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Salvatore Saga, Part One:My life with Damon.

I was once human, I got kidnapped because I had genes that one crazy scientist was looking for, and his experiment turned me into a supernatural, first lab-made super werewolf. I escaped before they got to do their experiment finish and I found my pack, run by Adam Hauptman. I had someone to protect me. Then my life came Damon Salvatore, he became my everything, my husband, my doctor, my biological half even. But he was not perfect. Inside he had an evil twin called Damien and that one wanted to torture me. he wanted to rip our love apart, to drive us apart. I grew as a woman, I became a leader of my organization, wife, and almost hero, but where I saved so many, I also lost so man. This is my story, life with Damon, our lovestory.

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21. Oops... I Did It Again.

We would now do the gigs simultaneously because we now had a manager for another team. Damon.

He approached me and said, "Baby, you better be careful. Jake will keep you safe, and you won't go solo; you'll always do the job together. I trust Jake, I'll take that Magnum, and if Sark's there, he'll take care of Sark. I'll take that Mercedes, and you take the other car."

I said, "Fine, I'll be safe, and Jake's a good guy. It's a straightforward job."

Damon grunted. I was just noticing that the car was gone, too. Well, luckily, we always have cars available at the base. Damon would leave with his crew by the time he'd collected all the supplies. It was a pleasure to watch him go through our guns so professionally, picking out a couple of guns and a fair amount of bullets for himself. 

I actually had my locker, and the look on Damon's face was worth seeing as I went to my locker, started gathering my gear, and got dressed. He and Jake lazily walked over to my locker and watched. My locker has bulletproof vests, different strengths, and safety shoes. Even armored pants if you're in for a rough gig. Jake had told Damon how to do this together, to make sure the friend put on the right gear, and he watched me. 

Jake listed everything I put on and ensured I was dressed correctly. Damon leaned against the wall and watched me get dressed. His expression was one of curiosity, even a little respect, and also pure clinical judgment as he assessed the adequacy of the protective gear. He had lighter gear on; normally, I wouldn't let anyone go to a gig in that, but the gentleman's reputation had spread so far that no one dared advise him. 

Magnum had done quite a lot of this protective gear. I took one pair of gloves with me and put a work watch on my wrist; of course, that's where the bombs were detonated from, and they were always synchronized, so we were on time. I had a receiver in my ear and a microphone on my collar.

Damon had gotten similar ones, but I had a custom-made receiver and microphone. The headset was made to fit my ear, a mold, and had sound adjustments to suit the Werewolf. We have pretty damn sensitive hearing, so not much volume is needed.

Damon took his out and coolly took a similar headset and microphone from my cupboard. He took the stronger gear out of my locker; I had some adjustable bulletproof vests, and he took one of those. He had heard what Jake had insisted I wear, and he went through my jackets. Some of them were longer, and he picked one to put on. It fit like a dream because it was a man's jacket—some I'd found to fit women.

Magnum had made some of them in my size, but then we'd always found some generic-size outfits that Magnum had improved on. There were men's models because not everything was made for women.

Damon leaned against me and said, " Think, darling, when we're married, we'll share everything; if I come to the gigs now and then, I'll probably have a key to this locker of ours."

Oh, darling, time again. He pulled me against him and rubbed my liver. Again. I said nothing. He released his grip and walked to the front door. I got all my stuff together, and I was ready for myself. I grabbed my bag from the top of the closet and went outside. 

Damon got into the car in the driver's seat, and I watched them drive off. I happily got in the back of one of the SUVs, enjoying the occasional ride, especially on the way to the gig. I like to be so focused on what's coming that I don't want any extra distractions, and we always have a driver on our team.

But Damon wanted to do things his way, so that's the way he does it. The drive was less than 35 minutes, and we arrived at our destination. We were in the building's shadow, ready to go. The interior team left quickly and efficiently. They went in through the second-floor window, and now all we had to do was wait.

Planning a gig like this takes time, and many things must be considered. First, we had to make sure the plant could be blown up. So there are clearly gas pipes or something where you can make a real bang.

