My Little Ventrue Pt. 09 Ch. 12

This particular bar, riding the line between the Carthian and Invictus half of South Side, was a frequent haunt for Carthians and Invictus who liked to rub shoulders the way American football players did. You had to let off steam somehow, and fist fights were a way to do that. All in all, it was a very stupid place for any vampire to be, especially stupid now that the war had begun in earnest. No one was under any illusions anymore. One misstep meant a dead vampire.

But Michael told him to pay a visit, because Carthians were muscling and trying to turn the bar from its usual 'co-owned' state, to a Carthian bar.

Jack stared at the drink in his hand, fingers slowly tightening as he ran the conversation with Antoinette through his mind over and over and over again. His mom could die because of her. His mom was only alive because of her. She was still being cruel. She was also being smart.

The pendulum in his brain smashed against the two sides of his skull over and over, until the glass shattered in Jack's hand. The few kine in the bar stared at him, but the thrall bartender knew better. She wiped up the mess, and got him a new glass, making damn sure to not meet Jack's gaze.

Christ he hated how scared everyone was of him. Even Bruce avoided acknowledging Jack suddenly shattering a glass. God forbid someone anger the terrible Jack the Ripper. Fucking god. And--

~Master~ Mulder called from outside. ~Carthians approach.~

Jack groaned as his familiars announced the entrance of three Carthians. No, wait, five. No, wait... eight.

"You're fucking shitting me," Bruce whispered.

"Apparently not." Sighing, Jack turned to the side and faced the group.

Joe of course. He was young, bit over thirty years embraced, and despite how dumb he was, Garry kept putting him front and center. Maybe the dumbass was trustworthy. Or maybe he was better in a fight than they gave him credit for, and he just hadn't had the chance to show his stuff.

Steve was there, Debby and Bella too. Kathy was there, but she hung out in back, eying him like he was some nasty thing that should be killed with fire. He almost expected to see Tilly, but nope. Maybe Garry had told her to avoid him? After he let her go and sent her to Garry, hopefully that act of goodwill had meant something.

Steve, Debby, and Bella were all serious, proven threats, Ancilla that were plenty dangerous in a straight fight. Joe was more dangerous, because he was itching to show he was worth all the attention Garry gave him. It was always the stupid, eager ones you had to look out for to do something really disastrous in the immediate, like throw a molotov like a baseball at a target five feet away.

"Eight of you, really?" Jack said.

"Was supposed to be a couple of us," Kathy said from the back, "but then I saw you."

Bruce nodded, and adjusted his tie. "Suppose if it was just me, it'd be two Carthians here. One to get my attention, one to stab me in the back."

God damn it Bruce. Jack wasn't trying to goad them. At the same time, he didn't want Bruce to know he was actively trying to prevent a fight at every possible turn. Michael wouldn't like open defiance. Defiance had to be sneaky.

The kine in the bar didn't need to be asked. They walked out the back door, each glancing over their shoulders as they did, half to make sure no one was going to shoot them in the back, half to see who the hell the small dude in the nice suit was. It was his first time in the bar.

"You think we'd stab you in the back?" Joe said, snarling with every word as he came in closer, pushing aside a couple chairs. At least he didn't kick them aside like some drunk moron.

Steve and Bella came up on his sides, but a little behind. Either they were content to let him throw the first punch, and probably take the first hit in return, or they were afraid of Jack. Both, from the glances they threw his way.

The Ventrue part of him fucking loved the scared, quick peeks. And even with the necklace keeping his Beast and the Ripper quiet, Jack could tell they loved it too. But Jack didn't. Jack felt fucking sick to his dry, withered vampire stomach seeing that shit.

"Look guys," Jack said, sliding off his stool. "You know why I'm here. Michael guessed someone would show up tonight looking to cause trouble."

Joe frowned at him. "The Border Bar is ours." Either the man was too stupid to feel fear, or he hid it very well. Probably the former.

"You know it's not," Bruce said. "And we're sick of giving inch after inch over to a bunch of--"

Jack held up a hand. Not in a quick 'shut the fuck up' gesture, but a slower 'I got this' gesture. Last thing he needed was to make the Invictus uncomfortable around him, like a lot of them already were. Bruce knew Julias, and it was only because of that friendship he was willing to work with Jack.

"Give it some time, and everything will go back to normal," Jack said. "Our bosses are having a tiff, but there's no need for us to swing for the fences every opportunity we can."

