My Little Ventrue Pt. 08 Ch. 14

"It does not," Avery barked.

"Ha! Yes it fucking does. It--"

Clara roared, and Jack froze. His limbs froze. His vitae froze. Everything in him froze, as the whole fucking cave echoed with the boom of her roar. Like someone set up a fucking explosion in his damn skull, everything stopped listening to him.

And that included the rats.

The swarms surrounding him scattered, rats being rats, and Jack stood there, staring, dumbfounded. Even as he heard the thud thud thud of someone giant running for his back, he couldn't turn around. What the fuck?

Clara collapsed. Whatever she'd done, it drained her of whatever she had left. On her back on the floor, she panted openly, with only enough energy to hold her bleeding arm socket with her other hand.

He had to admit, she was damn impressive. Course it was hard to stay appreciative, when a giant werewolf pounced him from behind. The momentum should have slammed Jack into the floor, but Avery pounced at him too, straight on, and where Matt's claws sank into his back, Avery's claws sank into his chest. Whatever Clara's roar had done, it'd suppressed his blood shield enough for the damn wolves to hurt him.

Matt's claws hurt. Avery's claws burned. Whatever it was that'd allowed her to burn the azlu in the tunnels, something that made her claws glow dark orange, she used it now. And Jack screamed as his skin turned to ash around them.

Feeling flooded him. The vibration in his bones and skin vanished. Paralysis fled. His senses came back to him, his power, all of it. Whatever Clara had done had been temporary, and his control came back to him in a glorious flood of power. His Beast, his slave, its power coursed through him, and his blood shield burst into full strength again, rendering Matthew's claws borderline meaningless.

Avery's claws, on the other hand, burned, and burned. They tore through his blood, and ripped down from his collar to his chest, and down through his stomach.

"Get off!" Jack swung his arm to the side, and the back of his fist collided with her head. He made sure to hit her head, not just her snout, and the bitch went flying, half spinning sideways before slamming into the ground. And as she did, Jack drove his elbow into Matt's gut, hard enough the damn beast, already a wounded mess, fell back as a dozen ribs shattered.

With his power returned and the damn dogs off him, Jack resummoned his legion. They came to him quickly, resuming their protective circle around him.

He looked down at his chest, and winced. She'd burned him. God damn, the bitch had burned him, like she'd come at him with a flaming chainsaw. His ribs were exposed, so was a chunk of his collar bone, and some of the bone was cut through; only thing keeping it together and working was his blood. His guts were exposed too, old withered things, and he scooped them back into his stomach so his blood could get a proper grip on them, and keep them there, before it coursed over his body with its flowing veins once again.

Snarling, Jack spun and looked at Matthew. Stupid dog was on his knees, coughing up a fountain of blood, but his eyes were on Jack, ready to pounce him the moment his body got working again. So Jack drove his fist down at the man's stupid werewolf face, broke his cheek bone, and sent him to the floor.

"I fucking put the fight on pause, and you try and get a sneak attack in on me?" he said, gesturing to Matt, and Avery, and Clara. "Fucking hell, that's pretty damn good. I figured you'd die with your honor, but nope, you guys fight dirty when you need to. I can respect that." He walked over to Clara and squatted down over her. "Gotta admit, you've surprised me. No wonder you're second in command."

She growled up at him, but made no attempt to hit him. Not like she could do much exhausted, and with an arm missing.

"Good girl." Smiling down at her, he leaned down, pat her cheek, and gave her doggy snout a quick kiss.

An angry roar announced Noah's charge. Ah, Clara's magic roar earlier had broken David's brainwashing, the surface brainwashing anyway. So naturally Noah decided to come at him while he was distracted.

Jack pointed a hand at Noah, palm open, and five thousand rats poured up in front of Jack like a tsunami. The mountain of meat crashed into the injured wolf, and buried him in biting teeth and claws. He bit and clawed in return, but the werewolf disappeared under the swarming bodies like one of those diggers in The Mummy. Only one of his giant clawed hands remained visible under the pile, twitching with spasms.

David stood there, frozen, shell shocked from his broken brainwash. The werewolf beside him was apparently smart enough to learn they'd been beaten, and just stared at Jack.

He loved that stare, the jaw agape, eyes wide, body frozen stare. The petrified stare. Seeing it on their faces despite the fact they were in their big war form was intoxicating.

He looked around at the rest of the pack as they watched Noah get eaten alive. The rest of them were battered, beaten, bleeding from a million holes, and struggling to stand. His legion left them alone for now, making an example of Noah, and only once the man stopped struggling against the swarm, did Jack pull his legion back.

