Born Dimitrius Sinclair, to Alexander and Michelle Sinclair, on April 22, 1954 - Volt comes, originally, from Detroit Michigan. Devout Roman Catholics themselves, his parents ensured that the young Dimitrius attended mass every Sunday and sent him to a (as his mother termed it) 'proper' Catholic school from the age of 5 on.

Volt hated his school, and learned to rebel early on. His knuckles quickly developed a close familiarity with the nun's rulers. Dimitrius was always one of the biggest kids in school, and frequently bullied the younger children at school. Outside of school he lived his life in a nearly perpetual state of groundedness. By the age of 13 he was already adept at sneaking out of his house, and at killing.

Volt's older sister, Rebekah, used to sneak out of the house at night to see Johnny Franco, quarterback of the local public high school's football team. One night she came back covered in bruises. She didn't sneak out anymore after that. A month later their parents sent her away; she was pregnant.

Young Dimitrius used one of his mother's steak knives; Johnny never even saw his killer. The police found the steak knife, but couldn't match the fingerprints. The killer was never found. Dimitrius never saw his sister again, but he did receive a single post card in the mail, from L.A..

At the age of 17 Dimitrius ran away from home, his parents, and their entire world. He hitched his way across the country to Los Angeles. He got a job at a gas station during the days, and he spent his nights drinking, and searching for Rebekah.

James Kohler never knew his parents, he was born on September 27, 1954 in Simi Valley, California. He spent his early years shuttled between foster families, some abusive but most not. James vented his rage by picking fights with the largest of his foster brothers. Beyond that he was definitely what you could call a 'problem child'.

At the age of 16 he ran away from his most recent set of foster parents, taking with him a healthy supply of food and one of their sleeping bags. He hid in the desert for a while before returning to live in the city.

Veronique Lapierre was born in Slidell, Louisiana on January 17, 1961 at 2:33 am. Her parents spent more time looking for their next score than they did looking after her. She was found abandoned in the St. Louis cemetery - across the river from her birthplace, in New Orleans - at the age of 6 months.

She grew up on the streets of half-a-dozen cities across the Southwest, raised amongst the homeless who found her. By the age of 11 she'd made her way to Los Angeles where she survived by digging what she could out of restaurants' dumpsters and begging on street corners.

Volt and James met, for the first time, at a Fourth of July (1972) party thrown by a mutual acquaintance. They passed the evening in an abandoned warehouse drinking beers, lamenting the difficulties of their youth, and getting one of the street kids who'd shown up drunk. One of the other guys thought it would be funny to try and rape their young friend, but together they easily showed him the error of his thinking. They fell in together, Veronique Lapierre.

James got a job at the same dirty gas station as Volt, and they shared the rent on a small shit-hole of an apartment. Veronique stayed with them - sleeping where there couch would've been could they afford one - as it was far safer than the streets. The three ran together, depending on each other for survival, and generally hanging out with what could be termed 'the wrong crowd'.

James tried to help Volt locate his sister, but they had no more luck together than Volt had had alone. In time reality set in; Volt gave up on ever finding her.

On December 31, 1975 the three went to an Anarchists' Ball being throne in one of the slummier suburbs of Los Angeles, a place the police rarely frequented, the same warehouse where they'd all first met. The party itself was relatively uneventful; Volt got drunk, and so did James. Veronique made sure their wallets didn't get stolen.

Just after midnight a disturbance broke out near the front door. All three turned to look, just in time to see a large bruiser go sailing through the air and smash against the far wall. A panic ensued as everyone attempted to flee, no one knew what was going on, but everyone knew they wanted very badly to be someplace else.

The violence spread as the interlopers made their way into the crowd, and as the fleeing party-goers attempted to either fight back or fight each other to be first to the exit. Volt and James positioned themselves to Veronique's sides and fought their way towards a fire exit. Just as they were almost through the fire door Volt was grabbed from behind; James turned to see his friend vanish back into the crowd. James turned back, and pushed through the fire door with Veronique. He told her to run and hide, then turned to return through the door in search of his friend. James never took a single step, he was struck a blow to the head from above and slumped to the ground.

Volt awakened in a dark alley. A leather clad Mexican with long dirty hair stood over him. A foreign hunger burned in his throat, his stomach, and it seemed in his very soul.

Volt turned his head to the sides, and saw booted feet surrounding him, he lay sprawled on the ground in the middle of what looked like a biker gang. He noticed that the one nearest him was propping up one of the other guys from the party, who seemed to be in worse shape even than Volt.

