13. Super Trouper.

We were still in Chicago and intended to move to Iowa sometime in between. I hadn't been there yet, so I didn't know what a bedroom would be like there. Damon, Adam, or even Samuel were watching me all the time, and I wasn't allowed to go out on my own, not to the shops; I was pretty much grounded, and of course, that's when you get the urge to go out and about.

I was getting frustrated, and the full moon was near, so my nerves were on edge. Adam was away on a business trip, and Samuel was at the clinic. We had been doing well with Damon. I had shown him my test kitchen when I had ordered the food supplies, especially the meat, but then I noticed another weakness in myself.

 I had ordered some lovely big red steak tomatoes and made myself a salad, well salad, and salad. There was meat, cheese cubes, tomato, chives or spring onion, and lettuce, but nothing was dressing was not my style. Tomatoes would give it enough moisture, but the meat was fatty, and the cheese was the most that made this salad. Cheese was full-fat mozzarella. One of the best cheeses for me. I had found it by accident, and Damon had ordered quite a lot more. Anything to get more calories and protein in my food was positive. I had a little bit of Edam cheese in there too, but it was nothing for me but a treat.

Then I got some grilled sausages from Finland, which I grilled, and I made myself sausages and salad and ate. It was as perfect as could be. Damon stared at my food for a while and ensured I ate enough meat; I ate a couple of tomatoes right off the plate as I hadn't had them in a long time. Oh, they were just so damn perfect.

Then, I had a couple of good chicken nuggets with a good crust, a herb coating of garlic and coriander, and some other herbs. I had managed to do them once. For some reason, my earlier versions of chicken nuggets had not worked out, but as Damon taught me how to do it, they worked out. I finished my meal, and Damon's phone rang again, so I just went downstairs to the bedroom to read, but I soon started to feel sick.

I felt like I ached all over and was listless; I couldn't talk or read. I felt almost unconscious and just watched as there was an enormous bruise on my wrist after I had dropped a book on it. I was nauseous, and my legs were cramping, almost convulsing, and I was too faint and semi-conscious to go looking for Damon. My pulse was erratic, and the last thing I felt was the convulsions that were running through my body.

Damon got off the phone with Adam and was feeling very uneasy. Somehow, Mimi's food had been wrong, but when he couldn't figure out why or what had been the problem, he stomped upstairs, assuming Mimi was there, but no.

Oh fuck, Mimi had seen again when he had just been talking on the phone and had already gone downstairs. Fine. Damon went down the stairs and strode into Mimi's room. He opened the door and rushed into action before realizing it himself.

Mimi was lying in bed, mouth foaming with spasms, and her eyes rolled over at the back of her head. Damon lunged at Mimi, put her head to one side, and sank his teeth into her neck. He felt the substance start to flow, and slowly, her convulsions stopped; she relaxed, but still, her pulse was almost non-existent and very irregular.

 Mimi was poisoned, but what did it do? Damon went into a stupor again as the teeth took root and chopped the tomato and coriander from Mimi's blood. This information went into Damon's consciousness, his instinct as her protector, and he could not help it as the teeth took over and saved her life by chopping and binding all the harmful substances from her blood.

Even if she could not die, permanently, it would take time for her body to recover enough for her to wake up, maybe even months.

Damon woke up with his teeth still on Mimi's neck, but this was okay now. He looked at his phone. It had been two days and several calls. He left Mimi on the bed to rest because he had velveted her up pretty badly and then went to take care of his calls. 

I woke up in my bed, fit and slightly velvety. Apparently, whatever I had had had claimed the gentleman's velvet, and it was a thing. I went to shower and washed myself. Then I got dressed and went to the kitchen. All the tomatoes and chickens were gone, and plates were ready for me in the fridge.

 My restlessness continued, and I so badly wanted to do some shopping. This house was so close that I could basically walk or jog downtown, but Salvatore was the obstacle. After I had eaten, Damon came into the kitchen and came up to me, felt my stomach, sat me back down, and started shoving more food in.

I said, "I could go shopping on top of the food; I can probably get by without a ride if you have things to do."

Damon didn't even look at me when he said, "You're not going shopping. You're staying in the house. Period. "

Oh yeah. I was getting pretty damn irritated. I was not any more feeble little to thing to be protected the whole fucking time. My rage was getting out.