What was left was a Jackson Pollock of blood. The rats had gotten through a lot of Noah's skin in that swarm, and had shredded through tendons. Wrists, ankles, behind the knees, under the shoulders, all the soft places, torn up. But the fucker was alive, and he'd live, given what Jack had seen these dumb dogs survive; they'd live through anything barring cutting off their heads, or cutting them in half, heh.

"Now, for the rest of you!" He swept his hand toward the rest of the pack. "I'm not going to kill you. Calm the fuck down, before I put you all in the ground." Please, please give him a reason to kill you. To feel their worthless hearts pop in his grip, splat. To break bones. To see fear in their eyes before death takes them. God, he wanted that.

Avery, wobbly and shaking, rolled off her side and onto her foot and knee, half kneeling. She tried to get up, but Jack skipped over to her, and kicked her in the chest. The impact sent him back, but his legion caught him, keeping him standing so he could watch as Avery fell onto her back, clutching at her chest. More broken bones.

"Fuck me, look at this," he said, and he gestured to his chest. Avery had wounded him, badly. Only thing keeping him upright was the Discipline Juggernaut, and his mastery of it. Blood flowed around and over him and over the wound, like crimson snakes, but her claws had burned him, greatly. He wouldn't be healing the four giant gashes slicing him from neck to waist anytime soon.

"Don't... don't hurt her," Clara said.

"Ha! I said I won't kill her. Didn't say a damn thing about not hurting her." He stepped over Avery and over her waist, grinning down at her. She tried to move, but was struggling to breathe. Major impact to the diaphragm and a bunch of broken ribs could do that.

She did manage to growl though. So naturally, he sat down on her sternum, forced her hands aside, and punched her in the face. Her head snapped to the side, and bits of teeth flew out.

"Let me make this perfectly clear," he said between chuckles, and he punched her again. "You crossed a line. This is not like back then, when you and whoever that Simon dude was decided you could just kill one of us and not suffer consequences." He punched her again. Blood soaked his fist. "While you're in Dolareido, you answer to us, to me, and not the other way around. You don't get to waltz into my city and think, just because you have a holy mission or what-the-fuck-ever, that it gives you the right to--hey!" She tried to get a swipe in at him, but he bat her hand aside, and punched her again, in the snout again, and broke it again. "Don't interrupt me when I'm talking."

"Jack! Please! We understand!" Clara got up. Not werewolf Clara, normal Clara. Human again, she held her arm socket tight to her, blood dripping between her only set of fingers, and she wobbled worse than a drunk prom date.

"I know you understand. I bet the rest of you do, too." He looked around at the group. More of the werewolves had managed to get back up, wounds healing, but they were still beat to fuck. Thousands of bite marks, not to mention the far heavier wounds Jack had inflicted personally. Werewolves were awesome like that. He could beat one into a pulp and they'd live, only so he could do it again. Some of them even looked ready to charge him again, but his rats swirled around him and Avery, daring the dumb animals to try.

"Then stop, please!" Clara begged.

"No." He grabbed Avery's oncoming claws, and twisted, breaking one of her fingers back until it hit her forearm, while the other gripped her wrist, squeezed, and slowly twisted her arm out of the way despite her every effort to stop him. "It's the old farts like this one that need the biggest punishment. They just won't learn." Cackling, he set his free hand to her throat, and squeezed it as well. Big throat though, and he couldn't get a proper grip on it. Didn't matter. He threw Avery's wrist aside, and punched her again. Not much left of her face anymore, and her blood gushed out of the gory mess. It soaked the floor.

The pack winced as he did it, and he could tell they were weighing their options. Attack him again, and risk getting more hurt, or even killed. Or just stand there and watch their boss get beaten black and blue for being a bitch.

David looked especially guilty, and Jack winked at him. Oh, he had plans for that man.

Through a garbled mess of blood and missing teeth, Avery gargled up something.

"I'm sorry, what was that? Speak up." He stopped punching, and gave her broken snout a few light taps on the side.

"I... concede."

Laughing, Jack stood up, and rubbed his drenched hands together. Blood dripped from them and down onto the werewolf's chest.

"There. Was that so hard?" He stepped back from the bitch, and held up his hands. "Fight's over. You don't have to go home, but you can't stay here." Nobody laughed. A shame. Jacob would have laughed.

The werewolves looked at each other, then at him. They struggled to stay standing, and some of them didn't even try, trapped on the floor by their injuries. But everyone looked at him like he'd stab them in the back the moment they exposed their flank.

