28. Another One Bites The Dust.

I drove to the house in Paris. There, I ate, drank, and got my fighting clothes ready. The club would be tonight, and the drive would take a little over an hour. They let me wear high heels here, so I put them on. The heels were special reinforced steel and wouldn't break easily. I was oriented to fighting again, and now I didn't have to ponder mysteries or anything weird as I just concentrated on fighting. I tried to keep my mind and my rage out, no time to think how many fuckers were innocent, actually. Human mind is simple to influence and I am not expert to see that.

Damon hadn't called for two days; I wondered as I passed if he would call tomorrow morning when I said sure I was going to France next. He had said little about where he was; he just said the victims were progressing at a good pace. 

Mimosa told Adam, Damon, and even Samuel that Mimi didn't have to win every fucking club by herself or do every mission. If one guy was free, they could help. Damon had killed all his victims, and that job was taken care of. There would still be fight clubs, but not until much later. According to Mimosa, she would always give the information about their location later.

Damon said to Adam and Samuel. "Fine, I'll go to France to help the baby. Adam, you work on those German fight clubs already because now you have a reputation, and you'll get more of them. Samuel will help you with the damage, and if anything worse comes up, I mean anything that needs my teeth or anything else, let me know."

Adam looked at Damon questioningly for a moment, then said half thoughtfully. "I wonder which one of us is actually the leader of this pack? No offense meant it just occurred to me."

Damon grumbled, "I'll lead where I can. Mimi is my priority, and you can do the rest. I'm not the official pack leader. I don't want to fuck politics with the other alphas, but I'll take command if I feel like it whenever I need to."

Adam nodded and smiled. They now had an order of how they would go about the job and went with it. Damon was becoming one hell of man. Adam had seen his growth as well and even that old stubborn vampire did not see it himself, he had grown. One day he would be fine pack leader and Adam would be honored to have him as leader of the pack.

I went to the fight club. As I approached the building, I took out my rage and let it rip. Now, I had to be on my game. I was almost immediately on the scene, unleashing my rage as I started killing. Now, I wasn't fighting. Now, I was looking for the quickest and most effective way to kill my opponent. My inner killer was ready, and it enjoyed slaughtering all of these.

But it's not so easy if you have black elves and black fae. These satans always had armor or armor plates on, and it took close contact when I got rid of them. They had weapons, daggers, swords, even axes, and the hits came, but my healing ability held up just fine, and now I had learned a neat little trick: I could combine pain with rage so that each hit boosted my rage even more.

It got me in a pretty wild mood, and my rage seared inside me like the white sun, burning away any sense of caution and also self-control. Now, I went on instinct and rage. But when you are immortal, fearless. When I am consumed by rage, I don't feel any sword thrusts. Nothing hurts.

I maimed my opponent with my bare hands the first night. And I devoured their blood as soon as I could find a place to sink my teeth. I couldn't make the poison. I obviously hadn't eaten the right stuff. I had to develop new ways to get them destroyed quickly.

Just because they were so much stronger, kicks and punches wouldn't do enough damage fast enough. I killed 18 opponents on the first night; the fight lasted 12 hours, and I worked all the time to nail every single one of them. 

I left the cage and killed the fuckers. I had taken one axe that a dark fae had brought to the fight when I slashed the fuckers to pieces. I saw movement in the crowd. Someone stood up when they saw me destroy all the enemies.

I looked a little closer, rage burning as I watched. I had blood all over me, from both myself and others. Then I saw Sark. Oh fuck. Or he had gotten free. Sark looked at me. I sniffed the air, and the bitter stench of his fear made my mouth turn up in a beastly smile. My inner killer was more than ready. 

Oh, fear overcame Sark. Now, I wasn't as easy a victim as I had been on the ship. I could see metals in the fuckers' syringes, and I didn't know if I had any, but I didn't care. Fine. Very good. 

Damon drove to the first fight club in France. It was almost morning, and he was going to pick up Mimi. Mimosa had told him he should take Magnum with him, so he'd taken it with him. They'd talked about Mimi for a long time.

Magnum had admitted that Mimi had been good in bed, but he had found that he was afraid of her and, therefore, not interested in renewing his interest. At least not for now. Her supernatural aura had came out as they had fucked and Magnum had been almost overwhelmed. Damon let it go. It was ancient history.

As he drove into the club yard, he saw the familiar white van and knew that Sark had gotten loose and might hunt for Mimi, knowing Mimi. As he searched his wife's thoughts, she was about to take a run at Sark and forgot about saving the world.

Damon cursed softly. He had been in Malta, and he was now ready to intervene; he quickly briefed Magnum about Sark, and the latter grabbed the gun from his pocket, loaded it, and was prepared to chase Sark, keep him busy so that Sark would not interfere with Mimi or bother her at all. Maybe even killing him.

The men exited the car, Damon striding quickly inside, Magnum in tow. He had a potent cocktail with him, and he hoped he could get the lady under control. Mimi's rage was delicious to eat, and he could sense it already. It was calling to him like a beacon. He sense her darkness once again as well. I would be time to put that again under restraint. Magnum saw Sark and went after him as Damon grabbed the bloody Mimi, who looked fierce.

I was about to go towards Sark when Damon came in front of me and grabbed me tightly under his arm so I couldn't get away.

He said in a barely audible voice. "Baby, remember you're on a gig; now you can't go getting yourself metallized. You just can't. Now we'll leave here in peace, and you will not chase the Sark. Magnum will take care of it."

Damon gave me no choice. Fine, I could walk out of here, but that was it. Now my rage was wide open. Now, I only wanted to sit and wait for the next day's fight. Damon walked me out of the club.

I went through the door myself, and through the magic, my results registered. Damon immediately grabbed me again. I started struggling to get away when we got through the door. I felt a prick on my side. He gave my liver something.

