I arrived in Portugal. I had announced to the fleas what job I was going to do. I could use the helpers for mysteries and sabotage, but we also had our own gigs, and there weren't enough people in Portugal for me to direct the Brutus pack to sabotage so effectively.
We had our own area on the dark web, and my name was The Flea Leader there. Oh, if Bran only knew. Although Brutus was more than willing to assist me, I just helped plan a few gigs and told them to do them, and then we could see. They did quite a lot of work with the Spanish side, and there were very many more gigs but few players. Spain was still quite a big country, so they had their work cut out for them without my world saving.
Fight Club was terrible. This was not a cage fight but an arena. My opponent was, of course, a division demon. I entered the arena, wearing my fight clothes again, but this time a white shirt, blue jeans, and a denim jacket. Dresden had come quickly after I had landed in Portugal, and I had taken my enchanted tracking necklace off my neck, Mimosa's orders. I didn't know then what it was based on. It was not for me to know everything, not at all.
The split demon entered the arena, nodded and someone in the audience threw a tennis ball at him so that he split before I could hit one and all the tiny pieces of the demon split around the arena and also attacked a full-grown bull that had been let into the arena. The demon's pieces enraged the bull and were very dangerous.
Where the split demon's bite had a sedative effect on humans and supernaturals, it seemed to have the opposite effect on the bull. It became rabid the more the pieces bit into it. Since this was not a cage fight, the arena was large, and I had to chase the demon pieces around.
One good thing was that they were sensitive to silver. Silver hurt me badly, too, but my fighting gear now included gloves, and the one powder Magnum had given me was silver. So, if I could throw it at the demon pieces, they would be gone pretty quickly, but the arena was vast and not that easy.
I had to watch out for the bull all the time, and when the demon pieces focused on irritating it, that meant I had to get close to the bull to get the demon destroyed, and I got a couple of good hits from the bull. I had to blast all my rage out fully to get the club through in the end.
There were some big, powerful demons in there that I used my normal tactics to chop up again. These were coming straight at me, and if I had killed the bull, then another one was released into the arena. I noticed it when after the split demon. I killed the bull directly, so when this fucking six-foot four-handed demon stepped onto the stage then another huge black bull was released.
The opponent's favorite thing was to annoy the bull on me, and I didn't always appreciate that. I'm small and fast, and the arena had a hell of a lot of room to dodge and attack. Still, I always had to look around a bit to see where the hell the bull was when twice I'd dash right in front of it and get a good attack from it so that I couldn't go on instinct and rage alone.
This was more difficult because I had to fight in a whole new way again. I was getting hit by both the bull and the opponent. I could feel it in my body. I was cursing myself that, oh fuck, what a fun gig. The first club was already feeling it in my skin.
Then there were black elves. They were sneaky and fast. But again with rage, I eventually got the upper hand and learned to kill them faster too when I knew what to do. The downside of these was that they had nasty fucking poisons, sharp daggers, and a murderous lust.
With a couple of fireballs or something like that, they made the bull see red again so that it would pounce on whoever was moving, and very often, it was me. Now, I knew that this wasn't going to be the toughest experience I'd had so far, but I persevered.
My vampire side was useful because they weren't making extra blood that fast, and the more I could draw blood from them, the weaker they got. Good bloodlust kept me motivated very soon as I saw them as meals.
But the black wizards and witches. Their magic hits now and then, and it's fucking fun to fight when you have your feet rooted to the floor. Their spells were fierce, though, and fireballs, energy balls, and silver daggers did damage to my body, but my rage didn't let them feel or even weaken me.
Every blow appeared to penetrate deep within me, causing my anger to intensify. Whether it was because our wonderful year with Damon had been traded for this or the fact that the idiotic spell had hit and sunk, it was difficult to fight when your legs were rooted onto the ground. Still, I tore my legs off with sheer willpower and threw my rage right out into the open.
Then again, they're only human, so you don't need more than one kick to the middle of the chest, and that's the game. But to get that kick to hit and strike, it takes work and hard work.
There was an added spice to it. There might be a time limit in these clubs where I would kill as many as I could in the allotted time. Still, then there were a couple of clubs where there was a set number of fighters, so the same thing that Adam had had, and because I had a reputation, I could say that the ones who wanted to take on the Flea were not the easy guys.
I got to develop quite a few new strategies as some of the dark faes who came to challenge me were dressed in flexible but effective full-body armor, and it protected the neck as well. So first, I had to break that satanic armor. The icing on the cake was that I had to kill more than just the fighters. Things weren't just so easy.
When I got the clubs all done, I still had to kill the fuckers. So these supporters on the bad guy's side then had blades, knives, and drugs that they tried to hit you with. These were near the cage or the arena, and to get out, you had to destroy everybody.
They prevented you from entering to register a victory, and it was mandatory to kill them all. Everyone was more or less armed, and there were between 20 and 50 of them. But by that point, I was pretty much out of control, and the fuckers were sweeping in front of me like grain. I tore them apart with my bare hands. At that point, I was a soulless killing machine. Enraged, I didn't care about anything as they were just an obstacle in my way. My killer side enjoyed seeing them fall dead, hands limp, eyes lifeless, bodies torn.
