My Little Ventrue Pt. 09 Ch. 16

But Jack the Ripper was! People at the office loved him.

Jack ducked. Apparently Daniel didn't expect Jack to summon enough speed to do that, cause he collided with Jack, chest to Jack's upper body. Jack laughed as he punched up, and nailed the fucker in the chest.

"Haha!"

Daniel, somehow, managed to jump with the punch, and back as well, landing on his feet again, with minimal damage. There'd been contact, knuckles to bone, and the sheriff rubbed his chest for a second with the most dispassionate, stone face Jack had ever seen. This wasn't nearly as much fun as Jack had been hoping.

Don't you dare hurt him.

Shut up kid. I'm having fun. You lock me up for weeks and expect me to just sit around when I finally get out?

If you hurt him, the Prince will--

Do what? She can't hurt me, without hurting you. So shut the fuck up and let me have some fun. If he dies, he dies.

The Ripper rolled his eyes, and crushed the voice in his head. He was in the driver seat now, and he wasn't going to let some idiot child he was forced to share this body with dictate a god damn thing. Shut. The fuck. Up.

"You're fast, you know that?"

Daniel didn't respond.

"If you were using your sword, I bet you might even be able to hurt me. Maybe even kill me."

Daniel didn't respond.

"Course, if we were playing for realsies, I wouldn't be out here, would I? I'd be hiding in my tower, like the Prince. I'd be sending my legions, my thralls and ghouls, my pets, my army. I'd be sipping a fine red and looking out the tower window, while my latest ghoul blows me. Sound about right? Maybe something Viktor would have done?"

Daniel didn't respond. Fuck, this guy was more than just boring. He was professional. Ugh!

Sighing, and wearing his biggest, best grin, Jack pointed his hand at Daniel, and made the classic 'come at me' gesture. He was tempted to voice it, say something like 'come at me bro' or 'get over here!' or some such, but it'd wasted on this fossil.

Sure enough, Daniel came at him. Faster. Jack didn't manage to duck this time, and the fist came straight for his face, dead center on the nose. And the fucker put some power in it too, cause despite Jack keeping his vitae up and ready, strengthening his body and hardening it, his nose went crunch.

Jack flew back, hit the street, rolled a half dozen times, and collided with the front of a car. The bumper dented in, and so did the hood where the back of Jack's head smashed down onto it.

Seeing stars, Jack fell forward to his hands and knees, and blinked a bunch until the world stopped spinning. Concussion? Nah, vampire. Broken bones? Nah, super vampire. Broken nose? Apparently. Teetering, Jack stood up, got his bearings quick, and glared at the asshole a good fifty feet down the street from him.

Daniel clenched and unclenched the fist he used to punch Jack. He'd hurt himself, punching that hard.

Chuckling loud enough it echoed against the big, empty office buildings, Jack began the walk back to the sheriff. And naturally, Daniel stared at him with those cold eyes the whole time. Perfect.

"Come on, no speech? Nothing to say at all? Sheriff, I'm giving you the perfect opportunity to tell the audience what you're thinking?"

Daniel didn't so much as glance at the nearby Kindred, thralls, and ghouls who stared on. His eyes remained focused on Jack, hands at his sides, elbows slightly bent and ready to get his hands up again. Laser focus.

As Jack closed the distance, he reached deep down into him, found the biggest wrecking ball he could, and smashed it into the bastard's mind.

Jack the Ripper was strong, fueled by an ancient curse passed onto his bloodline by the Strix themselves, forged from the ashes of diablerie. He had power in spades. But tackling the mind of an ancient vampire as old as Daniel was a pretty big task. The most powerful Ventrue didn't go around dominating vampires of similar age, that's just not how it worked. With Dominate, you punched down, and broke the minds of weaker foes.

Punching straight, hitting Daniel's mind, was like a regular human punching a tree. Jack's assault came to a quick stop as he smashed into a giant wall of steel in the sheriff's mind. And within the metaphor of his mind, Jack the Ripper looked up and up at the steel gate that barred his way.

Beside him, Jack the weakling stood there, arms folded across his chest, a big stupid grin on his face, and he gestured to the gate.

"You think you can break that down?"

The Ripper snarled, and slashed out at the gate with one of his many claws. He poured his power into it, and sure enough the metal scratched and dented where his will struck it. But that was all.

"Yes."

"Sometime this century?"

The Ripper snarled down at the stupid boy. "It wouldn't take a century."

