Chapter 13: A Stickup to Rule Them All Part-1

Sorry for not updating these last couple days, life got in the way, unfortunately.

All I can tell you is that North African weddings are exhausting, is it the same in your countries? 

Anyway, the chapter is roughly 2500 words long to compensate, that more than our usual 2K standard. So Drop Your Stones!

Hope you'll enjoy!

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Vampire Rule N°12: The Best among the Vampires are those who are thanked and applauded by the very people they consume.

… … … … … …

John Harker leaned against the brick wall of a dilapidated building, his hands tucked casually into the pockets of his leather jacket. He could hear the faint mumbles of business transactions, the quick exchange of cash for baggies, and the occasional nervous laughter that punctuated the night.

Every minute, someone got high, someone got scammed, someone got done.

This was an open-air drug market, one of many poisoning the blood that might otherwise sustain him, and tonight, he was on a mission.

John had a clear objective in mind. He needed to know how deep the rot went, how many corners these parasites had infected, and just how much muscle they could muster when threatened. If he was to cleanse Brideshead, he needed to understand the scale of the infestation first.

Bubbles had given him a solid idea, but it was still only from the dopefiend's point of view, the front of the operations so to speak.

It was all good if he wanted to raid some corner stash-houses; easy business, breaking a few bones and going him with a couple grands and some bags of dope he had no use for.

Standard stick-up activities, the kind of problems drug dealers expect, accept and endure easily as a cost of doing business. They might put out a bounty if they knew who did the hit, which was useless in his case since he didn't bother selling the drugs. The smarter ones started rotating the drugs and money more often while getting muscle in the houses.

That means that it was as effective in culling the drug trade as the GCPD's occasional operation.

It didn't mean shit.

If he wanted to actually do something about it, then he had to aim much higher.

Why though? Why go out of his way to damage the drug trade? Wouldn't it be better to let them operate freely then come back to mow the grass and make a few thousand bucks every once in a while?

The answer was fairly simple.

From the very moment John woke up in East End and decided to hang around, the prosperity and peace of mind of the drug dealers was doomed.

It was a natural conclusion.

A vampire feeds on blood and craves power.

Drug dealers hoard power and spoil the blood.

How could the two ever coexist?

One of them had to flee or be crushed, and John had no intention of cowering and seeking greener pastures because a bunch of fools on a drug-fuelled power trip were too much for him to handle.

'Not to mention of lucrative it would be to take over the assets of so many groups, without needed to worry about the costs of making business.' He thought, his mind already giving him ideas to launder and invest the money.

He moved silently, slipping from one vantage point to another. His senses, enhanced by his vampiric nature, picked up every whispered conversation, every furtive exchange of money for poison. The dealers operated with an arrogant confidence, as if they believed themselves untouchable.

And in a sense, they were right.

The police couldn't do anything, the bat was too focused on the big players and freaks to try and clean up the corners. Not to mention the fact that he never beat on children the way he battered the adults playing the same game.

Capes always made a point of avoiding the ugly reality of the streets, it was so much easier to break a grown man's bones after all.

Without an obvious predator, the dealers were free to grow as big and fat as they wished, only keeping an eye out for the crooked or incompetent cops or the rival gangs.

John couldn't help but smirk at their ignorance. They had no idea that they were being watched, studied by something far more dangerous than the police or rival gangs.

Each corner had its own crew, a motley assortment of lowlifes who thought themselves kings of the block. The vampire counted them, noting the way they interacted, the pecking order among them. The ground stashes were the easiest to spot—small amounts of drugs hidden in the most convenient of places, ready to be ditched at the first sign of trouble.

He didn't care much for them, stealing ground stashes was a capper, a drugfiend's game.

The corner stashes were better protected, but even there, John saw the holes in their defences. He had raided a good dozen in his short stay here, saw them go from a couple idiots playing guard to half a dozen fools with small guns and lots of bravado.

Raiding one was taking away a few days worth of money and drugs, a week at best, nothing they couldn't make up in a few days.

It was the main stashes that really interested him, though.

The places where the real money was kept, where the big players hung out, and where the drugs were cut and packaged. These were the fortresses, hidden behind the facades of legitimate businesses—a strip club here, a gentleman's bar there.

