34. Knowing You, Knowing Me.

Fucking club, another one done. Oh, how good it is to have the rage there, so nothing feels like it yet. But God help me, I'll feel it when I get to my German castle and start putting myself in shape. When I have to turn down the rage, but I can't afford to turn it down much because the poison in the dagger is really nasty, and I still have 12 clubs left here, and then I'll just keep on going.

No need to rest. It is wonderful to have a whole new castle, though; it is partially decorated so I have rooms to live but there is plenty to do once I get some nice free time at some point, not asking Pack to come in there. 

I'll have to dress those wounds while I have time. I have those new wound dressing materials from my latest order, in my car, so I will need them, with that new super honey, which suits me too. It will help stop or cure possible infections. They weren't cheap, but I am rich as hell.

I had a few other things for my wound care, a few novelties in the medical field in my car as well, but I would dress my wounds at the castle. I had just picked up my order before heading here, so that was the reason why they were in my car. Things will progress too when not teleporting, but driving to the castle. There's always time for them to heal still, as long as I take one of the healing boosters in the car.

I was keeping myself together, but oh my god that Damien, all the time talking was getting to me and that guy really loved his voice, no matter what body he inhabited. It was like he was not Damon's identical twin, as I had never seen or heard Damon have this need to talk.

But maybe it was because he had put inside Damon, his voice had been silenced for centuries and now it all came out, but I did not want to be his audience and I hoped he would soon find some other victim to be taunted and to be talked to. 

I did wonder where Damien disappeared to, though, when he was up half the night fucking with me about how he was going to catch me today of all days. I was damn tired, but I knew that this was no time for me to be tired. I managed to change my clothes and put all my weapons back together again. I've got quite a collection of these over the years.

It had become a habitual routine for me to collect everything my opponents possessed and store them away. Time and Adam had taught me this, as Adam had initially instructed me to take everything with me when I left the cage. In those days, weapons were not as fancy or abundant as they are now.

So, I had a separate bag where I would gather my weapons and any other belongings I acquired from those fuckers. As I retrieved everything from their lifeless hands and emptied their pockets, I felt nothing. I didn't see them as humans, only as victims. Sometimes, I would find contact information or money on those bastards. I took it all.

As I gazed at the pile of swords, daggers, and various weapons, I let out a sigh. I knew I would have to stash them away in storage again, along with my assortment of drugs in the medbay. In my castle, I had quite a collection of syringes filled with unknown substances. I used to store them in a special fridge, ensuring their potency until I could analyze their contents. I also had jars filled with drugs, which would find their place in my large fridge as well.

Being the unique creature that I am, one can never predict how a particular drug will affect me. It would be yet another project for me to tackle.

I wearily ran my hands through my hair, feeling the weight of the countless projects that seemed to consume my life. These projects existed only in my mind, yet they exerted a certain pressure on me to do more. There was no time for me to relax, to lie on a hammock and simply sleep. Instead, I carried this mental list of projects, constantly reminding me of what I needed to accomplish. But first, I had to save the freaking world.

I overheard Damien telling Sark how he had injected me with various drugs, and yet here I was, wide awake. He theorized my pack must have used a CPAP machine. They had subjected me to torture. Damien had been forced to torture me. He confirmed to Sark that it had been a part of his plan all along. The revelation gave me an unexpected boost.

Now, he had disappeared somewhere, and I had little interest in discovering his whereabouts. All I wanted was to escape from this place, return to my castle, and patch myself up for whatever challenges lay ahead. 

In the dimly lit fight club hall, I relished in the silence of Germany, where there was seemingly nothing else to do. Exhaustion washed over me, and I felt the lingering effects of the poison coursing through my veins. Wisely, I had not indulged too much in the division demons' blood, fully aware of its impact on me.

Though my fangs had seen little action in these fights, I had found some enjoyment. Today alone, I had encountered three of those damn division demons, their bites leaving me affected for days. There was no antidote to their poison, only my own seething rage, which I was reluctant to expend needlessly.

Gathering my belongings, I made my way out of the cage, the echoes of my footsteps reverberating through the hall. I maintained a posture of arrogance, concealing my exhaustion and pain from the outside world. As I approached the doorway, a figure emerged from the shadows, blocking my path.

Partially shrouded in darkness, they exuded the scent of passionfruit. I feigned surprise, though my expression remained neutral, my boredom palpable. I had no desire for this person, Damon, to come here and dictate my actions. I was here to work, not to play.

In a low, steady voice, Damon spoke. "Now, Mimi, it's time to temper that rage and come with me. You're injured and in need of treatment. The pack is aware of the situation, and I can assure you that you won't be participating in any more fight clubs in Germany. Adam and Charles will take care of that. As for Sark and Damien, Dresden and Magnum have them preoccupied. I won't repeat myself, Mimi. Calm down."

His tone was patronizing, treating me as if I were an unruly child. Fatigue weighed heavily on me, making it difficult to maintain my usual composure. I was tired, injured, and unwell, but even in my weakened state, I was determined to fulfill my duty. Despite Adam and Charles' skill, I didn't want them to take my place in the fight. I wanted to protect them by shouldering the burden myself.

With a weary sigh, I responded, "Thank you for handling those two, but I'm fine. The wounds may look severe, but I must go. The world-saving work I'm doing requires unwavering commitment. I have quite a drive to my new castle, Damon. Did you know I own a castle here in Germany?"

