My Little Ventrue Pt. 06 Ch. 11

Julias pulled out his pistol again, thinking the same thoughts, and Jack mirrored him, no longer having to worry about kine eyes in the empty fire escape. If this were any other situation, the only realistic response would be to hide and wait for support. No kine was worth risking the lives of Kindred over. In fact, the Invictus were likely to punish them for being this stupid, taking on hunters that had proved far more capable than hunters had any right to be. Two Ventrue, formidable, but one of them barely a neonate, and the other far too important to die in a stupid mission like this, were going to face off against half a dozen hunters that had a frustrating habit of nearly killing Jack. They should have found a hiding spot, waited for back up, and secured their own lives.

But, they weren't going to let his mother die. They were going to risk their lives to try and save his mother. Julias hadn't even hesitated. The man was too damn nice. Beatrice was lucky.

The emergency ward wasn't very high up. A couple floors up, and Julias poked his head out the door into the hall. God, it'd be great if they had Natasha with them, or Beatrice, or Damien. Anyone who was good at the Cloak of Night. It wasn't a blood clan unique discipline, it was just that Nosferatu and Mekhet were naturals at it. Jack doubted he'd ever be able to learn it, and Julias had a hundred years under his belt and couldn't use it well.

The lights were soft and gentle. Everything looked subtle, with the ambient light from the weak backup power providing only enough energy to keep things running at minimum. It was good for Kindred, who could see perfectly in low light, and it made Jack feel a little better. Darkness, shadows, his instincts told him to use them, prowl through them, attack from them. But then again, there was light, enough for humans to work by, and more than enough for hunters to shoot at humanoid silhouettes with.

Don't get overconfident. A mistake here meant a world of hurt. His mom could die, or he could die. Worse, he could be captured, and Angela would make sure to not repeat the same mistakes. She'd cut out his eyes, nail him to the floor with giant spikes, and torture him with fire, acid, and... and... He shook out his head, and swallowed down his anger. The anger was caused by his fear, and he'd never forget what Yoda said about fear.

It was chaos in the emergency ward, a strange sort of mayhem. Nurses and doctors and orderlies, but also people in work clothes he didn't recognize. Tradesmen or something, electricians maybe. Everyone was running around, making noise, yelling. Far more panic than an hour ago when he'd been up here.

"Who were they?"

"I don't know!"

"Danna says stay out of their way."

"What if they hurt the patients?"

"Why would they do that? Who the fuck would attack a hospital?"

"I don't know. Just, stay out of their way."

"Where'd they go?"

"East Wing."

"Why?"

"The hell if I know. Danna says someone has already gone to get the police, but with this blackout and all the phones down, we're... we're at their mercy. Just stay out of their way."

A lot of hustle and bustle, people trying to manage emergency checks on all the patients, considering the circumstance. It was impressive none of them were running away. He supposed you had to care about your patients, if you wanted to be a doctor; more so even, if you wanted to be a nurse. The sort of job people got if they cared, and that meant they wouldn't leave the patients to suffer whatever fate awaited them alone.

It meant a lot of bodies, standing around, creating noise, panic, and a lot of eyes looking around for a reason for the insanity. It meant Julias and Jack would have trouble moving around without being mobbed by panicking kine. They could Dominate them, but Dominating hordes of kine would be exhausting. If only they had a Daeva to herd them.

A person in dark blue pants and work shirt, black work boots, and a belt with dangling keys walked by, and Julias reached out to grab him.

"Hey what the fu—"

"Silence," Julias said, closing the door behind them so they were standing in the fire escape stairway. A little eye contact and the man broke instantly. Damn, Jack's sire was good. Even in the best circumstance, it took Jack a few seconds of eye contact to establish the connection, find the mind behind the person's eyes, and grab it.

The tall man blinked, and stared at him, but said nothing.

"Take us to the East Wing. Can you do that?"

"... yes sir." With a slow nod, the man reached for the door, but Julias grabbed his wrist.

"First, how many are there."

"How many, sir?"

"Of the... terrorists." They'd heard six, but no harm in being thorough.

"I didn't see them. It's chaos up here. Everyone's running around, trying to check up on the patients, get answers from security or the chief."

"Where is security?"

"Downstairs. Not equipped to handle something like this. Power going out is bad. Phones and internet out is worse. A bunch of people with guns showing up, on top of that? No one knows what to do, what's going on, and we're running around like headless chickens. If shit—"

Julias put up a hand and shook his head. "We get it. Stay out of the way, and hide if things get ugly."

"Yes sir." The man nodded, devoted to Julias like the vampire was his lieutenant. Julias probably rewrote one of his memories to make him think something like that. A subtle, hidden suggestion, to turn the man into a committed soul, instead of a mindless automaton.

"You're taking us because we need you to tell anyone who gets in our way that we're with the company, doing an emergency check on some equipment since we were in the neighborhood."

Vague, with a hint of authority and Good Samaritan. Combined with their suits, it'd be enough to get anyone out of their way. The man nodded, and soon the three of them were out in the hall.