I took all the weapons I could get. Swords, daggers. I brought nothing to the fight, but if my opponent had a weapon that I saw as useful, I used it. But rarely. I just collected them in a sports bag. After I had killed everyone, I also collected everything I could find from the fuckers and took them to the house, to my storage. I hadn't bought a proper house in Portugal. I was on one of my bases or in a house owned by Adam. It depended on which part of Portugal I was supposed to be in. I had not learned to use any weapons like swords or staffs; I preferred to use my hands and my body to kill and my fangs. Oh, my poisons.
This job was getting on my nerves, so to speak, and I was keeping my rage open more or less all the time, so if I were on base, then no medical person would even offer to help me. They could see what mood I was in and knew I wasn't in the mood to be treated. They were pretty scared of me. No one would come to jump at my face.
I tried to eat when I could, but fight clubs wasn't the only thing I had to do. My day, if there wasn't a club in the evening, was full anyway.
There were three fight clubs in Portugal and three in Spain. However, I spent a week in Portugal and the same in Spain. The clubs were every other night, and the days went by like I was doing domino effect work.
At first, I had some absolutely killer victims, snipers, and for these, Reddington paid when I reported them dead; they had been on his lists, too. Then we had the staging. So first, we find the target. Fine. My first target was a man. A naughty man.
This man was the CEO of one of the largest pharmaceutical companies and appeared in public as a loving, faithful husband, a good guy. This was a rich man who gave money to charity. He was in the public eye, talking about human problems and how human interest is the most important thing. He was quite a popular man with the people when he let everyone see him as perfect.
Not for long. The truth would come out. This would be the one that would develop that artificial blood. And he would help create a pandemic when he would study vampires in particular.
The man was 6'4" tall, with brown hair, a friendly, trustworthy face, and brown eyes, and he looked like the perfect father or uncle. He advocated a healthy lifestyle and walked to work just to set an example, not that he lived less than a mile from his workplace.
He walked to work every day the same way. The route was along a pretty busy street with lots of schools and children's activities, as it was such a part of town. His workplace was in a tall office building just outside this school district. His route purposely went past one of the elementary schools, and there were a couple of daycares.
Because there were often families there, parents, and on the way home, he would talk to the families, advertising himself. He would intervene if kids were bullying each other and were well-liked by the teachers and daycare staff as well, exactly where I would hit.
I ambushed the man and used my vampire mind control to keep him calm. "Come on, let's go down that alley. It's all right."
The man said nothing, but followed me into the narrow alley between the two buildings. I unzipped the man's pants and gave him a large dose of a very strong erection drug I had made from my own teeth. The man had a nice erection. It wasn't huge to my eyes, but when I gave him another one that made all the hairs on his crotch fall out, it appeared bigger.
The man was in agony, and then I told him to relieve himself so no one would see. He would be in his own home. Except he wasn't.
I looked him in the eye and said," You are in your own home. Alone, no one will see. Just enjoy yourself. Remember, everyone."
Mimosa had given me some more information. I sent a man, his trousers in his legs with his dick all up, to wank outside the gate of the primary school, and he was reciting the names of women half out loud. Some of those names belonged to some kids, but they were popular names. Luckily, none of the kids saw.
There was a police station nearby, and 12 police officers who were going to lunch saw the man jerking off, facing the elementary school, in broad daylight, panting and listing several names, talking about how wonderful their mouths felt around his dick.
The cops had uniforms and cameras on them, so the man got caught and caught well. When he really wasn't a clean dove. The man had a bit of a penchant for underage girls, taking them into training and making the poor girls do Monica Lewinsky. He liked about 16-18-year-olds.
He didn't fuck them, but he made them suck his dick, take out their breasts at the same time and grope the girls. He had also paid for several girls to have breast augmentation surgery to get them to have proper breasts, and he might even want to fuck them between the breasts, and the girl wouldn't get to clean the cum off her skin all day. So the man got a lot of publicity, the girls would come out and prosecute properly, yes.
But he wasn't the only one. There were others with similar tendencies, and one man took every girl's virginity; only the most beautiful and big-breasted virgins got in. When they got a job at this prestigious law firm, again, the girl didn't get to clean up the blood after the job, but everyone there knew what the boss was doing and looked the other way.
These all came to light. They would have their own domino effect, which would have a surprising effect on a lot of things. We had to do these things because we could stop some things for sure, and there was no chance of them happening.
I did this kind of thing for quite a few victims.
It was pretty simple to just grab the victim and really set the dick up and then just stage it so that the cops could see it. Sometimes, in a public park where there were kids or even in a store. One guy I stalked into a shop, and he then went to one of the shop assistants with his dick in his hand and chased her into the wall, and started jerking off. Let's just say the guy also had a pretty big claim for damages.
