, he was a throwaway victim; like them, he was garbage to the outsiders. The Filth Angels held Andy down, then took a lead pipe and cracked open his mouth and eyes. Weak and drained of vitae, Andy had little fight left in him.

He simply accepted the blood they poured down his throat, and wept bloody streaks at his fate. A year has passed since Andy suffered Sascha’s ministrations, and while he doesn’t believe he’s dead, he knows he isn’t living either. Andy has also learned to crack his own face open with a hammer and chisel when he rises at dusk and his shield Df bone and flesh is rejuvenated.

His Vinculi with the Filth Angels prevents him from leaving their landfill despite his contempt for them. Still, that night with Sascha taught Andy something about fear, and he now keeps his opinions to himself lest someone commit a greater atrocity against him. Besides, looking the way he does, Andy knows he has no existence left back home; he’s a freak, and Mexico City is his prison.

Eventually, however, when he learns more about himself and the sect, the formerbully willreemerge, and Jaime,ductusofthe Filth Angels, may have a threat to his leadership. Andy is willing to ingratiate himself to any “white” Cainite. Despite Jaime’s edict against outsiders, Andy has been sneaking out at night, tentatively exploring his surroundings.

That makes him a tool or scapegoat for anyone seeking a dupe, or a potential footman/enforcer if someone recognizes his potential for grunt work.