Bella laughed, but it wasn't sincere. A fake laugh, the kind you used when looking for a fight.

"You fucks think we killed Amanda. We didn't, but we know you think we did. You really expect us to believe you're a peacekeeper, Jack the Ripper?"

He winced and looked down for a moment. That name, that fucking name was going to follow him everywhere. Garry you asshole, he saved Tilly for a reason. The fuck is this about, then?

Or, this wasn't Garry's call. Joe's call? Why the fuck would Steve and Bella listen to this asshole? Maybe Garry was pulling his punches, and they wanted to step up the game? No one had died, since potentially Amanda, and Jack wanted to keep it that way. Maybe the others didn't.

God damn assholes.

The angry looks on their faces said plenty. They were here for a fight, and they were looking for more than just a brawl. Fine. Knowing Carthians, they were going to get physical, use their fists, maybe some knives, and--

All eight of them reached behind their waists, pulled out hidden pistols, and pointed them at him and Bruce. Oh shit.

Jack pushed Bruce out of the way, just in time to hear the gunfire. Eight pistols, dozens of bullets, all pointed at the two Ventrue. At least Bruce was down on the ground, and not getting shot as he scrambled for cover around the corner of the bar counter.

Jack however, was getting shot. A lot. He'd expected them to come at him with fists and knives largely cause, yeah they were Carthians, but also cause pistols made noise. A lot of noise. And while the Border Bar wasn't in a crowded section of South Side, there were still people outside.

They really wanted him dead. Christ, if they succeeded, did they even realize what the Prince would do to them?

Lead slammed into him, a fucking lot of it. Caught off guard, and with the necklace on suppressing his Beast, the bullets cut into him without issue. Tiny balls of metal that pushed through his suit and into his flesh, where Kindred blood put a stop to them a little too late. Jack collapsed back on his ass, only for Joe to come forward and aim at his head, pulling the trigger half a dozen times in a couple seconds.

Jack put up his hand, and summoned his vitae. Vampire blood poured through his limbs, turning his Kindred flesh into steel. Joe's bullets crashed into Jack's hand, and while Jack struggled to keep the flesh barrier between his head and the incoming bullets, a bit of vampire strength made it possible. Once Joe stopped firing, Jack yanked off his necklace, pocketed it, and stood up.

Every Carthian there stared at him, and their jaws dropped as blood seeped out of the hundred holes they put into his suit. Thick, dark, Kindred blood oozed out from the holes in his body, and snaked around his limbs, sealing skin and muscle and repairing bone. They still had magazines, but none of them bothered to reload as Jack glared at each one of them while he repaired his body and prepared for war.

"Think twice!" Bella said. "Do anything to break the Masquerade and you'll be in just as much shit as we will. Worse!"

Jack glared at the woman, then the door behind her. Still closed. People outside heard the gunfire, no doubt about that, and someone would be calling 911 by now. Invictus wouldn't be able to stop the cops from showing up here for long without it being suspicious. Which would be a huge problem if Jack needed to deal with these fuckers asap, but he didn't. All he needed to do was keep them from establishing some kinda flag of ownership. Even if they did stake a claim, it wasn't real, just posturing. But posturing would turn into a real claim with time, and that was something the Primogen could actually bring to the Prince as a legitimate claim for territory, and blah blah blah.

Necklace secure in his pocket, Jack had an easy time summoning and controlling his blood, and once he was sure he wouldn't be walking out of the bar with a bunch of holes punched into his flesh, he forced the blood to settle. It continued to pulse under his skin, and from the looks the Carthians were giving him, they could see it pulsing. Everything went quiet, except for the quiet clinks of flattened bullets falling out of his clothes.

"Just get out of here," he said. "Don't make me make you."

Joe laughed, that half psycho half scared kinda laugh. "The great and mighty Jack the Ripper thinks he can take us all on? You--"

Bruce popped over the corner of the counter, and shot once. The bullet went through Joe's skull, out the skull, and crashed into the pub wall.

Jack snapped his gaze back at Bruce, glaring hard enough Bruce didn't fire a second time.

"I... He was open."

The Carthians, ready to scatter and surround Jack, Bruce's bullet a perfect bell to signal the fight had started, managed to not jump around as Jack held up his hands, palms forward and empty.