We had to get our hands on the floor plans of the building and anything that would be useful: repairs, renovations, documents, and papers that had been in the building while it was in use, like just the bills, how the building had been maintained, what repairs or alterations had been made to it, including what reason it had been used and why it had ceased to exist.

It was a tiny possibility, but I had always demanded to know why the building was not in use because one time in Poland, we had gone to an old facility that had been shut down because of a chemical spill. Everybody had been in protective gear, but we hadn't. 13 people had been hospitalized because of those chemicals, and that's why I always wanted to know why. Now we had the equipment to go to those facilities. Still, we just needed to know before we went.

 More importantly, there were no victims. That's what took time and a lot. We had now been watching this site day and night with werewolves, drones, and satellites. No victims.

Then we had to look at security. What guards, fences, and security systems? I mean, were there cameras? What was the security of the facility when it was on? Whether there was any evidence of tripwires in the yard. You had to consider all the factors, and one thing that told you about tripwires was when you watched where the guards or the people were moving around. If they avoided certain places, even the grassy area relatively close to the entrance, that's one of the suspicious factors, and you just had to know that. Take that into account when planning the gig.

 It was to our advantage that this was a secret facility. They couldn't put up electric solid fences or terribly many people out. But because it was centrally located, even though there was nobody in the neighborhood, it wasn't so remote that the city government, for example, wasn't monitoring it.

Usually, what the medical facilities did was wait a few years, and if the factory or wherever they had set up shop was suitable, then this bogus company or shell company would buy the place and turn it into something, and then they would get added security.

But because the drug companies often had funding problems, they couldn't afford to publicize every hiding place because of cost. Maybe no one would sell the building or the land, and it would have to be rented, or the owner wanted to come in and show it off. 

That's why we always tried to strike before the facility started collecting security and improving everything. These were also damn hard to find. Satellites helped with that, but they didn't know everything either. The reconnaissance troops were the key word. Most of the time, the fleas were watching, observing. And then every once in a while it paid off.

We heard a beep on the earpiece that meant the Interior team had done their job, and it would soon be our turn. This was essentially an enzyme plant. So, this was looking for the same type of enzyme I had. They brought in enzyme samples from different institutions and also tissue samples, DNA was also investigated.

They were looking for new victims of various illegal experiments that had been invented. Enzymes were now the big thing, and they were being studied and refined. If there were a use for the enzyme, that would be the thing that they would go after. The donor was put up in the records to be caught if he or she was rescued from the medical facility, for example. This would also be a big financial hit because these institutions used the enzymes to make money. 

My enzyme enabled the drug company to make sure drugs were much cheaper than normal. And yet those drugs were sold at a high price, so the drug company made a sweet profit.

Those were just one old blood pressure drug, one cholesterol drug, and four different erectile dysfunction drugs, all of which were popular and expensive to make by conventional means. There were cheaper options available, too. But these were marketed and were brands that people knew and trusted.

But the money came in when the manufacturing costs dropped so low with my enzyme. My enzymes didn't last forever, so the drug companies constantly looked for new ones. I wasn't sure which enzyme it was because they had named them differently.

Samuel didn't believe in the whole enzyme theory. He told me for a long time that everybody has their own enzymes, which are partly unique. He thought it was probably just a digestive enzyme they were looking at.

I hadn't even had time to tell him about the manufacture of these drugs. I wasn't far enough along in pharmacology to fully understand the complete process, and I didn't always have time to read. I hadn't even talked about enzymes to Damon yet. I got this information when I found out new information about my enzymes at one gig. I didn't even know yet if I could get my enzymes protected. That's why I was still researching them myself. When an enzyme in my body was important to the bad guys, and if I got caught, I didn't want to be a target for enzyme collection. I didn't want to help them make money.

 Although it didn't seem so impressive now that if a few drugs could be made cheaper, then who cares, well blood pressure medicine would typically cost about $100 for 1000 capsules, so it was pretty damn expensive to make. When people could take three capsules a day plus, it required expensive equipment to maintain and service, and there was no better way to do it.

