My Little Ventrue Pt. 06 Ch. 06

"For these sweeps, yeah. Anything else can be negotiated." Laughing, she came up to him, and kissed him. Not the quick sort of kiss she usually did, but something longer, something with some weight to it.

"What was that for?"

"I'm feeling clingy."

"You? Thought only girls got clingy."

Laughing, she shoved him hard enough to send him flying a little further than he expected. He tripped backward and fell onto his bed, bounced a few times, and managed to sit up. She was smiling at him.

"I am a girl!"

"You sure?"

"I got the tits and ass to prove it."

"Pretty sure you put tomboys to shame with your sheer... tomboyness."

"Tash said the same thing. Y'all just intimidated by a confident woman." Queue a confident pose. Except, instead of something feminine, she went full macho bodybuilder pose. A lean and sleek feminine body, with the muscle tone of a warrior queen; and she knew it.

He returned the smile as he stood up, set his hands on her hips, and returned her kiss. Too damn adorable. She held his hips in return, and they kissed for a while. But her Blush of Life was gone, and without renewing saliva, he found he was kissing a dry mouth. She must have realized, cause she laughed as she pushed him away.

"Come on, let's get some food in you, replenish that blood, and let's make some friends."

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He gulped as he stared up at the Xnomina headquarters. A massive corporation, the sort that had surface-level businesses dealing with public-friendly products, and then a shitload of nasty stuff behind curtains. Knowing it was vampires who ran it, it made sense, and made him wonder how many large corporations were actually run by bloodsuckers. Certain movie-making companies, or smartphone-making companies, did the same, and it only made sense they'd be run by vampires.

According to Jessy, Xnomina and Dolareido were pretty nice on the nice-to-evil scale. He could take a little solace in that, at least.

"You know, I was doing pretty decent work bouncing for Bloodlust, keeping an eye and nostril open for hunters. I could—"

"Come on, you pussy. These are the people that pay you. And there a bunch of Kindred here who are actually going to be pretty afraid of you, cause Uratha are deadly fuckers." As if to confirm, she gave him a buddy punch on the shoulder and a nod.

"I'm still a baby, in... what, paranormal years?"

"Ha, yeah some of us call us paranormals."

"So, paranormal years. Not sure I'm as strong as you think I am."

"You kidding me? Christ Eric, when you're in werewolf mode, any Kindred would need to be ancilla just to go toe to toe with you."

"I... guess."

"That's part of the reason it turns me on so much." She sneaked in closer, and put a quick kiss on his cheek. "With my ghouls, it was always so one-sided. But with you? Knowing you're dangerous, and could probably kick my ass if you really went all out?" Shivering, she walked up to the Xnomina door, and she made damn sure to sway her ass with each step. Not finishing the story meant he got to fill in the blanks with his mind, and she knew he'd fill it in with nothing but sex, with how she was shaking her butt.

He felt like a kid again, with all the good and bad that came with.

"I'm still not—" He jerked his head to the side and looked down the street, as a group of people walked up.

Avery. Clara. Arturo. Matthew. Noah. The others he wasn't too familiar with, but if memory served, one of them was Monica. Two more Uratha besides them, whose names he didn't know at all, and he knew their pack had a few more besides them that weren't with them; probably gone to see the Carthians. Seeing them all walk together, wearing typical streetwear he'd expect of Carthians — so Jessy said — was enough to make him stand up straighter, shoulders back, and look like he was intimidating. Animal instinct.

"The fuck you guys doing here?" Jessy said. "We'll come get you, same as before. And—"

"I want to see what sort of gear you're bringing to these hunts," Avery said.

"Bit late, don't you think? Day two of these sweeps."

"Been kind of busy. And enough with the banter, vamp. We're not friends, despite your relationship with the new boy."

Eric snarled. Didn't mean to make that noise, didn't mean to sound like an angry canine, but there it was, a full snarl coming out despite his efforts to keep it down. Worse, his snarl earned return snarls from the pack of dogs looking at him at his mate.

"Way I hear it, you got a boyfriend, too?" Jess said.

Eric pulled his head back at that, and Avery did the same.

"Leave Henry out of this."

"Henry, eh? Seemed like an attractive man, for a human."