"This is a fucking bar, on the border, and no one has claim on it. I'm not here to take it, just make sure you idiots don't think you can, ok? Take Joe and get out."

The Carthians looked at each other, obviously skeptical, but when Jack stepped back and gestured to the unconscious vampire, they relented. Frowning at him the whole time, they scooped Joe up, and gave him to Bella. She left first, hiding herself and the dumbass with her Cloak, while the others followed after her. Soon the bar was empty save for Jack and Bruce, and he breathed a useless sigh of relief.

Groaning, Jack turned around and looked up at his partner.

"Dude, what the fuck?"

"What? Michael told us to fight off any Carthians who try and take the bar."

He was tempted to throw Michael a few insults, but he couldn't trust Bruce. Much as he and Julias had been friends, Bruce was devoted to the Invictus, maybe a little too devoted.

"Michael wants this war a little too much, Bruce. Be careful throwing dynamite ok? Take it from someone who's been at the center of too many big moments. One wrong move and you piss off everyone, cause a chain reaction, and suddenly everyone's trying to kill each other, you included."

"Didn't you thoroughly dismantle an entire pack of werewolves?" Bruce put the pistol into his vest holster, hidden under his jacket. "Werewolves we were trying to get along with? Clara and Carter used to live in some luxurious suites, paid for by us before that incident, right?"

Jack winced with every sentence. "Yeah, I didn't handle that situation well. And that wasn't..." Bad idea to go around telling everyone the curse had a mind of its own, but Kindred understood what it meant to have the Beast tugging at their emotions. "It shouldn't have happened. My Beast got the better of me."

"And that curse made it possible."

Jack eyed the man. "What're you getting at?"

"Use the curse next time Carthians show up and--"

"I used the curse to be able to do this!" He gestured at his chest and sleeve, riddled with holes, and idly plucked a chunk of lead out of his palm. Flesh sealed quickly.

"You know what I mean. Go on the offensive."

"Two problems with that. First: there are a million ways going on the offensive could backfire. You think I can just march into Carthian territory and go on a killing spree? Just cause this curse makes me strong doesn't mean a well aimed molotov isn't going to instantly kill me. And the more we poke the bear, the more desperate the Carthians are going to get."

"If they break the Masquerade, the Prince intervenes."

"They'll find a way to do some crazy shit without crossing the line. They attacked Xnomina, remember."

"Alright fine, you don't want this war to get more heated than it has to. What's the second problem?"

Jack looked the man in the eyes, dead on, unable to keep the frown off his face.

"I don't like killing people who don't deserve it."

Bruce met his gaze, but not for long, eventually looking down as he stepped back.

"That right?"

"Yes, it is. I don't want to kill the Carthians, and I don't want them to kill me."

"Not many vampires in this city have a kill count as high as you, Jack."

Jack froze for a moment, but let it go as he did the math. No, Bruce wasn't talking about that thing with Viktor and Tony, or Lucas. He meant all the shit that happened after, the hunters Jack killed with the help of the curse.

If the man only knew how big the number really was...

Jack's phone buzzed. He checked it. A text message from Damien.

~Gloria is convinced her childe is alive. Sire childe connection. I've told her to stay quiet about it.~

Fucking yes! Not exactly a guarantee that she was alive, but still. Also, shit. Ok, good that Amanda was probably still alive. She was a nice girl and didn't deserve death. But, that meant shit would get complicated. If Michael had her stashed away, it meant he was using her to trigger his war, but also that he wasn't heartless enough to kill her. Assuming Jack was right... what a shitty moral gray area for Michael to be in. If he'd just killed Amanda, then Jack would probably end up killing him, problem solved. If Garry's stupid distraction attack had accidentally killed her, then Jack could see himself easily being forced to kill Garry, and other Carthians besides. Again, problem solved, shit as it was. But this? The fuck was he supposed to do?

"We're done for now," Jack said. "If Carthians show up while we're gone, it won't mean anything. They came for the fight, not for the bar."

"The fight they didn't get. The fight Mister McDonald wanted."

"Doesn't matter. The Carthians know they can't push us out, and that's enough." Jack headed for the back door. "Let's get out of here before the police show up and give us trouble."

"You know you could easily wipe their memories."

Yeah, he could, with the curse's help. And anything he could do to avoid using the curse, the better.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After a change of clothes, Jack decided to do something he almost never did anymore. Take a walk.