"It'd certainly take longer than a minute though. And right now, you and Daniel are standing in a street, with a bunch of Invictus and Carthians watching."

The metaphor around them happened a thousand times faster than the physical world outside. The Ripper had time to think and work, but he knew he wouldn't be breaking into this fortress.

A glance around showed more than the steel wall. Beyond it, a steel building with no windows, square and beyond boring. And above that, a pale sky, with no moon or sun or clouds. And underneath their feet, endless dark stone, or metal, or something hard and featureless.

Fortress didn't do justice how fucked up this man's mind was.

The Ripper had traces of memory of the lives that came before him. He had shreds of moments from Julias's life, before siring Jack. Of Viktor's life, before he sired Julias. Of Elaine, before she sired Viktor. And of Susanna, before she sired Elaine.

None of them had minds like this, but then, his chain of memory didn't extend to their minds post siring a childe. But he doubted any of them had developed a mind quite like this. Susanna definitely didn't. Her mind was an orgy of sex and gore and murder and rape and torture, an excess of stimulation that she relished. Elaine and Viktor and Julias's minds were predictable, small houses that slowly raised into castles, and would have continued to grow if this incarnation of the Ripper had stayed within.

What sort of fucked up past did Daniel have to turn his mind into this? No wonder he was interested in an angry bitch like Athalia. Her stupid loud voice was probably the only thing on the planet capable of penetrating this shit.

Snarling, the Ripper let the Dominate hold go. Instantly the streets of North Side were visible again, the heat of the burning office building, and the eyes of the onlookers. To them, they'd have seen a couple seconds pause in the fight, nothing more. To Daniel and Jack, it was a failed attempt to Dominate.

Daniel didn't even bother grinning, but he did take it as a sign to attack. Again, Daniel came at him, and again, it was a blur of movement. It wasn't just speed. Daniel was a masterclass assassin, and used his Cloak to hide his movements. Jack, normal Jack, still remembered what it was like when Daniel had slaughtered the dozen or so Kindred that'd been with Lucas, after he'd used Damien to kill him. The sheriff had been a ghost, appearing for only a second to slice someone in half, before disappearing again.

Well, Jack was not some young Kindred. Jack poured his vitae into his senses, into his awareness, and jerked his head to the right. Daniel's fist came at him, for the head again, with enough speed to make a car jealous. But he'd underestimated Jack, probably because of the failed Dominate attempt. The curse was strong, very strong, and Jack summoned enough speed to tilt his head out of the way, and get his closer hand up and on Daniel's arm.

Finally, a look of surprise on the bastard's face. Subtle, but there, and it made the fight worth it.

Jack got his left hand's grip on the man's punching hand, his right, and he grinned at the bastard as he returned the punch, straight for the fucker's chest. And this time, with a firm grip on the fucker's wrist, Daniel wasn't going anywhere. All Jack needed was an anchor and he could pour his strength into something, and that anchor was their connection.

Broken bones. He felt them, the delicious sensation of bones breaking like fucking pasta noodles snapping in half, and Daniel's face lit up with pain and rage like he was Italian. No scream though. The others screamed, the Carthians, screamed like stuck pigs. But not Daniel, just a grimace. It took the sheriff a second to get his precious statue face back, but Jack had already lined up another punch.

Jack missed. Daniel stepped back far, twisting away even as his right arm stayed locked in Jack's left hand. But with some distance between them, Daniel had enough room to bring up one of his feet for a face kick, taking advantage of Jack's forward momentum from the missed punch. Punches hit hard, but kicks hit harder, and Jack only just managed to twist his head enough to keep the boot from colliding with his nose. It'd only just gotten realigned and he didn't want to do it again.

Apparently Daniel really was a ninja, because he balanced on one leg, and with torso facing Jack, kept the same kicking foot up in the air, bent at the knee and hip, and kicked out again, this time at Jack's chest. Not the power of a full kick but it still fucking hurt, and Jack recoiled with the impact. Which left Daniel an opening to kick him in the face, with the same foot, all without lowering the leg. And he repeated the motion several times.

In a shitty kung fu movie, it'd have been silly, with exaggerated sound effects. With an elder vampire doing it, it was pain, and Jack groaned as the five-hundred-year-old Mekhet's boot collided with his chest and face hard enough Jack could feel his hardened flesh struggle against it. Daniel's boot also started to split with the strength of impact, but it didn't stop the sheriff from kicking him again and again anyway.