The Mexican spoke, "My name is Hector, Hector Sosa, and you must be hungry." He glanced at the one holding the unconscious man, "Give it to him."

The body fell limply onto Volt, he wondered what they wanted him to do, but then he smelled it. He'd smelled blood before, he'd been in to many fights not to have, but this smelled different. He looked at the man and saw a small cut on his neck. Thirst consumed Volt, a beastly rage exploded from within him and he bit deeply into the man's neck.

When he finished the body was cold, and he looked up to see the gang still present. Again the Mexican spoke, "Now that you've eaten, it's time you joined the gang." In a blur the Mexican was on him, and Volt felt his arm break, then the others joined in. He fought back as best he could, but was easily beaten down.

Time passed and Volt learned about what he had become. He learned that the Anarchists' Ball had been targeted by both a gang of local Brujah and a group of Gangrel for the purpose of strengthening their numbers in the face of something called the Sabbat that they all feared would come up from Mexico. They spoke of it as though it was some sort of boogeyman.

As soon as he was able Volt looked for Veronique and James. He found that Veronique had made it back to the apartment, but had fled the city sometime afterwards. But no sign could be found of his friend James; Volt was forced to assume that he had died in the party's aftermath.

James came to with a cold wet feeling covering his back. He soon discovered that he was lying in a large patch of mud. He stood and looked around, a full moon shown down from above him, illuminating a thick forest which now surrounded him. There was still a painful lump on the top of his head, and a dazed sensation still filled his head with fog.

At first he thought he must be dreaming, but as the fog slowly lifted from his thoughts he knew he could not be. James looked around at the trees, recognizing them, for the first time, as Sequoia. The huge trees towered over him and the moon was now past apex, casting his forest glen into darkness. How long had he been unconscious? It had to be at least 24 hours, where was he?

A voice came out of the darkness then, saying only a single word, "James." He spun around and saw her standing in a patch of moonlight. Her long black hair reached down her back, and her china-white face seemed to reflect every drop of moonlight that fell upon it. She wore a black leather jacket, and loose jeans. James watched his open wallet fall from her hand into the muck.

She looked him up and down and began walking towards him, "You may call me Raven, and you've seen the last day of the rest of your life." James turned thinking to run, to find Volt and get out of here. A snarl from the darkness halted him in his flight. Silent as snow, three gray wolves paced out of the darkness towards him. He felt two burning pinpricks of pleasure rip into his neck.

He felt his life leave him. James drifted slowly free of his body and turned back to look at it. Seeing it nearby, but covered entirely in a thick fog. The forest seemed more sinister, skeletal trees stood around him now. The wolves were no more than snarling corpses, but Raven remained as lovely and vibrant as before.

James witnessed as Raven produced a claw from her index finger, and slit open her own wrist, placing the font of blood to his dead lips. Suddenly he felt himself violently drawn back towards his body. He fought to resist it, struggled to grab hold of the nearest tree, but succeeded only in breaking off a branch.

James awoke in the coolness of a shallow cave. His throat parched and his stomach strangely empty. He stood and left the cave, wondering still where he was, but thinking that perhaps the woman, the wolves, and the vision of the dead trees were only nightmares. But then, how did he get here? He found a hiking trail, and followed it down the mountain.

James crossed a brook along the way, and tried to quench his parched throat in its cool clear waters. He found that he was unable to keep them down. He did the only thing he could, he continued down the trail. He found a small campsite - it wasn't really the season for camping - and thought to ask for help. But as he approached he felt his thirst overtake him. Rational thought fled him and he ripped into the campers' tent and spilled their blood down his throat.

When reason returned he was horrified at his actions, and worse yet discovered his chest and back now covered with thick hair where both had been smooth before. He remembered his dream about the woman with the wolves, and thought back to the horror movies he saw as a child. He crawled back up to the cave, and stayed there for many nights, until again his thirst became too much for him to bear.

He snuck back down to the campgrounds, and again fed on human blood. This time, though, he was careful not to kill his victims. He did, however, steal their van. He made his way to the interstate, and then slept in the back covered in blankets for the day. He fled the forest, for he could still hear the voices of his first kills echoing amongst the trees, taunting him.

He lived in the wilds, and tried to learn what he was, and of what he was capable. He sometimes thought of returning to L.A. and looking for Volt but he guessed now that the riot at the club was caused by vampires and doubted for his friends survival. He drove around in his stolen van, feeding on whoever he could find at the truck stops. He discovered that he could hear not only the voices of those he killed, but those of all the dead who lingered on after death. They seemed to seek him out, wishing messages returned to their loved ones. He tried to ignore them, but they were so insistent that sometimes he did mail anonymous letters, just to make one of the voices be silent.