He sighed as he walked the sidewalk, hundreds of kine passing by as they drifted from casino to casino, lounge to club. Drunk, high, happy, they didn't know a damn thing about what happened in Dolareido, about the vampires that used them as cattle, none of it. That was the way it was meant to be.

Michael and Garry were going to ruin it, if they didn't kill each other first. And then the Prince would get involved, and as ridiculously strong as Antoinette and the sheriff were, they preferred diplomacy over an iron fist for a reason. Sure, the Prince's views defaulted to diplomacy, but there was also the tiny problem that there were only three dragons in Dolareido, while the Carthians and Invictus had about a hundred vamps each, since the Prince lifted the ban on siring. If Antoinette went to war against those two, who the fuck knew what'd happen. If she helped one, the other would help her, and then might backstab her when all was said and done.

Sighing, Jack looked up and caught a glimpse of Mulder and Scully as they drifted from rooftop to rooftop. Much as he wanted to think about the turf war, his mind kept going back to his mom. Sure, she was a lot happier now that she was with Jacob, but that'd backfire pretty fucking badly if Jacob turned out to be an enemy.

Ugh, it hurt how obvious it was in hindsight. Of course Black Blood was up to no good, the spirit -- not actually a spirit -- wasn't exactly an embodiment of good things. Then again, a 'good' spirit might try and do exactly what Black Blood was doing, if it meant it got to do more spirit things.

No fucking wonder Avery didn't like vampires getting into all the spirit stuff. Shit was weird and complicated.

And yeah, all that shit itched at him, but it wasn't really what was bothering him, not completely. It was Antoinette's cold eyes when she told him to leave his mother alone, and let her continue seeing Jacob. Calculating, tactical, smart, and ruthless. Sometimes it was easy to forget how old she was, even though she'd told him on dozens of occasions a part of why she loved him, was cause of how he was honest about his emotions, and easily wore them on his sleeve. Antoinette, on the other hand, wouldn't blink if she had to kill a child to save two more. The Trolley Dilemma was probably a joke to her.

He knew that. He knew that about her from day one. But never in a million years did he think her ruthlessness would be pointed at him, and at his mom. His mom! Everyone knew by now that sure, Jack and his mom had some similarities, but she wasn't Jack. People could take advantage of her, her niceness and naivety. Could and would. He just never expected it'd be the love of his life taking advantage of her.

He stopped. People stepped around him, and some had to shove aside other kine to keep from touching him. Didn't need to be a vampire to feel the power and rage coming off him as he thought about Jacob, his mom, Antoinette, and Black Blood. Fists clenched at his sides, he stared down at the street, at his shoes, and let the rage boil.

Don't let it boil. Throw it into the fire, like Elaine taught you.

Maybe he should talk to Elaine about it? Nah, she'd side with Antoinette. Anyone that was thinking clearly would. Well, his mom was his mom, and he couldn't think clearly about sacrificing her as a ploy to beat Black Blood at whatever he was trying to pull. Hell, he couldn't think clearly knowing his mom was having sex with Jacob.

Sex. Jacob. Ugh!

He laughed. Christ, he needed a laugh. Of course reality came running back and hit him in the face, hard. Now was usually when he'd go back to the Elysium Tower and be with Antoinette, talk about science and music, have sex, maybe feed. And he didn't want to. He didn't want to look at her, not now. Christ, if those Carthians at the bar had pushed just a little bit harder, he would have happily torn off some limbs.

~Clara is following you.~

Jack blinked, and looked up. Scully's voice. She perched on a power line, Mulder beside her, and both crows flapped their wings a couple times before looking across the street.

Sure enough, there was Clara. They met eyes, and she managed a small smile and wave.

~Know how long she's been following me?~

~Since those vampires fired all those guns at you.~

Scully and Mulder's vocabulary grew every night. It was almost scary.

~She probably heard the commotion and investigated.~

~Yes master.~ Mulder said. ~Clara is... nicer, than the white-haired one, master.~

He rolled his eyes, chuckling. Yeah, of course they'd have something to say about his love life, considering how often they were with him.

Sighing, he walked across the street and joined Clara. He was in his usual Invictus business suit, and she wore a white tank top and blue jeans. They could not have looked more different.

"Hey," she said. "Got shot?"

"Hey." He smiled at her. "A lot, actually. You didn't see it?"