I work (sorry, worked) for Internet Marketing company in Manhattan. Back before it mattered whether we made money or not, we used to do the kinds of things V was talking about. But considering we never did any of it right, we went back to just working with pretty pictures about fourteen months ago. More over, I had taken a certain pride in having never condoned nor been involved with an Internet Startup, a pride that V quickly destroyed.

There is a certain level of horseshit the world can tolerate. Startups decreased that level exponentially and left the rest of us to have to actually accomplish something in business. Which meant work. Which meant having to know what your were doing. Which meant a lot of people ended up on the streets. V was sealing a fate worse then death for me.

My right nut told me so.

The next few months came apart like the Hindenburg at 12 frames per seconds. V did not (as I secretly knew he wouldn't) kill my nemesis. He had in fact gone over to his apartment that first night. He had in fact intended to kill him. He had in fact told him the reasons why.

That was the problem.

Seems my Nemesis had a few thoughts about V's business model. Told him it was outdated and leveraged too much from advertising sales without fostering other streams of revenue. He was right, the bastard. But that was no reason to tell him. When V came back and told me my nemesis would be on board with us for a while, as a mentor, my right nut hurt straight until dawn. V said he had all the time in the world to kill that man but wanted him around to keep my head in the game.

And my nut in a sling.

Things got worse. Two weeks later my boss hauled me in and promptly fired me. Seems someone (Read V or nemesis. Never found out) had tipped her off that I was moonlighting for a startup. I was going to lay it out on the table for her, the whole twisted pretzel, but she had affidavits, employment records, and an offer I had apparently accepted. Every signature looked reasonably like mine so I just grimaced and asked about my severance. She told me they don't pay severance to greedy monkeys. That hurt. I told her all I wanted to do was kill somebody and since I couldn't get that here, I had to look elsewhere. That shut her up and I got my severance.

Then came the second mortgage of my place in the West End. That one looked exactly like my signature and since V had done it all via the net and over the telephone I was screwed. That one pissed me off. As far as I knew then, Vampires always had money and mansions and stuff. If it was strictly a liability issue then I could understand, but V didn't look like he had a dime. So I asked him one night, "What's the deal V? Are you going to bleed me of everything?"

"Bleed you? Are you nuts? Maybe you should get a blood test pal cause from where I'm standing you got Hemochromatosis and enough iron in your blood cast a cannon ball with."

"I mean money, asshole. Bleed me of money."

V didn't like that one. He did one of his "gestures" again and the next thing I knew I was hanging tits down from the top the building. That one cost me my lunch.

"Look chum." He said after he reeled me in. "Before you happened along I was working the graveyard packing boxes for Amazon in Jersey. Jersey, chum. That's pretty low for someone who's, you know, immortal. The twentieth century's been a bitch. It's not like you can take some dead baby's birth certificate and that's that for seventy years. You people are more tightly corralled and collared then cattle. Shit, sometimes I wish the Black Death would come back, and trust me those were some grim years. That's how bad the Twentieth Century's been."