Snarling, Jack yanked on the man's hand, hard. That sent Daniel toward Jack's left, and Jack toward his right, and with enough force they both fell over. But Jack didn't let go, and he scrambled over to Daniel to get beside him. He punched down, but Daniel rolled out of the way. The street cracked around Jack's fist like glass. Daniel had half rolled, half flipped, getting back to his feet and yanking on his right hand. For a second Jack thought he was trying to get the hand back, but he yanked Jack right toward him, and like a yoyo, Jack came up to him.

Daniel slammed his forehead down against Jack's nose.

"Fuck!" Jack slumped down, dangling from Daniel's clutched wrist, nose broken again. "Oh you fucking asshole!"

"Jack, get a hold of yourself and--"

Jack squeezed. Fuck this. He didn't want to squeeze and potentially lose the anchor he had on the slippery bastard, but he did anyway, and Daniel's face broke into more delicious, subtle signs of agony as Jack crushed the bones in the man's wrist. And that created a lovely opening for Jack to get back to his feet, and punch the fucker straight in his nose. And Jack punched harder than this fucker. The man's glasses shattered and flew away.

And Jack didn't let go of his hand either. Oh the glorious way the sheriff twisted onto the street as he fell from the impact, and his broken wrist bones ground against each other. Nose shattered, he looked up at Jack with a quick snap of awareness, and far faster than Jack would have, recovered and got back to his feet.

"I'm going to beat the shit out of you," Jack said, grinning as he squeezed harder on the sheriff's broken wrist. It was enough to stop the man from whatever punch or kick he was about to throw. "I'm going to beat you into fucking pulp. I'm going to smash your bones." To prove his point, he yanked on Daniel's wrist again, and punched him in the other shoulder. For all Daniel's speed and strength, he didn't have the resilience of a Ventrue or the curse, and he almost fell again as the punch broke something. "I'm going to rip off your kneecaps. I'm going to rip out your teeth and make you swallow them. I'm going to break your face in until there's nothing left, and Annie has to spoon feed you blood for a decade before you can feed yourself again. I'm going to--"

A small jolt of pressure made Jack stop, and he blinked down at his chest. Something thin and sharp was sticking out of him.

Jack the Ripper growled as he looked over his shoulder, at Damien. "I'm going to fucking kill you." He spun, and Damien jumped back, but not fast enough. The back of Jack's fist collided with the man's side, and sent him spiraling through the air before crashing into a streetlight.

Jack let go of Daniel, and turned to face his so called friend, and his wide eyes. "I'm going to kill you. Then I'm going to rip Fiona's guts out, and... and..."

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~~Damien~~

Thank the Lord.

Slowly, Damien crawled back up, and cradled his side where the Ripper had backhanded him. The curse was faster than Damien expected, and that single hit was enough to break several of Damien's ribs.

But thank the Lord, Jack's eyes closed as he slumped forward, and fell on the street.

"Damien," Daniel said, and he gently held his broken wrist. "Thank you."

"Can't believe you agreed to a fist fight with... the curse. You know it won a fist fight with one of those azlu monsters. It won one against Sándor too, you know. In his gargoyle form."

The sheriff sighed as he reached up to his broken nose with his good hand, and righted it with a crunch. Mekhet weren't as resilient as Ventrue or Gangrels, but Daniel was hundreds of years old, and could probably recover from simple wounds easily enough. Just, maybe not a dozen of them.

"Lesson learned."

"Did... did he destroy the necklace?"

"No!" Vivi ran over to them, a small bag in hand. Her only hand. "No, it's here!"

Both men blinked down at her, before Daniel finally managed a small smile.

Damien took the bag from her, took out the necklace, thanked the Lord yet again, and slipped it over the head of the unconscious vampire.

"Vivi," Damien said, "your arm?"

"It caught fire, cause of that asshole Joe. Jack... tore it off, to save me."

"Leave it to Jack to make a hard decision fast."

Nodding, Vivi knelt down beside the man. "I... I knew the curse was dangerous. Everyone's been talking about it. But he ripped Joe's head off! Ripped it off!"

Farewell Joe. You will not be missed. Not by anyone outside the Carthians, at least.

"And..." Vivi sighed and shook her head. "And Bruce is dead, too. The fire got him."

Damien winced as he looked up at the burning building. "Garry--"

"I don't think it was Garry. Joe wanted to do this on his own. Or at least, it seemed like that."