"Seriously, dumbasses, fight's over. I could kill every single one of you right now if I wanted to, but I won't. You can thank Jack for that." There, you see, shithead? I can play nice. "So heal up, scoop up your wounded, and go."

Well, he supposed he did look pretty scary, standing there with thousands of rats circling him. The rats climbed over each other, occasionally creating mounds a few feet high, before the mound collapsed and the rats flowed over each other like water. Thousands of tiny chitters. Thousands of tiny claws, scratching the stone floor. Thousands of whiskers and beady eyes looking around for their next target. They'd liked the taste of werewolves.

Clara was the first to listen. She really was smarter than the rest of them. Course, being that she only had one arm, she couldn't do much, but it started the chain reaction. Slowly, more of the werewolves transformed back into their human selves, and scooped up their wounded.

"Clara, take this," Jack said, and he snapped his fingers. Immediately a hundred rats fled to the side of the room, and returned with precious cargo. Her arm.

She snarled at him, and turned her back to him, the first to do so. Brave. Caleb helped her pick Avery up, hooked her arm over Clara's shoulders, and the two dragged the broken woman away. Transformed back into human form now, Avery was just a tiny thing, and her face looked worse than as if she'd just told her drunk, abusive husband about her affair.

Well, if Clara didn't want her arm back, whatever. He snapped his fingers, and the rats devoured it, coordinated and quick. Piranha would have been envious with how quickly the rats gobbled it up. They would have been petrified by how easily the rats devoured the bones, too.

Watching the werewolves -- now human -- go was delightful entertainment. Each left a blood trail behind them, and Jack breathed deep the smell of it. He should have taken a drink of one them, but that was hard to do in the middle of a battle. He'd been lucky to get the moment he had to get his claws into David.

Ah, David, their shaman. The man looked at Jack again, and Jack finger waved at him, big grin on full broadcast. David looked away, and helped the more injured werewolves leave.

Jack watched them go, and only when they were truly well and gone did he turn around, and walk over to Maria and Damien. Maria still looked shocked, but as Jack approached, Damien went from disgusted, to anxious, like he expected Jack to attack him. Matthias sat nearby, frozen solid.

"You won't have to stake me, buddy," Jack said, squatting down in front of his friend. "You didn't ruin it for me this time. I got to have the fun!" He clapped his hands together once, and blood splattered everywhere. Neither Maria nor Damien blinked, each staring at him like they didn't know who he was.

"Jack," Maria said at last. "Or... curse?"

He laughed. "Come on, this is getting old." He leaned in, and grinned at the two vamps. "Just call me the Ripper. I know you're all thinking it." He paused, gave them each a dramatic, evil grin, and stopped, once he thought about it. "Or, you know, Ripper, if you don't wanna get all classics about it."

The both blinked at him, then each other, and him again. Jesus fucking christ, no one in the whole damn city had a sense of humor except that Jacob asshole.

"Very well," Maria said. "I... have to thank you, Ripper, for saving me."

"I was nearby when I got Damien's alert. Surprised Jessy didn't show up." Shrugging, he reached down and held out his hand for Maria. She looked at it before glaring up at him, and he laughed. "That reminds me. Maria, there's something I've been wanting to tell you."

"Jack..." Damien said, eying him.

Oh the grin on Jack's face. He knew it was there. There was no way he'd be able to hide it. He squatted down in front of Maria again, and leaned in a little closer.

Don't!

"It was Jack."

"What?" she asked.

"Jack." Oh god this was gonna be amazing. "Jack is the one who killed Lucas."

The explosion of shock on her face was perfect, and he felt his cheeks ache with his growing smile. Silence followed, and Jack glanced at Damien and his angry face, before looking back to Maria, waiting excitedly. This was too good.

"You... you mean... you killed Lucas?"

"Nope, not me. I was just a whisper in the boy's mind, back then. Jack did it. Tricked Lucas. He possessed Damien here, and just when Lucas thought he'd won, he made Damien cut Lucas's head, clean off his shoulders."

"You're... lying..." Eyes locked, unable to blink, she looked at Damien. If he'd had time to prepare, he'd probably have been able to lie about it, but right now, all Maria had to do was catch a glimpse of Damien's eyes, to know New Jack was telling her the truth.

Jack got up, and laughed, and laughed, and laughed some more, as he walked away from Maria and Damien, and headed back to the surface. His legion followed, spread out and carpeting the floor like a living, breathing flood.

There. Remember what Black Blood said to the vamp he helped? Five days, before one of his enemies got him. Try surviving without me now, Jack.