Damon held me in his tight grip. My rage didn't care about the drugs. I just felt a white-hot rage burn away all the effects. Nope. Not working. Then he took me against him so I was face to his chest, and he held me and stroked me. He did something to my rage. It receded a little. It disappeared somewhere.

The medicine kicked in as my rage faded, and I couldn't get into the well to take it out anymore. I calmed down. Tired. I barely even felt the second sting that came from my back right into my heart. I fell asleep in Damon's arms.

Damon was carrying the now limp woman to her car. Magnum had taken his car and dug the keys out of her pocket. He was still enjoying himself as he ate the rage, feeling it strengthen him. This was good stuff.

Damon had various mental abilities apart from telepathy, and the capacity to consume rage in enormous quantities was one of them. He went for a drive to the house in Paris. Still ate Mimi's rage while driving. He knew she had plenty of rage, but he cleaned her mind and ate all the rage out of her.

They'd only been apart for a little over two weeks, and Damon had always missed her. He carried Mimi inside, admiring this house and cursing in his mind when he didn't have time to dedicate it, but then maybe one day.

He undressed her, went through her, took a blood test, and noticed how she was down to 61 kilos. Seven kilos in two weeks is a ferocious pace, and it told Damon straight away that he had to be really strict now, help where needed, and now it was to get her rage under control and feed her, watch her, and help her in the clubs.

He had shove that darkness deeper, dispelled that feeling of genuine pleasure of killing in her mind, so she would not felt like monster. One day she would accept that side but she was not yet ready for that. He left Mimi in one of the downstairs bedrooms to wake up.

When I woke up, I thought, Really? I need my rage. I don't want it or have the energy to control it all the time. I've got a long streak of fights coming up, and I don't always have the energy to take my rage out. My killer side was deeper and feeling of euphoria of killing was mild now. I was not so eager to kill right now.

Damon walked into the room and looked at me appraisingly.

He said, " If you keep this up, baby, you will not weigh 30 kilos after this gig. Now come and have a proper meal and then I'll tell you where we're going. You've lost 7 kilos already, and it's only been a couple of weeks. "

Irritation was building up within me. I was in gig mode, and he had extinguished my rage. I didn't feel so invincible without it, but I had thoughts in my head, and I was in a really edgy mood. Oh, where are we going? Yes, I know my job. The bastard thinks he's going to tell me what to do.

Then I went to eat. This was now again wagyu cattle, and that was good. There was quite a lot of food, including fatty steaks, meatballs, and a bit of macaroni, but I prioritized the meat and ate it first, as I should.

There were two thermos pots of coffee on the table, one for each, and I sipped my coffee as I ate and enjoyed.

Damon said, "This will be your prime meat from now on. Apparently, this works wonders. Keep eating." 

Fine, let's go on then. I have expensive tastes. I'm not cheap to maintain.

Damon said, "See, I guess Mimosa didn't tell you that in these fight clubs, you can have someone else fight in your place. I'm free now, and so is Adam. Adam has already gone to Germany, and he's already starting those clubs. We'll share these clubs. And baby, I'm going to take you out of that cage, and we're gonna put that rage down. You understand. You gotta control the rage. I saw you kept it on full display, which gives you a boost, but as you noticed, it makes you careless. And now is not the time to be reckless. I ate all your loose rage away. That's my ability and baby, you have a mighty delicious rage, and I had an excellent meal on the way over here. I put your darkness to sleep, let it be. One day it will be easier for you to accept it but not yet."

Actually, Damon was making sense. I'm reckless because I feel nothing, and I don't mind. Pain is nothing to me when my rage is out and then I want to play with my victims when my killer side is out. I want that pleasure.

I looked at Damon and said, " How do I feel there is nothing to negotiate?"

Damon said, "There is nothing at all. I am here to help you to the best of my ability, and that doesn't mean I am going to ask you what you need because I can see pretty damn clearly what you actually need." His voice was calm, but dominant as hell.

I finished eating, and we toured the house. I showed a few rooms, and we devoted our five hours to the room. Then, it was Damon's club night, and I was left to wait for him to arrive in the morning. I had a BMV SUV, the latest model, a hybrid, and Damon drove it happily every night. Either he went to the club, or I went, but he drove.

Fine, we did then, so Damon went to his club every other night, and I went to mine. And Damon was always there to pick me up as soon as I came out of the cage. He was there. Since it wasn't mandatory to kill the fuckers now, he wouldn't let me interfere.

Every time we got out of the club, he calmed me down or, more accurately, stunned me completely unconscious. He gave me a shot of something, apparently feeding off my rage as he wrapped himself around me and stroked me, so the medicine kicked in, and I fell asleep. Always. It was some potent drug. It's probably a precision dentistry drug again.

When I woke up, usually all my wounds were bandaged and had a bandage with Damon's blood on them. It healed them quickly. Then I had to eat. Depending on how fast I woke up and my damage, we might dedicate a room in between.

When I ate, Damon would give me feedback on my fight, and from him, I always got good advice on my opponents. He also would pick up on some of my moves and habits, like the powder in my pocket; he had made his own from dental stuff, which he had then dried.

Magnum supplied me with more powders to use in France, though; I noticed in the morning that my teeth were already drained when I used the dental stuff in a fight. Again, Damon studied them. He made his own version of them and got the fights done better.

After we had finished the French, Samuel announced Damon was needed. I was left with ten clubs in Germany, and now no one could help me. Well, I could do it myself. Damon flew to America, and he was needed there. I drove to Germany to look at these clubs. I was now 65 kilos again and in good shape. Damon had left his arsenal of dental stuff and many bags of blood. He didn't like to leave, but this was a must.