The sheriff raised a single finger. "Either way, the fight's over. Damien, get everyone out of here."

Right, get everyone out. He wasn't Invictus, but he was a Right Hand.

"Right. And--"

Daniel reached down with his good arm, and flung Jack over his good shoulder. "I'll get Jack to the tower, where we can awaken him safely."

Damien stared at the man. How was the sheriff still standing? He'd watched the fight from a distance, as far a distance as he could manage with binoculars, so he could run in if he ever found Jack truly distracted. Damien was sure one good punch from the Ripper would take Damien's head off; it nearly did. And Daniel had taken several.

"You sure?"

"I'm sure. Get this situation handled." The sheriff nodded to his grandchilde, and the burning building.

Damien returned the nod, and as the sheriff disappeared into his cloak, Damien noticed the man limp as he faded. He was deeply injured.

The others didn't know, they hadn't seen. Damien knew. He'd seen how hard the curse could punch when he had to use his fists. The others didn't realize that Jack had punched the sheriff hard enough to break concrete, hard enough to break the legs of a giant spider monster, hard enough to kill younger Kindred outright. Hard enough he'd left a fist print in the street.

And why? Daniel could have come at him with his sword. That could have killed Jack outright. Maybe. The blood shield the curse could summon might have been strong enough to prevent it from cutting into him at all. And if he got angry, he might have thrown the Masquerade to the dirt, and summoned his legion.

Daniel risked his life to play it safe, and to avoid killing Jack too. All for Antoinette.

That was a friend.

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~~Antoinette~~

She removed the stake from the boy's back, and waited in front of him.

He dangled within her prison, arms up and bound by chains. The prison had been designed to contain even the most powerful paranormal creatures, but the raw strength the curse demonstrated rivaled that of Antoinette or Jacob, ancient Daeva and Nosferatu and naturals of strength. If Antoinette needed to, she knew she had the strength to lift a truck and hurl its mass. If she needed to, she knew her strength allowed her to bend the hardest metals, and tear through the sturdiest walls. With centuries of power to draw from and a Daeva's natural affinity for strength, she was confident she was one of the strongest creatures on the planet.

The curse's strength terrified her. For it to be able to Dominate entities quickly and easily, summon entire legions of creatures easily, recover from and prevent wounds easily, and also summon absurd strength? How many years would a Ventrue need to achieve such power? A millennium?

Jack snapped open his eyes, and she found his eyes as the boy looked around in panic.

It was him.

"My love," she said, smiling. "How are you?"

"Antoinette? I... oh... oh." He looked down as depression rushed him with all the subtlety of the fire that burned the Tanvar building. "Oh christ, I made everything worse."

"How so?" She reached up and undid the shackles upon his wrists, and then the shackles upon his ankles. A precaution she was not sure would hold him, but the look in his eyes told her the truth. Perhaps it was the torpor, or the necklace, but he was himself again.

She needed to thank Elaine once again for the artifact. Whatever plots her old friend schemed, she had helped her love far more than anyone else had.

"That fucking asshole Joe attacked the building, even set it on fire. It got Bruce. Nearly got Vivienne."

"But not you?"

"It got me, pretty bad, but..."

Ah yes, the curse summoned its power to protect him. As deadly as the sun and fire were to vampires, those with the strength to summon the Juggernaut's Gait to protect themselves were immune to them, and indeed almost all potential sources of injury. For several seconds. The curse's ability to use its power for an extended period of time was nothing short of extraordinary, and no doubt had saved Jack's life on multiple occasions. Terrible power at a terrible cost.

They walked together, and Antoinette held out a hand toward one of the many rooms filled with chairs and couches. A room with no other raison d'être other than socializing.

Jack sat down upon a sofa chair, and she sat upon the end of a couch near him.

"What happened?"

"That fucking asshole Joe. I knew he hated the Invictus, but I didn't think it'd be this bad. He let it drop that he wasn't happy with Garry, so I'm guessing Garry told him to ease up with his vendetta against us. He didn't like that. Guess he exploded."

"Oui, I imagine he did." The damn fool. A perfect example of all the things Antoinette fought against. "And you killed him?"

Jack, sitting upon the chair in nothing but his boxers, looked at Antoinette as if an anchor hung from his neck.

"I ripped his head off."

"Oh... oh dear."

The boy slowly nodded as he leaned back into the cushions, and closed his eyes. "Ripped Vivi's arm off too. But it was the only way I could stop the fire from spreading."