I wanted to swiftly conclude this and move on, leaving this fool to engage with Mariella and forget about me. I was fully prepared to handle him in a weakened state, knowing he posed no threat to me, so I could continue with my task. I deliberately withheld the address of my castle, not desiring his presence there.

I had no intention of inflicting severe harm, just enough to incapacitate him and allow me to get back on track. I observed Damon's expression tighten, anticipating the confrontation that awaited me. All I needed to do was utter a few words. I could push him to his breaking point, causing him to teleport and indulge in Mariella, setting me free to pursue my objectives.

If that failed to occur, then it would be time to snap his neck. Of course, my injured, fatigued, drugged state, combined with my overwhelming rage, hindered my clarity of thought.

Damon took a few measured steps closer, his icy blue eyes piercing through me with an icy gaze. He refused to back down, sensing the challenge within my gaze. I never considered that he would possess the ability to foresee my violent intentions or expect my actions.

Softly, almost like a hissing whisper, he uttered, "Oh baby, go ahead. Give me a few sentences to fuel my actions. Motivate me further. If you don't behave like a reasonable adult, you'll face the consequences."

I clenched my jaw, suppressing my rage as best I could. I needed to pacify him, avoiding any unnecessary attention and ensuring my progress remained documented. Let's see if I can also manage his behavior.

I replied, "Alright then. That's all I can offer if you want me to be able to act. I require my rage to function properly. Shall we proceed now? I'll retrieve my car later. I have wound dressing supplies and medical novelties in there as well."

Damon regarded me with a gaze, and remarked, "Oh, it's a shame you didn't accept the challenge. But let's retrieve your car so I can move it. And baby, I'll gladly make use of those wound dressing supplies, and it will be my decision whether they're used to you."

I exited through the back door, or rather, the door reserved for combatants, and observed as the light above the door turned green, revealing a flurry of activity on the scoreboard. I knew that my reputation would soon precede me, making things more difficult, and potentially overwhelming Adam and Charles.

I needed to be prepared. Approaching my light ice blue metallic shimmering Mercedes Benz, Damon followed closely behind.

He glanced at the car and commented, "Oh, pleasant choice. Another new SUV, perfect for a smooth drive."

Then he came right behind me. I was digging my keys from my pocket when I felt his body heat and his hand touching me. He touched the hair on the back of my neck, and then nothing.

Damon tightly embraced Mimi, feeling the weight of her body in his arms as he expressed silent gratitude for the Magnum ring. The tension in the air was palpable, as Ms's rage simmered beneath her controlled facade. Magnum had not only gotten a generous payout but also gifted Damon with a new ring, a symbol of protection. Another was with a powerful laser which he used to cut Mimi's spinal cord. It would be strong enough to sear it, so healing would take a little time. 

As Damon contemplated the possibilities of a different outcome, he couldn't help but overhear the young lady's sinister plan to snap his neck. Determined to ensure their safety, he swiftly teleported both himself and the car to a house in Berlin, though unfamiliar with the location. He used Mariella as an anchor. There was no time to take in the surroundings. 

With urgency, Damon gently laid the unconscious Mimi on the hospital bed and secured her slender limbs with spiked cuffs, ensuring they dug deep into her wrists and tightly fastened with springs. He knew that the moment she regained consciousness, her rage would resurface. 

In preparation, he hastily concocted a potent cocktail from the medicine cabinet, anticipating Mimi's awakening. Holding the cocktail ready, he inserted it directly into her heart, patiently waiting for her heartbeat to activate the drugs that would keep her sedated. Until then, no one dared approach her, aware of the danger she posed. 

Once the drugs took effect and her heart began its rhythmic cadence, Damon, with his telepathic abilities, confirmed her unconscious state. Carefully, they removed Mimi's clothes and scanned her, revealing the need for surgery. Mariella possessed the skill to extract the many metals and compounds embedded within Mimi's body, a crucial step in facilitating the healing process. 16 of them. Quite a catch.

Meanwhile, Damon busied himself with setting up the operating theater, ensuring a sterile environment. Another team member retrieved the necessary supplies from the car, subject to Damon's meticulous scrutiny regarding wound care. 

Mimi underwent a complete internal overhaul, with every organ requiring replacement because of infection and toxins. Damon decided for Mariella to serve as the donor, sparing Mimi from depleting her resources. He also took measures to inhibit organ multiplication. 

Post-operation, Damon would personally attend to Mimi's wound care, ensuring her recovery was as smooth as possible. 

Damon could sense the simmering rage within Mimi, knowing that it could have propelled her through the entire mission. However, now she didn't have to rely solely on her own strength. The pack was there to assist her.

As Damon began dressing Mimi's wounds and examining them, the scent of the lingering infection filled the air. The antibiotic treatment was already on its way, leaving them in a precarious situation.

Mariella had taken all the weapons to the magic house, but Damon informed her that Mimi had hidden more. With a spell, Mariella could locate a plethora of weapons, causing a buzz of excitement within the magic house. These ancient and potent weapons, some of which had been stolen, were now returned to their rightful owners. Among them were numerous daggers and swords, thought to be lost forever.

Adam and Charles, along with number two, were tasked with going through the remaining clubs. Mimi, weakened by her injuries and the infection, was receiving treatment intravenously. Damon chose not to restrain her with chains, as it would only strain her already compromised system.

He didn't keep her under deep anesthesia all the time, as she needed to gradually recover. Damon hoped that by not being bound, Mimi would remain calmer and not resist the drugs and treatment. The last thing they needed was for her panic to cause her to dismantle the antibiotics with her sheer willpower.