I said, " And why the fuck not? I'm a fucking free creature to decide where I go and when I go. You may be my doctor, but you're not my jailer yet."

As I said, my nerves were on edge.

Damon turned around and said, "You're not going. Point. Don't even try to offer that you're free because you're not unless you want to be in the hands of Krycheck or Wulfe. Try to fucking understand that you're not safe!"

Damon's voice was louder. He shouted at me. Fine.

I ate, took my rage out, let it burn out, and said, "Fine, I'll go to the gym. I'm not living now. I'm only existing to stay fucking safe."

I was furious and walked to the gym; my rage was on full display, and I started to find, beat, rage, scream, and vent my frustrations at the gym. I don't know how long I raged when Damon entered the gym.

He was wearing a sleeveless black shirt, jeans, and sneakers, and he looked at me almost condescendingly and said, "You are so sloppy when you're in a rage. Self-control would be in order, missy; I know you've fought with Adam, but what about it? Do you dare to take up the challenge?" 

I said, "Fine, let's fight then."

I attacked right away, and Damon dodged but narrowly. I'm fast, unpredictable, and vicious, and now I had rage on display, so I was a very dangerous opponent. Damon noticed it pretty soon, and I noticed his attitude change from an arrogant bastard to something much more powerful, but even more cautious. And I had no mercy.

I don't know how long we fought. Any blow that Damon landed didn't feel like it when my rage helped, and Damon again was sore on his left leg, and his right arm didn't quite work as it should have.

Then there was the time to stop. " That's it, Mimi, now you stop and just."

Adam strode up to me, his eyes yellow, and I felt him thrust his alpha power through the pack bond. I stopped and stood, and just as suddenly, Damon knocked me to the ground on my stomach and held on as I heard Adam give him something.

I felt the injection in my neck; Damon didn't release his grip at all until the drug took effect. My head became cloudy, and my vision blurred before I slipped into unconsciousness completely.

I woke up in my own bed downstairs with my head full of drugs and very lethargic. I was drugged up to my eyes, and I was trying to get my mind cleared.

Adam came into the room and said, "You and your rage. Samuel patched up Salvatore and Salvatore learned an excellent lesson in challenging you. I know you're restless not being allowed to go anywhere but it won't be many days when the Iowa house is safe and we can move in and then you can go shopping, you've slept for three days and hopefully your rage has subsided now. Damon is in the kitchen making dinner, but you probably want to shower and get dressed, and I don't know if you're still hungry since you're so drugged up."

 I nodded and said, "Yeah, I'm not hungry. I'm frustrated and nervous. I'm not always a nice little Mimi, either. Sometimes, my white-hot rage just kicks in, and it's gone."

Adam nodded and said, "Go take a shower, then eat something, and then we'll go outside and practice shooting. I've got some new pistols for you. "

I sighed and knew I just had to do it. I was still doped up as hell. Well, drugged for three days. Unfortunately, this was not the first time when this had happened. My rage, well, this was one way to put it out. I was not perfect at controlling it, not in a long shot.

Adam said, "These three are a bit like the Walther PPK, so first we have the Tokarev TT-33, then we have the Nambu M14, and last, the Sauer M38. You get to try these three as well. As a matter of fact, Damon brought these for you to study, and he is a good shooter as well, so he will teach you as well. You know how learning and shooting only develop by doing so. Here is something for you to focus on."

 I said nothing, and when I stood up. My vision was quite damn blurry, so it might take time for me to be in any shape to practice shooting.

Adam said, " And as a bonus. The drug lasts another 24 hours, giving you an extra challenge to act even when drugged; this was Damon's idea, too, and a fucking good one. The faster you can perform, even when drugged, the better you'll be able to move and maybe even escape. "

Oh, fuck, what a job. And the drug prevented me from going off in a rage. Let's take up the challenge and study this stuff, then. I showered and washed, learned to act drugged, and although it wasn't easy, I got myself washed and dried somehow.

I wondered if this was some kind of reaction to my rage, some sort of almost fear or revenge, but then again, this was actually empowering as I got myself to act, and I wasn't helpless and just lying in chains in bed so next time I could act, not just resign myself to my fate.