Leave it to a vampire to come at you sideways. Wincing, Eric wanted to take a small step back. But he didn't need new animal instincts to know that'd be showing a sign of weakness. Stand tall, be imposing, all that shit that came as natural as breathing.

Just breathe, the moon told him. Breathe, if he wanted to stay in control, and not give into the animal hunger telling him he should get into a fist fight with these fuckers. Breathe, right?

The other wolves were breathing. Deep, slow breaths, each with fists at their sides, each with chest and stomach rising and falling together. It was blatant in the way they glared at Jessy, that they were doing the same thing as him, each breath struggling to keep something inside them contained. That's what it meant to be a werewolf he supposed, to always have something on the edge of your insides, fighting to get out, and you had to stay in control to keep it there.

He took a deep breath, and waited. Much as he didn't want to admit it, a part of him was kind of excited at the idea of getting into a tussle with these wolves. Would they fight as well as he did? How many of them did fighting professionally? He was eager to find out. Fuck, how long had it been since he was actually eager to get into a fight, just for the thrill of a fight, the joy of a fight? His new body, and instincts, seemed to agree with him.

"You seriously going to go after Henry?" Clara said.

"Nah." Shrugging, Jessy turned toward the building, and opened the front door. "Come on in. I'll give the boss a call and tell'em what's going on. Just don't touch anything, you fucking losers." If Jessy was looking for a fight, she was doing a good job.

Sighing, Eric followed in after her. He tried to make it look like he was upset with her for picking a fight and drawing the other werewolves into an aggressive mode, cause if he let her know it was exciting him, he'd only be enabling her. She was crazy enough as was.

Xnomina had, as you'd expect from any rich corporation, a very professional office building, the sort you might suspect of selling prototype nukes, or maybe stolen organs to the rich who wanted to replace kidneys and livers after destroying them with their bad habits. In a word, clean. Too fucking clean. He smelled the air, and got only a small hint of flesh; thralls, probably. In a building where vampires were rampant, all he got was the hint of ash and stagnant air. The black walls struck him odd. Didn't the Prince use black marble? It looked a bit different, but still, was it a vampire thing? The walls might as well have been slabs of black steel, far as his eyes could tell.

"Because," Jessy said into the phone, "we want their help, right?" Rolling her eyes, she covered the receiver, and nodded to the small girl behind the desk at the center of the lobby. She had long black hair, dark skin like Eric's, and was wearing a business suit. "Miss Pol."

"Madam Herrington." She offered a small nod, before she looked over at the rest of them. Compared to the two girls in suits, the rest of them looked like thugs. "Um... hello. Avery, I presume?"

Before she could speak, Jessy waved a hand. "Yeah, I know we shouldn't let them in!" Again, into the phone. "But, it's just the weapons hold. They just want to see what if—"

"To see what we're dealing with," Avery said.

Jessy snarled into the phone with a glance back to the werewolf. "What she said... Ok boss." She motioned for them to follow her, and started down. "Eric's coming with me too... Cause he's a werewolf and has a nose? Besides, give him a chance to prove his worth."

Oh, lovely, arguing with her boss too, about him. Just great.

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~~Damien~~

Damien raised a brow as he watched Isabella get ready. She paid more than a few visits to Hella, a few lockers down the room, and offered her lover a few kisses. Surprisingly, Isabella had on a corset... shirt... thing. It was something out of The Matrix, except a bit less action hero, a bit more exotic dancer. It had sleeves though, black sleeves to go with the black body, and at least those were normal. With suit pants, and a suit jacket over top it, it did look pretty badass, but also sexy. No doubt an aesthetic the Daeva had spent many years cultivating and mastering. Kindred didn't need to breathe, after all. No reason to not wear a ridiculous corset if it made you look good.

She slipped a pistol into her jacket, and one of the larger Invictus knives. And, one of the silver knives that Kindred were still under command to carry. Either a silver knife or some silver ammunition was required. Daeva normally did their fighting with their hands though, so a pistol and two knives did seem a bit overkill.

He looked over to Vicky and Parker, his partners for the sweep. Unless otherwise stated, their teams were permanent until these hunters were dealt with; made sense, so people learned smooth cooperation. He didn't like those two, though. They were the classic example of Kindred who did nothing but indulge in their vices. Lust, gluttony, and sloth if he had to wager a guess. They didn't do much to work their way up the Invictus ladder; or maybe they did, and he was just unaware of it. More reason to not trust them. But at least they were both arming themselves as they were supposed to.

