I went to America myself, to a mansion in Pennsylvania, and I continued the flea organizations from there. I heard rumors that Damon had been seen in the Middle East with vampire women, but I didn't give a damn. What am I supposed to do with him when he doesn't want to be with me? So, fine? I'll just go without.
I concentrated on my fleas, and now I was doing gigs. I had a couple of tight spots and one time; I escaped from a medical facility after being there for three days. But when I got back to the base, I should be fine, was part of my role.
It was a small facility, and when I was in a rage all the time, I was in a really fierce mood and didn't listen to any arguments. However, there were none as Magnum was still on leave, Adam was Bran's lapdog, and the others were more or less afraid of me when I was in a rage, especially when I exploded six times and screamed at the top of my voice in a couple of bases when things didn't go the way they should have. These idiots didn't understand a thing.
So after I announced I was doing this gig on my own, everyone was quiet and nice and went off to do their own thing. I went near the facility and didn't assume there was even a proper guard, so I didn't put the drone in the air, had a good look around, and started running across the yard to get to the shadows for safety.
The last thing I remember was running across the yard, and the next thing I knew, I woke up in shackles in a hospital bed, very sore all over, my body covered in bruises and stitches, and my head all drugged up. But my rage was so great now, and I busted it open, tore myself loose, and escaped.
I didn't even kill anyone as I broke one window and ran off into the woods in the scrubs I'd looted. I briefly went to the nearest safe house when I found it empty, drank Damon's blood, plucked out the stitches, swallowed Colin's strong antibiotics and dressed, took the car and drove to the base, had the team destroy the facility, and said nothing about it.
Two jobs, well, I barely got away with those, but I lost a couple of people there, and it was tough. Some of them were and would be that they didn't always end so well for everybody, but I set up a fund and made rules whereby anybody who died on the gigs and their families were looked after and compensated. I hoped that the fund wouldn't have to be used much.
The first gig was in Ohio and it was one of the enzyme plants, here they were studying different enzymes and their uses as Sark had found in me one very useful enzyme and we had found the information about it in one of Sark's plants so they were targets as well. I had tried to study the enzyme thing myself as I remembered and had even sampled myself on the subject.
There were six of us: me, Timothy, Jackson, Jethro, Donald, and Lizzie. I was to be on the inside team. Go into the facility and collect the data while Tim, Jackson, and Donald cleared a path for the three of us inside. I wasn't watching everything, and Donald and Jethro were lazy and just put on lighter vests. Magnum had made new ones, too, and they were a bit heavier but a lot safer.
I had already blown up at one base about it, and they had believed me at one time, but I couldn't always be a babysitter and make sure everyone was wearing the right gear.
We drove near the facility. We got out of the car and took a short walk through the woods before we came to the back of the facility. Lizzie cut a hole in the fence, and security went first, and we waited. Then we heard a whistle. Three notes told us it was clear.
We quickly ran behind the building, climbed up the fire escape, and found the window where there was no alarm. I cut a hole in the window and went inside. Everyone went about their business, and my job was to find the data while Lizzie made sure there were no victims and Jethro searched for samples.
We would destroy most of them, but if there were small sample containers, we usually took them, as well as any drugs. I went into the archives and started going through files, computer hard drives, and laptops with me.
There wasn't usually a lot of them; there was always a paper folder; no matter how many computers there were, I took all the tablets I could find; we had our own hacker department to go through them. I was in the third archive when I heard the shot.
Jackson cursed and said to the mic, "Guards, flea leader, coming your way."
I replied, "Roger that. I'm ready."
I took out my gun and my Glock and prepared to fire. I put on the silencer, and I was in a dark room. I opened the door. There were at least 12 guards, and they were dragging the now unconscious Jethro with them.
The door creaked open, and the guards turned around. Shooting at me. I returned fire; it took several minutes, and they had left Jethro in the middle of the floor after pulling into another room.
I said to the comm, " Jethro's been hit. Who the fuck didn't bother to put on the right vest again?"
Lizzie said, "Flea leader, I'm on my way. Hang on."
I just flicked the microphone to signal that I had heard. Jethro had been hit in the stomach, and these old vests always ran out too short when it was a taller person as he had been; a new vest would have protected enough when they were of different sizes.
I cursed in my mind that I must fucking be a fucking babysitter then. By the time a couple of minutes later, Lizzie came in and gave me the fire support, so I got six guards killed. Jethro's heart had stopped, and he was dead. I had no chance to get him to safety when these guards had tasers, tranq guns, and very strong handguns.
I was so fucking angry, and I blasted out my rage as we walked out of the facility. The yard was swarming with guards, and I saw one taking aim at Lizzie. I jumped in front of the bullet. I got an excellent, very painful shot in my arm, but my rage kept the pain away; I saw Donald lying on the ground and the same fucking thing, dead and just his own laziness.
I got us out of there. I shot as much as I could, putting myself between the bad guys and my team members. Then, it gave me extra motivation to get out of there when a big SUV with several more men came out. I saw Krycheck get out of the car, and I quickly pulled my team to safety.