I didn't realize that I had no chance of even trying to escape this Krycheck thing, but I am what I am, and I started to convince myself that I had just missed my opportunity. I then went to dinner, and Damon was very particular about my food; now, there were very few carbs and lots of fatty meats and gravy. Also, coffee and Coca-Cola came in quite a bit, but I was a good girl and ate everything. 

I got fed as drugged up to my eyes, and that was a bit of a challenge, but I learned how to work it. Then we went out to the range, and I took my favorite gun, a Beretta, and a Walther PPK, which I loaded and tried to shoot. The aim was pretty good, but my reaction time was much slower, and I couldn't get as fast a shot as normal. And Damon didn't help matters, as he was a distraction.

He could have been behind me. Touch my ass, my waist, whatever and I'd be drugged, well let's just say I didn't shoot as well as I should have. Well, I started to learn about this distraction, and then I didn't let it mess me up so much as I just focused on shooting, focused on feeling the weight of the gun in my hand, making sure my grip was just right, focused on aiming, keeping my hand steady, despite the drug.

Then, once the seduction stopped working as a distraction, Damon changed tactics. He started teaching, advising, and commanding.

The strict voice next to me was relentless. " Mimi, your grip, your grip, is not right. Remember to keep that thumb in place. And your feet are not right. Your balance is off." 

Oh fuck. Well, then the gentleman had to get my feet set right, get my grip set right, and then I got to shoot. And when that didn't always go right either. There were things to say about aiming and timing. I squeezed the trigger wrong and aimed the wrong way. But I obeyed and started getting results eventually. But if I hadn't been so drugged, I might have said something back and properly.

I didn't even notice at what point Adam had left, and I was alone with this sergeant. Then, it was on to rifle shooting and long-range target practice, and we went through it all again from the beginning. This one had its own set of requirements on how I was supposed to operate and do things. Some were very similar to Adam's, and some things were completely new to me; I hadn't considered those. But I questioned nothing. I learned and obeyed when I saw what the benefits were.

Then, we had to try out the new weapons that Damon had brought. The first one was the Tokarev TT-33. It was a big monster, and I couldn't even get it to fit in a normal holster; it felt too big and clumsy. But Damon was relentless. Just because it felt big was no reason not to practice with it.

This was my life. Not being a nice little timid thing to be seduced, but a pack member to be taught. And he was strict as shit in the highest order.

Damon said, "Do you see the problem with the Walther PPK?"

I looked at him and said, "No, I guess you tell me."

 Damon looked at me for a moment and said " Look baby, the Walther PPK is illegal in America. It can't be imported, so you can get fucked if the authorities find it."

I was silent for a moment and said, " Adam gave it to me, and he didn't see any problem with it. I have a license for it, then. "

Damon sighed and said, "Permits don't always help. That's why I'm trying to find a slightly better gun for you."

I was silent and tried to concentrate on shooting this stupid thing. It was straining my hands. It wasn't as good to hold as a Beretta, and the grip didn't feel natural. Besides, my accuracy was far from well when I was drugged, and this gun might have required me to be completely drug-free, but I tried anyway.

My performance was not up to par. Damon just said that it might take time to find the perfect gun for me. It was just a matter of trying and practicing and no time to be a little prissy and complain about a gun's size or appearance. So I kept my mouth shut.

Then, the next was the Nambu.

I said flat out, "That's the ugliest gun I've ever seen."

Damon gave me the gun, and it was heavy, big, and ugly, and I tried it too. I'm so small even though I've got the strength. The gun kicks pretty hard and throws the sights off the fucking target, so it wasn't a good gun either.

Even though Damon said, "Looks don't fucking matter if it hits where it's supposed to."

But I missed my targets with it. The last one was a Sauer. It was pretty heavy, but I hit the most accurately with it of the three, and Damon put it as one of my weapons. He had a newer model of it. In comparison, the guns Adam gave me were almost from the James Bond era. It was quite a clear indication of his age and when he had gotten those guns. I guess he had no need for newer models nowadays, so much anymore.

It was getting pretty dark by the time Damon finally took me inside for dinner. I was tired, still drugged, and my arms were aching from a full day of shooting practice. But I wasn't the least bit restless as I'd been working all day. I hoped to learn and keep my temper next time. Not end up drugged practicing shooting. What next, drugged fighting exercises?