Damien had his own sword that he kept with him, and he also kept one of the larger silver knives with him. A pistol as well to join the mix, in case there was need. He smirked at the memory of shooting Carter in his leg with a silver bullet. Rash, very rash, but Damien had felt a message needed to be sent: the Uratha didn't get to boss the Kindred around. It was a bad time to send that message, considering they were in a different world at the time, at the mercy of spirits and Uratha alike. Still, he was happy to have sent it.

He sighed as he looked Jack's way. The boy was putting on a vest holster, and was considering what weapons to bring. He had a small silver knife tucked in at the rib, and a normal, larger knife at the other side, while above them the two pistol holsters were empty.

"I suggest a fully automatic," Damien said, "and one semi automatic."

"Yeah, I guess. Part of me wonders if I could wield two pistols at once."

"Not if you expect to hit anything smaller than an elephant."

Jack choked on a small laugh, and tried to look Damien in the eye. It didn't last long. "I know. Even with a vampire's hand, shooting a pistol with one hand is tough. Shooting two with two hands would be horrible."

As the boy's eyes drifted down and away before he gazed at the rack of pistols again, Damien forced himself to not stare. Poor Jack. Why was the boy not screaming out in rage? Crying to the sky in pain? Damning the world for its cruelty? Perhaps he was, in his mind, as Damien had predicted; the boy was going to pace circles with his thoughts until he brought himself to ruin. He needed to express his sadness, express his rage, or it would devour him. Fifty years of hiding included fifty years of repressing Damien's own rage, and it was not healthy. More than a few kine had disappeared, victims of Damien's wrath when he was no longer able to control himself. Jack would, no doubt, do the same thing given time.

There was a bubble around the boy, perhaps six feet wide, that everyone refused to enter. The news of his first family was known by everyone, and considering the boy's unheard-of rise to power, it was no wonder everyone was giving him his space. Even Isabella, who wanted to get the boy under her thumb using her feminine wiles, was giving him more space than she would otherwise. Gloria refused to look at Jack for any longer than absolutely necessary.

Every movement the boy made, every action, every word, had a weighted calculation to it, and it set people on edge, like an angry Gangrel. People knew to either give an upset Gangrel their space, or call them out on their aggression. What to do with Jack? No one knew, except to steer clear.

Except, Jack was Damien's friend, and he wanted to help him. How to do that? He hadn't the slightest clue.

The dozen vampires in the room of metal, lockers, racks of weapons and explosives, turned to look to the opening door.

"Jessy." Damien said.

"Sup. I bring guests."

"You... do?" He raised a brow, and blinked. Confusion was replaced with more confusion, as a bunch of werewolves walked into one of their most secure rooms in the buildings, Eric included. "Explain."

"Just want to see what sort of weaponry you got," Avery said. "Calm down." Groaning and shrugging out her shoulders, she managed a nod to Jack — no one else — and looked up to the glass overhang room where the triumvirate were watching. Maria was in there, out of sight, but Michael and Julias both stood by the glass wall, arms folded across their chests, and scowls on their faces. Uh oh.

"That's... understandable, I guess," Damien said. He looked at the pack for Carter; not there, good. Sighing, Damien checked the slide on his pistol, before he moved to leave. But he didn't. Better to watch and see how this interaction went.

More vampires came into the room, looking to update their loadouts, or see what other vampires were doing, maybe get some advice from the older Kindred. Instead, they found the room quite full as a group of big, tough, burly types wandered between the large, open lockers, display blades and guns and explosives.

Clara reached into one locker, and took out a silver knife. "Nice to know you guys trust us."

Jessy yanked it out of her hand and put it back. "We're letting you in here, aren't we?"

"You have enough guns here to go to proper war," Matt said as he walked over to Damien, and leaned against the wall, opposite of the glass overhang. The jolly giant didn't have his usual smile, and when his eyes found Jack, his frown increased.

Did everyone feel for Jack? The kid had made a lot of friends, that was true, but it was strange to see so many people respond to his plight. Would Azamel behave similarly? That would be a sight to behold.

The static of the intercom chiming in was subtle, but enough to silence everyone.

"The Invictus like to be prepared," MacDonald said, leaning forward and hand pressing on a button against the glass wall.

