On the third day of Feburary, 2004, San Francisco was showered in debris.
A bomb was detonated on the 26th floor of the Transamerica Pyramid. The blast was sufficiently powerful enough to send the entire building careening into the ground, all but snapping the thing in half. And, as far as the mortals of San Francisco and the world beyond was concerned, that was that. A terrorist attack that caused a tragedy, yet another casualty of the War on Terror, forgotten in the endless news cycle of sensationalism: the comfort of a global war, "I'm so glad it's happening over there and not here."
In the shadows, however, this explosion proved to be nothing less than a turning point of the great Jyhad. The Prince of San Francisco was killed — and with him, a good majority of his court. But with nobody to actually blame it upon, it was only natural that the fractuous and insidious natures of the Kindred and the Cainite saw them attempting to blame everyone else except the most likely actual cause. The Camarilla accused the Sabbat, claiming it to be simply another act of wide-spread terrorism in their deranged war. The Sabbat brushed it off, spinning it into a story as to how the Camarilla would betray and backstab each other then attempt to push the blame away. The Anarchs quietly watched as the Kindred would continue flinging suspicion at one another.
Still, an opportunity was an opportunity, and the Sword of Caine is not one to simply let such things go to waste. When the Siege of San Francisco began, it began with an assault that saw nearly half a dozen packs arriving in the city on the first day alone. Described to the mortals as over-enthusiastic looting and fearmongering in the wake of a terrorist attack, the siege was enough to see an enormous power gap form from the resultant chaos; as Cainite struck down Kindred, and fires burned in the wake of the carnage.
Ultimately, however, the Siege was repulsed. Despite initial enthusiasm, the resistance offered combined with the lack of any actual territorial gains, saw besieging Sabbat packs ground down by attrition. Despite the loss of Prince and Court, the surviving Kindred proved to be resilient enough that Sabbati expecting an easy victory were turned away by a defense that had enough ferocity to convince the invading packs to back off — assuming they hadn't already met their Final Deaths.
And so, less than two months later, the Sabbat opted to quit the field. Any packs that had survived were simply left to fend for themselves, with nowhere left to run to.
For the Kindred that remained, however, the question was soon raised as to who would actually now be responsible for the city. In theory, in such a scenario, the Elders of the Inner Council would elect to send someone to take charge, but as the months dragged on, no such response would come. It soon became clear that the Kindred of San Francisco would have to tend to themselves.
To choose their own Prince. To keep their own city under control. To keep their own under scrutiny. In the end, fear is the greatest weapon of the Camarilla, and in the absense of any real response from the greater Sect itself, it is easy to imagine all of the punishments that could be levied. What might possibly happen if the city of San Francisco were to get out of control.
But who would be Prince? Even as the fear of what might happen grows, the realization that nobody is in charge, and that nobody would be coming to take charge, is nothing less than an euphoric fact. A city where anybody could be anyone.
And where anybody, could do anything.
In the end, there will be a Prince. There will be a Sheriff to hold the laws of the court in order. There will be the Primogen to tend to the affairs of their Clan And all of the cogs of the Camarilla will turn. But there will be nobody to say, "this is how it should be" Only those with the will to make it so.