Still, he was the guy who had developed the method to get the metals into liquid form at room temperature, and now, no one wondered about his intelligence because he was just a crazy pervert. Really, no defense would work because they wouldn't notice my compulsions; I was only one of my kind, my very own species, and I wasn't a turned vampire, so when they did a normal compulsion test, nothing showed up.
Then there were the mysteries. So do some weird trick and get people to flock. Well, for example, I had to do a mystery so that a certain bridge would be so crowded with people that there would be a traffic jam, which would cause a man or was actually a scientist, to miss the meeting that he was going to have with one financier. The financier would drive through this bridge.
And because that meeting wouldn't happen, a scientist wouldn't get the samples that this future virus would be based on. This bridge was the only way to get there, and this scientist who was going to meet was very insecure and delusional about the whole thing.
When no one came along, he would back out completely and not do it again because he didn't want to, and he wouldn't get in when his company had more security, and he wouldn't have access to the information. This contact would have provided the samples when he had agreed on a price with this financier, but when the meeting was canceled, he would no longer have access to the real samples.
I would have a whole gig full of such obstructions, and when the obstruction should be natural, no one would suspect anything. There had to be enough spunk in it to make it into the papers and onto the internet. People were still very much on social media, and once this thing got publicity, it would work.
It took a lot of ingenuity and a little help from Mimosa, but then we came up with a plan, and at night, when no one was moving on that bridge, I was doing some work.
Well, I got that bridge filled up by first dyeing the water in the river that this bridge crosses, then hanging the railings of the bridge full of paper notes that always had something on them. They were on long strings, and there was always a fishing expedition as people tried to get them out.
A message, a coin or two, a piece of jewelry. People were fishing for messages like crazy, and some were amazed at the orange water. I then developed a dental solution that made the water sort of sparkle and smell like oranges.
There were scientists studying the water to see how it was dyed. Samples were taken, selfies taken, and videos taken, and the bridge was completely closed to traffic after I had sprinkled studs along the road. There was a danger of blowing out a tire, and a good one at that. It was a kind of prevention of the domino effect and then again in another place to see that certain things happen.
Then there was the sabotage thing, again with the same purpose. To stop something from happening. The easiest or funniest way was to go to the intersection, remove all the traffic signs, and turn off the traffic lights. Or change the location of the traffic signs altogether, which also created pretty good traffic chaos.
You could be really inventive. These were supposed to be unexpected; these were not so much to get people moving straight away but just to cause total chaos so that traffic was stuck. There were rear-end collisions, trucks stuck because they couldn't get on.
A couple of trucks had a chemical in them that was breaking down all the time but would play an important part in the pathogen's development. It would have been discovered by accident when the chemical was marked for disposal, and they were always sampled.
Then, one man would have found a use for that chemical in that pathogen, but the traffic jams where these trucks were stuck for several hours caused the chemical to break down and become slightly radioactive and toxic so that it would be buried deep to decay.
Then there were always fight clubs every other day or so, and although I might finish the mystery at night, there might be one traffic jam during the day, a couple of kills, and then another fight club in the evening.
Adam would always put up a message in between what he was doing, but Damon would call, which was super rare. We chatted on the phone for about half an hour. He ordered me to eat, asked me about my weight and my injuries, insisted I post pictures of my wounds and then sent me a few formulas to make some dental paste to help myself.
He tried to help where he could, but I could hear the obvious frustration and the powerlessness in his voice as he advised me how to treat my wounds. Every day, he also genuinely professed his love for me, and I responded to the feeling. We didn't have phone sex because neither of us could get anything done.
After just over two weeks, I had gotten through Spanish and Portuguese. I was already driving to France. In France, there would be 15 fight clubs and nothing else. One club every night. That would take a good two weeks again.
Then I'd almost have to go straight from there to Germany, where there were even worse fight clubs. The fleas said they were the worst clubs in the world. There were 17 of them, so you'd spend a lot of time there, and they'd be about a hundred times the nastiest clubs I'd encountered going into this.
If the clubs had no rules or very few rules, then all the rules were thrown out, and, for example, the fuckers would be fucking well armed; I might be up against hybrids, and the elemental-dark fae hybrid didn't sound like anything I'd want to face.
But as long as I could get through France first. Luckily there would be nothing else to do in France because controlling my rage was fucking consuming if I had to do anything else, but when I don't have to, I can keep my rage on display all the time. I'd probably go to a house in Paris.
These clubs were bad, too. No mercy, and it would take a fuck of willpower for me to control myself so I didn't get too sloppy and get myself in even worse shape. A gig that would last over a year had only been over two weeks, and now I really knew what this was all about. I didn't allow myself to doubt my abilities at all as I drove to the Paris house.
Fight clubs, well they were simple in sense that it was really black and white. Good guy, that would be me and bad guys, opponents, we fought, and I had to win. No pressure. Not at all. There was no time to feel anything for anyone that I slaughtered and my killer side was out, and yeah, enjoyment was still there. I tried to keep my mind that these deserved this and I was getting rid of scum but those fuckers; they were gullible humans. Not necessarily evil but I still got that pleasure of ripping them apart.