"For a city that likes peace," Avery said as she also grabbed one of the larger silver knives, "you prepare for war like we prepare for the hunt." She gave Jack a glance, perhaps expecting him to chime in.

He didn't. His eyes were downward, and his expression was blank. Everyone expected him to be volatile, or at least emotional and miserable, but that wasn't Jack. Damien knew him well enough by this point to know the boy was pulling into himself. Hopefully Julias and the Prince would be able to help him. Maybe even Damien would be able to help him. How, he had no idea, but maybe.

Jessy showed off some of their weapons to Eric, too, and while she offered Jack a morose glance, she bounced back to her usual spirited self. How the woman managed to stay so happy and energetic, he did not know. A strange similarity between her and Fiona, to be sure.

Jack grabbed two pistols, semi automatics, and grabbed several magazines, one of which was loaded with silver bullets. The extra pistol was redundant, but after what happened in the nightmare, carrying extra pistols was becoming common among the Invictus. The chances you'd use the second one was minimal, but as their trip into the gargoyle's chamber proved, it did occasionally happen where you needed it.

"Ready?" Jack said, looking to Clara, Isabella, and Gloria.

"... yeah." Sighing, Clara followed the small man out of the room, with the other two vampires to follow.

Avery wasn't on any of the Invictus sweeper teams, but she stuck around anyway, watching the various wolves partner up with their appropriate vampires, before leaving the building. It was clear to see the wolves weren't happy about the silver, but that was probably why Avery came, to see what sort of arsenal the Kindred had that would be problematic specifically for Uratha. Now they knew, the Kindred had enough silver to mow down their pack and make sure none of them got back up.

Bold move on the council's part, to let them see that. How desperate were they for their cooperation? Or was it to keep Avery from siding with Garry come some, hopefully avoidable, conflict between them all? A show of good faith to stay on her good side.

He hated these games. He hated the Danse Macabre. He hated how every move anyone made, was laced with extra layers of intent and information gathering. It was sickening. Seeing it as the background for Jack's suffering, how the boy waded through that cesspit as he struggled against his inner demons, would make anyone frustrated. It was a wonder Jack didn't start screaming at people to get out of his way. But, no, the boy kept his eyes down, and slipped past everyone, Clara, Isabella, and Gloria behind him.

Damien, geared and ready for the hunt, nodded to Vicky and Parker, and then Matthew. For a moment, he almost asked the giant man if he wanted a weapon, but he caught himself. When the violence started, Matt would be the first in the fray, and the last thing he'd need was a sword or gun.

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The tunnels once again. Fiona was waiting for them at the entrance, and she hopped in place several times before running over to them.

"Hi!"

"Hello," he said.

She was so beautiful, and radiant, and blinding. It was still difficult to look her in the eyes; not for his antisocial behavior, but because the girl was smiling and vibrating with such joy, it was almost too much to accept.

She took his hand, and held it as they started down the stairs into the tunnels. He gulped. How could she do that so easily? It was physical contact. It wasn't a glance or a nod or a word, or a laugh or chuckle or smile, it was contact. To her, it was as easy as breathing, something Kindred had long lost.

Did he make that comparison before? He must have.

"How's Jack?" she said.

Matt chimed in first. "He looked pretty fucked up. Really got that intense brooding thing going, except, with a hefty dose of sadness. Losing his family is tearing him up."

"Aww!" Fiona let go of Damien's hand, but only so she could put both hands to her chin and lips, as if she was watching a horror scene in a movie. "From the way ye say that, I wonder... Matt, do ye—"

"Yeah, I know what it's like." He shrugged, sniffed the air of the tunnel a few times, and waited for Damien to suggest a direction. "I was just a kid when my family died. Died trekking over some rough terrain, far up North."

"Awwwwwww!" And just like that, she took Matt's hand, and hugged his arm. Which, of course, had Damien questioning everything. Did she touch Damien's hand because she liked him, or was she like that with everyone? Arg, he hated not knowing.

She pat the big guy's arm, and returned to Damien's side. No more touching or hand holding, but she seemed happy to walk only a couple inches from him. Good? Bad?

Damien, you're an idiot. You went on a date. She's probably looking for you to ask her on another date. Then why didn't she ask? Because you're the man. So? Genders have different proclivities, Damien.