People were running around, some literally, barking orders and others listening, or questioning loudly. Others were running away from something, and Jack knew what: the East Wing, where his mother slept. The hunters were there already, and no doubt checking each room looking for her, and for them. If one of the nurses or doctors had told them what room Samantha Terry slept in, they'd be there already.

It'd only been five, maybe six minutes since the power went out and the hunters showed up, but it felt like an eternity. The hunters moved fast, knowing full well Dolareido was a city controlled by vampires, and any attempt they made to do anything had to be done quickly. But, how did they expect to get out? The Prince and the Invictus would put two and two together soon enough, and notify the thralls somehow. He'd sent Scully and Mulder for help, and he wasn't the only vampire in the city using animals for communication and surveillance. This was a doomed effort, liable to get the hunters trapped and killed, all for the sake of punishing him.

No, there had to be something else. The hunters wanted him, or Eric, because they'd seen Azamel, knew about her, her place, her defenses. The two of them held valuable information, and were brand new paranormals, too, what the hunters probably considered weak and easy targets. Their mistake. But even so, they wanted the information, and they weren't going to suicide for it. They had a plan to get out.

The gentleman they'd turned into their comrade for the night guided them down the hall. They'd both been down this hall before, to see his mother, and they knew the way. But with the lower light, and the chaos of people scampering around, everything took on an edge. Every corner, every gurney, every counter, every door, all held the possibility a hunter would pop out and blanket the hallway with gunfire; or worse, actual fire. The hunters knew the vampires died to fire easier than dry paper, and they wouldn't hesitate to use it in a tight hallway, Angela especially.

He shivered as the memory of the prison bubbled up. The hallway of fire, the waves of rats, the smell of burning fur and flesh, the screams of the hunter that'd been eaten alive, the sweltering heat. Kindred had a natural pyrophobia, and his experience with the hunters only made it worse. Thankfully no Kindred would judge him for avoiding fire, when all of them avoided it. The elders in particular, never touched it, and let their thralls and ghouls manage their love of candles and braziers.

He had to believe the hunters wouldn't be so psychotic as to go on a murdering spree in a hospital with wayward pyrotechnics. They wanted him, his knowledge, his personal experience with Azamel, and this was a maneuver to get it. Maybe Angela had convinced her fellow hunters that attacking his mother and sister was a necessary evil, to get the Kindred to make a move they could exploit. If his mom hadn't lived, he'd probably be raging through the city right now, screaming and crying and looking for hunters in such an overt manner, that they'd capture him easily. A pissed off enemy was an easily manipulated enemy.

The enslaved kine had to explain that they were here to help on several occasions. It wasn't like Jack and Julias hadn't Dominated these doctors before so they could see his mother unhindered, but those suggestions lasted the night; they could last longer, but no reason to waste the vitae doing so. So it was efficient to use this one man to get them past the onslaught of panicked people wondering about the two guys in suits.

They got to the East Wing without issue. The wing, like the other wings, was a loop, two entrance doorways, with rooms on both the inside and outside wall. His mother was in one of the outside rooms toward the end of the wing, which meant it wouldn't be the first room the hunters would check; if they didn't already know which room she was in. Considering the pace Jack and Julias were moving at, the hunters would probably be arriving at it soon, and that made Jack anxious. Go faster, go faster.

The East Wing hallways were empty, and the entrance to them had nurses and others running past, trying to do what nurses were supposed to do, but they were avoiding the hall. They'd seen the strangers enter it no doubt, and the strangers would have made a show of their guns to scare away the people. It was in the hunters' benefit, he supposed, to scare away everyone. Anyone who stuck around was a possible thrall, and they'd shoot them. Which meant, once Jack and Julias entered the hall, any hunter who spotted them was liable to shoot on sight, without taking the time to recognize them.

For all the hunters knew, no Kindred were even in the hospital, so maybe they weren't expecting anyone to show up. Or did they know Jack had been in here? Did they follow him after he left his sweeper team? Fuck, if they had, and his mom died because of this, he was going to crumble. And then kill them all.

"Who're they?" one of the doctors asked, an older man, standing at the wing's entrance.

"With the company, checking out some equipment to make sure things are working."

"You... can't go in there. Those people, they had guns, and they weren't playing around. We... we have to say out of their way."

"Derek, look, these two men here are—"

"I said you're not going in there." The doctor got in front of the wing, glared up at Julias, and glared down at Jack. "They could kill some of the patients. We have to save as many people as possible, even if that means letting these... terrorists, do what they want."

It must have been a tough pill to swallow. The man wanted to help these people, but by trying to stop the hunters, all he'd accomplish would be getting more people hurt. Being brave, being heroic, it got people killed and usually not much more.

It was common advice for people that were under risk of being captured, that they should do everything they could to not antagonize their capturer, while still holding secret the relevant information. As much as the movies liked to make a thing out of being badass, and spitting in the face of your torturer, reality was far less kind to such stupidity. It didn't take much to break a man, and anyone who knew a thing or two about the nerve endings in teeth could make the most hardened veteran spill their guts.