Now, the problem for the bad guys was that the doctors were prescribing cheaper drugs to people because there was often an availability problem because of that very equipment. But when they used my enzymes, the drug could be made on another machine, and it was only $3 for 1000 capsules. But they didn't tell anybody that and sold it at the regular price because my enzymes weren't a legal way to make the drug. So they got the drug on the market properly, and the money came in.

 The inside team came to the meeting place, and we went to work. We went from the front of the factory to the courtyard and into our area. I started putting the explosives in hiding so that even now, if someone walked by, they wouldn't see them right away.

We got all 26 rounds in and dropped one of the larger ones down the well. Jake had located the well and got the lid off. A very promising mass was at the bottom, and Jake pulled the heavy lid into place after dropping a good charge in. It had been drained of all the waste oils and waste fluids over the years and hadn't always been drained. We got the job done.

Then I saw a dark blue car. A tall man came out of the plant's back door, and my breath quickened. Krycheck. My hand reached for my gun, my pulse was pounding, and I could feel myself being ready for attack.

Jake coldly grabbed me by the arm and said, " Come on, we gotta blow this shit up, and now is not the time to rush in for revenge. We need to be smart now."

He showed no mercy, and I restrained myself as he listed into the microphone the license plate number of Krycheck's car and where we were. I went with Jake back to the rendezvous point. We were the last couple, and we were done.

We got to our car, and I took out my watch and pressed the button on the side of it. Explosions sounded, and one after another, bombers detonated their charges. I watched with satisfaction as the complete building went up, and flames were everywhere. That wing really shook when the charge in the well did just about as much damage as it could.

We started driving back to base. Again, the Medical Institute couldn't call for an investigation because they were now exposed. Part of this job was to leave one section completely undestroyed so that investigators and firefighters had evidence of chemicals that shouldn't have been there. And those chemicals again led to trail back to the financiers who didn't like being investigated every time there was an explosion. That job went well.

On the way there, I heard Magnum coming out of the earpiece. "Magnum to base, I'm on Kryheck's tail, I'm on the chase."

Brett from the base replied. "Base, copy. Good luck, hound dog."

The hound dog was Magnum's nickname when he was on the tail of our prime targets, Sark or Krycheck. Or whatever we were after, Magnum usually chased and killed whoever he could catch.

 We got back and to base, and although it hadn't been that long since the gig when the adrenaline wore off, it was always exhausting, but it was such good exhaustion that you knew you'd done the right thing, and I changed out of my gear at the base and made some coffee. It made me feel noticeably lighter when I got all my safety gear off. 

Damon probably wouldn't come until the morning because they had such a long drive. We had coffee and went to a diner for a bite to eat. Some of the gang left. It was 5 am, and those of us who stayed went out to eat. Four of us, myself included, had someone else doing it at that very second gig: husband, wife, boyfriend. The rest of us were in no hurry to go anywhere.

 It was more the rule than the exception that couples did their own gigs, and then some couples were inseparable, like Sapphire and Ruby. The two women were always on the gig together, and they loved each other very much.

 There were active members in the fleas, so it was we who were doing the gigs, researching, and enquiring. And then there were the so-called shadow members. They wouldn't admit to anyone that they were members of a flea club and might even publicly be against us.

But as these were senators and congressmen, they had their own advantages. The Vice President was one of them. If it came to light that there was some kind of drug or something because of these blow-ups, then these guys were calling for heads on a platter.

These guys made the noise and brought things out in the open. And the publicity was what the designated drug companies didn't want. Shadow members could give information or examples to the right of the designated satellites at the appointed times when no one would watch them and when they would be sort of on the loose.

We had the resources but were always ready to accept any help. We had to be on our toes, ready to react to every fucking thing the bad guys could do. There could always be new weapons, cameras, and surveillance systems, and you had to be on top of it.

Literally, people's lives were at stake, and I didn't want anybody to die on the job because we weren't aware of some new technology. Of course, it didn't prevent people from dying on the job. There was always that risk because we couldn't know everything, but these shadow members helped immensely.