James found also that the voices of the dead weren't his only problem, he also received visions of what was to come. He often found himself reliving the same night just as he dreamed it the day before. With time and solitude he learned to gain some measure of control over both abilities.

He was seeking knowledge of the ghosts that haunted him when he first encountered another of his own kind. A strange man who seemed always smiling and laughed too much. The man never revealed his name, and told James only that he was a Malkavian. He taught James that it was within the power of any vampire to see beyond the mortal world, and trained James to focus his senses to a level beyond that available to mortals. James learned of the clans from his mentor, and learned that he himself was most likely Gangrel. Then one day, after several months of traveling together in James's van, the mysterious benefactor simply disappeared.

Finally understanding himself, James set out to return to Los Angeles.

It was March of 1978, and James returned to his old haunts, picking up as best he could with his old friends. He looked for what had become of Veronique, but found nothing. He worried, but some inquiries at the local cemeteries persuaded him that at least neither she, nor Volt, had become a wraith. It didn't mean for certain they were alive, but he was certain if either was dead they would've been the type to linger on.

At first he was careful to avoid the vampires of the city, always going out of town to feed. But he began spending more time delving into research on the dead. He spent all of his available time going though occult shops and speaking with members of local groups, and so had little time to journey out of town to feed anymore. Soon enough some of the local vampires discovered that there was someone poaching on their territory.

The local Brujah confronted the interloper. Volt and James recognized each other instantly, but Volt was unable to keep his sire's gang from beating James and leaving him torpored for the sun to claim. Volt snuck away from the gang later that night, and moved James's unconscious form to safety, attempting to nurse him with a taste of Volt's own blood.

In time James recovered. The two left Los Angeles, and Volt's abusive sire, to search for Veronique. Working together it took them only a few months to track her down to a small apartment in Sacramento. They approached the city carefully, knowing it to be controlled by the Camarilla, some kind of confederation of vampires.

They studied the ways of the Camarilla, and were careful to present themselves before the prince in what seemed the appropriate manner. Relations were tense at first, but the prince was not overly violent and allowed them into his city. They found Veronique's apartment and waited there for her. When she returned they barely recognized her, she'd become a Mod. But she recognized them as neither had changed since the last time they'd all been togther. Finally all three were again united. Volt took Veronique as his ghoul.

They could have left Sacramento then, but instead chose to stay and learn more of what this Camarilla thing was all about. In time they were Acknowledged. After that, while still technically living in Sacramento, the three roamed the Western Seaboard in a large new van. Veronique handled the day driving.

Their tempers got them into a number of brawls up and down the coast, and being imperfectly aware of the concept of a blood bond, James and Volt frequently shared blood to maintain themselves whenever a fight went badly. Volt and James were unaware of the results of this practice until after they had already tasted each other's blood over a half-dozen times, they'd been best of friends for a long time and so never questioned the blood induced deepening of their friendship.

By 1990 it came to their attention that they'd been traveling in the same area, and dealing with the same mortals for a little too long. In order to avoid a bit of trouble involving a mortal blackmailer the three found it necessary to fake their deaths. After dying in a horrible car accident, the three moved to France. They chose Paris; first for the Camarilla presence, and second because Volt studied French in catholic school, and Veronique already spoke fluent Creole.

In Paris Veronique and Volt spent most of their time enjoying the sites and the night life, while James spent his time pouring over books of ancient lore, more often than not with a translation dictionary. Via email he contacted many of the worlds more public occultists, searching for information on something he had encountered in his studies. In some of the books he read it was said that certain vampires had developed a power known as Necromancy which offered power over the wraiths who disturbed his endless nights. He discovered that unlike the Protean of his blood, Necromancy, it seemed came in more than one flavor. These different flavors were called paths, and the one which seemed to offer him the greatest control of his gift was known as the Ash Path.

And so their time in Paris passed uneventfully. In time Volt and James grew weary of the Camarilla and chose to return to Los Angeles in the Fall of 2001. They found the city greatly changed, and found the insurgence of Cathayans problematic, particularly when a powerful group of Cathayans defeated them and left them badly injured and drained of blood in a back alley.

Following their defeat they decided that the Free-States had grown a bit to wild and traveled East in search of safer lands.