John knew that these places were more than just drug dens; they were the command centers, the heart of the operation.

He spent hours moving from one location to another, cataloguing every detail, every weakness. The more he saw, the more confident he became.

These dealers were complacent, lazy even. They had grown fat and slow, believing themselves safe in their little empire. But John knew better. He knew that in a city like Gotham, safety was an illusion, and empires could crumble overnight.

As the night wore on, the bloodsucker returned to the center of Brideshead, his mind racing with possibilities. He had seen enough to know that the local drug crews were vulnerable, ripe for the picking.

But he also knew that he couldn't rush this. He needed to be methodical, precise. A blitzkrieg was only effective if it was overwhelming, and for that, he needed more power.

The Vampire System has been a great tool, reliable, and gave him the opportunity to grow with each achievement, each bite in the neck of a worthy prey.

Maintaining a proper feeding habit, completing the Tasks and diligent exploitation of what he had availed him some solid growth.

[ Level: 4

- Name: Jonathan Harker.

- Age: 16

- Titles: Crackhouse Resident, Jailbait.

- Race: Vampire (Fledgling)

- Blood Points: 270/400

- Exp: 17/80]

Still, it wasn't enough.

His mind drifted to the hunger gnawing at the edges of his consciousness. It was always there, a constant reminder of what he was and what he needed to survive. The blood thirst. The power it promised. He would feed tonight, but not just on any blood. He had standards, after all. Virgins, healthy, competent women, and those who intrigued him—those were the ones he favoured. The blood of addicts, drunks, and sluts was tainted, polluted. He wouldn't lower himself to that level.

But first, he needed to finish his reconnaissance. There were still a few more places he wanted to check out before the night was over. He slipped into the shadows once more, his eyes scanning the streets for anything he might have missed.

Or a the presence of a nosy bat, something he has avoided so far.

The more he observed, the more certain he became that this was the right move. These gangs, these so-called soldiers, were nothing more than parasites feeding off the misery of the people.

That was something only he had the right to do.

John's lips curled into a cold smile as he thought about what was to come.

He had seen enough. Now, it was time to feed.

He needed more power if he was going to take on the drug dealers and their so-called soldiers. They had numbers, weapons, and territory. John had himself. But that was enough, or it would be, once he'd fed.

His first stop was Max's apartment. Max Black, the feisty waitress who'd caught his eye, was someone special. Max had stopped smoking, partly because he'd made her, but also because she wanted to please him, even if she wouldn't admit it.

She would also stop working and spend more time taking care of herself if he had it his way, but that would come later.

He slipped into her apartment like a shadow, silent and unseen.

If he did the same thing while being ugly, it would be a horror show, but pretty privilege was a thing and there was no doubt that many a girl out there fantasized about being his glorified sandwich.

Max was asleep, her dark hair splayed out on the pillow, her breathing soft and steady. Johnny moved closer, even without unleashing his presence he could still affect her, stirring something deep within her even in sleep. She shifted, a soft sigh escaping her lips as he leaned over her, his eyes locked on the pulse beating in her neck.

He could hear her heart beating, her warm blood flowing...he could even smell it.

John didn't rush. He took his time, savouring the moment. His hand brushed against her skin, and she stirred again, her eyes fluttering open. There was no fear in her gaze, only a sleepy confusion that quickly turned to something else as she recognized him.

"Johnny…" she murmured, her voice thick with sleep.

"Shh," he whispered, his voice smooth, almost hypnotic. "Just relax, Max."

She did, her body going limp at his command. Even without presence, or supernatural domination, she obeyed blindly and earnestly.

The perfect blood doll.

John bent down, his lips brushing against her neck, just above the artery. The hunger flared inside him, but he held it back, controlling it with iron will.

When he bit down, it wasn't a savage act. It was gentle, almost tender, his fangs sliding into her skin. Max gasped, her hands gripping the sheets as the pleasure hit her. John fed slowly, drawing out the experience for both of them. Her blood was rich, vibrant, filling him with a warmth that spread through his entire body.

[Blood Points: 330/400]

[+3 Exp Points]

He could feel the power surging within him, his senses sharpening, his muscles tightening. But it wasn't just physical strength he gained. There was something more, something deeper. It was like drinking in her essence, her life force, and it made him stronger, more complete with every gulp.