Julias put up a hand, and drew the chief's eyes to his. There was a snap of urgency to the movement, and Jack fidgeted in place. No time. They didn't have time. Get out of the way now, before his mom died. And if she died because of this delay, he'd—

No. Stop it. Get a grip, calm down, and understand the situation. This was good. Julias was being logical, and handling the situation in a way that'd have the least fallout. If Jack and Julias started waving their guns around, it might have started a riot or stampede, or worse.

"Mister Bronson," Julias said, glancing at the doctor's name tag, "keep everyone away from the East Wing, and make sure no one comes to inspect the area when gunfire starts. The patients will not be harmed."

"I... I will... keep everyone away from the East Wing."

"Right now."

"Right now. Ok people! Let's get out of here! Come on, everyone into the break room. Equipment's working and no one's coding." The doctor began waving his hands, and the cluster of people started to move in the guided direction. If it were the middle of the day, there'd be twice as many people, and it'd be hell to manage. But Julias found the right people, and manipulated them in the right way, to get a chaotic situation under control, and he probably could have even if there'd been a riot with twice the people. Decision-making finesse.

That was the regal side of Ventrue. To stand there in the face of a horde, and make decisions that garnered the best outcome, with all the pressures of the world and a thousand voices screaming at you. Viktor and Julias had that air to them, and both would look perfectly at home on thrones.

"Alright, you get out of here too," Julias said to the first enslaved man.

The kine nodded, and ran back to the hallway where they'd found him, back into the throngs of chaos. Jack and Julias both readied their pistols, and began the slow crawl into the hall, before his sire turned his head, smirked, and flicked several switches on the wall in the main room where the two hall entrances connected. The hallway went dark, lit only by the small amount of light in each patient's room, and what came from the staff area behind them.

It was a strange situation. The hospital staff wanted to go into the hallway, but were under orders to stay out of the way of the thugs who showed up with guns. Jack looked over his shoulder, and grimaced as he found the staff watching the two of them enter the darkness. They looked terrified, but not for themselves, for the patients. They sighed, downtrodden, and walked away, disappearing into their staff rooms, looking into the black hallway where the insanity was occurring. He half expected one of them to run up to him and try and stop his intrusion, in some mindless attempt to stop a stranger from entering a secure ward. One of them might try and play hero, run into the inevitable fight between the hunters and him, and they'd get themselves killed, like an idiot.

Put yourself in their shoes, Jack. You haven't been doing that much lately, with anyone, trying to think what you'd do in their situation. You used to try and do that a lot, but since Angela hurt you, you've considered everyone an enemy.

Every reflex he had screamed at him to ignore the quiet little voice in his head, but apparently it had a point to make, and it started knocking on his skull louder.

You haven't tried putting yourself into the shoes of these hunters, either. They have motivations, and they're good ones. Killing monsters? Saving people from enslavement? From the fangs of literal undead? Who wouldn't consider that a good motivation? Maybe, if you could just talk to them, they might—

No. The hunters had lost every right they had to be considered anything more than meat to be butchered. If he got his hands on them, he'd put them on hooks and let them dangle until they bled to death, skin ripping and muscle tearing.

He shook out his head again, and kept walking into the darkness. His mind was grasping at straws, trying to find ways to make him back out of this kill-kill attitude. Something in him was telling him these kine weren't important, just blood bags to be drained. Something in him was telling him his mother was to be protected, because she was a potential child of the night, and the other kine were not important. Something in his guts was telling him the hunters were not only just as worthless as other kine, beneath respect, but that they were revolting, and deserved to be wiped out. Exterminated. The world should be cleansed of them, so he would be allowed to live eternal with his army of thralls, ghouls, and his territory, filled with sheep to feed on.

He shook his head again, harder, enough to draw Julias's eyes. Shrugging, Jack held his pistol up, and motioned for him to go first, which earned an eye roll from the man. But, Julias knew, just as Julias knew Jack knew, that Julias had to be the one to go first. The man could soak a bullet better than him, as long as one didn't blow his brain to smithereens.

The hallway grew silent as the group of hospital workers behind them began to disperse. Hiding themselves in their break rooms and whatnot, their voices, footsteps, and breathing became a quiet hum in the background, allowing Jack to focus his hearing on the darkness before him. The emergency ward, where everyone was in critical condition and under constant monitoring, was quiet. He didn't know if it had sub sections, if there was something below 'critical emergency' where they'd move his mother if she stabilized, but it hadn't even been forty-eight hours since she'd been stabbed, so here she stayed. Other kine in other rooms with similar problems were sleeping, dying, recovering, and were likely all asleep, coma or drug induced. The ward was silent as fuck, the distant background noise fading into nothingness as he focused on the hallway.

What was that line? Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death? A dark hallway, with rooms on its sides, many with dying patients, fit that description better than he'd like.