When he finally pulled away, Max was breathless, her eyes half-closed, a blissful smile on her lips. John licked the last traces of blood from his lips, savoring the taste.

"You did good, Max," he said softly, brushing a strand of hair away from her face. "Get some rest."

She mumbled something incoherent, already drifting back to sleep as he slipped out of the apartment, leaving her with only the memory of the pleasure and the rapidly fading marks on her neck.

His saliva could close the wounds his fangs caused and helped prevent an infection.

It was rather fortunate, or hunting would be much more complicated.

One feeding wasn't enough. John needed more, much more, if he was going to take on the drug dealers and cleanse Brideshead. He moved through the night, hunting with a purpose. He knew where to find his prey—his usual hunting spots, the places where he could find the kind of blood he needed.

He avoided the addicts, the drunks, the ones whose blood was tainted by their vices. John had no interest in feeding on filth.

Instead, he sought out those who were pure, or as close to pure as one could find in Gotham.

Virgins, healthy women, those who had something to offer beyond just their blood. They were harder to find, but that only made the hunt more satisfying.

His next target was a young woman he'd been watching for a while.

She worked at a small boutique in the Gotham Heights, a place untouched by the worst of the city's corruption.

She was pretty, in a quiet way, with a shy smile and a reserved demeanour. John had seen her around, noticed the way she carried herself, the way she interacted with others.

She was intelligent, cautious, the kind of woman who didn't take risks.

But tonight, she had taken a risk. She had stayed late at the boutique, working after hours, alone. John had been waiting for this opportunity, and now it was here.

He approached her as she was locking up, stepping out of the shadows with a disarming smile. She startled at first, but his presence, his aura, put her at ease.

They talked for a few minutes, the vampire charming her with practiced ease, he almost felt bad for her.

When he made his move, it was quick, almost too quick for her to notice. One moment they were talking, and the next, she was in his arms, her head tilted to the side as he sank his fangs into her neck. The shock of it made her tense, but the pleasure that followed melted her resistance away.

John fed deeply, his hunger driving him, but he was careful not to take too much. He didn't want to hurt her, didn't want to leave her weak or drained. He took just enough to sate the hunger, to feel the power surge through him, then he pulled away, leaving her dazed and disoriented.

"Thank you," he whispered, pressing a kiss to her forehead before disappearing into the night.

He continued like this, moving from one target to the next, each feeding bringing him closer to the power he needed. By the time he was done, the night was almost over, and John was filled with a power unlike anything he'd felt before.

[ Level: 4

- Name: Jonathan Harker.

- Age: 16

- Titles: Crackhouse Resident, Jailbait.

- Race: Vampire (Fledgling)

- Blood Points: 400/400

- Exp: 88/80 (Level Up?)]

With a single thought, he felt his insides turn and his veins burn as if someone had poured molten steel within them. Something unlike his previous level ups, something greater.

In a few seconds the pain left, leaving behind nothing but a feeling of increased physical power.

He had reached a new milestone in his life as a humanoid mosquito.

[ Level: 5

- Name: Jonathan Harker.

- Age: 16

- Titles: Crackhouse Resident, Jailbait.

- Race: Vampire (Fledgling)

- Blood Points: 400/800

- Exp: 0/200]

He was ready, ready to take on the dealers, to cleanse Brideshead, and to claim his territory.

The next phase of his plan was about to begin.

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Yo! It's Hamtaro!

Bubbles is in rehab, but John has been pretty busy, huh? He also finally reached that level 5 milestone, it's about time.

In case you were wondering, he got his first major physical boost (without bloodbuff) getting him from peak human with bullshit physics to slightly superhuman with bullshit physics.

He ain't no Spiderman, to be honest he ain't no Deathstroke either, but it's the start of a very twisted journey till he becomes some eldritch abomination.

His blood reserves doubled, and the Exp Required to level up also went up a lot.

Guess he'll need to eat someone a bit more important next if he wants to get strong.

Anyway, the whole Drugs Arc is about to end, so don't be stingy with your suggestions, advice and criticism! 

Hope you'll have a nice day!