We now had the data and samples. Timothy and Jackson blew up the building, and Krycheck wasn't inside at that point; I saw him get in his car and drive away. The trip to the base was quiet as I had my rage fully unlocked.
Then, when we got there, I took everyone who was there and let it burn.
I hadn't even taken off my clothes or any equipment when I said, " Here's the thing, I don't like to repeat myself, but two were lazy today and put on their old vests, and now I have to make two phone calls and tell the terrible news to their relatives, this is no fucking place where you fuckers are lazy, there is no point in being lazy and getting yourself killed. If you cannot do as I have once said, then get the fuck out of here. I don't want to watch you get yourselves killed for your own convenience."
I turned around and went to undress, then went to my office, showered, and changed my clothes. After that, I labeled them dead, made long, hard, very nasty phone calls to their families, and told them how the compensation was coming. Both of their families berated me, and I totally understood that it was my responsibility to make sure everyone was as fucking safe as they could be.
But then, when I transferred to New York in a week, it was the same fucking thing all over again; this time, we were trapped. This was a medical facility where there were victims, and when the destroyers had found a way in, we were trapped when the doors were suddenly locked and the windows were netted.
Nothing to it, but this was a Sark facility, and Sark had been seen here. Now, I lost two destroyers as they again hadn't put on every piece of equipment, and there were mines in the yard. If they had had the Magnum developed full body armor under all their gear for shock absorption, it would have protected them enough to have a chance of survival, but not when it was so fucking rare that there were mines anywhere.
This popped my rage open all over again, and I took my rage out on one of the sturdy doors, breaking it enough to wrench it open, and we escaped. We couldn't get it down as we now had to escape.
I took three hits to my vest on the way, right in the middle of my upper stomach, and it felt. The vest didn't let the bullets go through, but the impact was really hard, and I felt bruised inside.
I screamed to everyone again when I got to the base, did my job and this time I told the relatives what had happened. They didn't blame me, and they, too, wanted to get revenge on the sark. I gave them time to grieve but told them how to get in touch while they got the funeral and stuff.
I went to shower and found my entire stomach was black; I didn't care. I knew I would get better in time and get on with my work. I moved on to North Dakota next. There were also Sark facilities, and now I was determined to take them down. My rage was still pretty fucking intense.
Then, I was quite surprised when I ran into Jake. He had already come along and was a very competent man in his position. I went to the base and didn't pay any particular attention when I started planning the gig.
I had my rage pretty well on display so the others could see I wasn't in a good mood, and I was scary for everyone; no one dared to object to anything, but Jake didn't. He knocked my plan right out of the park. He wasn't scared of me, and he could say it straight in my face.
I started thinking about it and saw he was making sense. When I had first tried to stare at him with fury on display, he was coldly leaning against the wall, looking at me dead on but not avoiding my gaze, not even when I flashed my headlights, so he got some sense into me, and we then did the plan another way.
He showed everyone directly that with me; be brave and firm and not let me threaten anybody with my headlights because I would fight nobody; I just had rage on display.
He planned a lot of gigs, then he spoke to Magnum on the phone about some safety equipment, and when he heard what had happened, he took it upon himself to make sure the equipment was right, and then I did the first time we went to a gig together.
It was a blowup gig. I could have done it on my own, but no. According to Jake, there are no solo gigs because backup is the best security. I collected my equipment. He went through it carefully and thoroughly. When I chose the explosives I had to justify and experience alone was not enough, he taught me a few things about explosives.
When we went to the gig, he had been my backup, and now I couldn't run at vampire speed from place A to place B as we went, so Jake went first and checked with the drone if there were any mines or anyone on the roof. Then only when the route was clear, we went ahead. When I was setting the explosives, he came and set them a little higher up where he could reach better than me. And I was WTF for a while but then I realized that I'm not always automatically right and even if I know my stuff I can always improve.
We got the job done, and Jake said to me straight up, " You, Mimi, are a risk to the rest of us if you keep your rage on display like that; everyone is wary around you, and no one dares say anything even though there might be a reason, so take that into consideration."
I replied, " Fine, thank you for saying it; I know I've been roasting on rage for weeks, but when my life is, what the fuck it is?"
Jake listened as I told him what Damon had been doing to me for a week, he understood when I told him a bit more about my background and the more I talked about Sark the more convinced he was that my judgment was thrown and badly what came of Sark.
He made me make a rule that fleas have no hierarchy, i.e., I couldn't assume that everyone would automatically obey without question when Jake gave back to me. We did a few gigs together, and he told me straight up where I wasn't at my best and wanted to be better; I learned to control my anger even better, to rationally justify my position, and to listen to others.
Doing gigs like this was something new, which again gave me a whole new perspective. When we were planning a gig as a group, there could be up to over ten of us. We could go to the bar for drinks, joke around, talk about anything.
The fleas became my friends, my mates. And even though part of me knew it would be good to keep my distance and just be the boss, I didn't want to. Now I wanted connection, companionship, and a sense of belonging. It was all new to me and, therefore, wonderful.
We formed a core group, my trusted friends. There were a lot of really lovely people there. We did the gigs we planned. These were the guys I counted on, not for my life but for my safety, time and time again.
Jake was on quite a few gigs, and he didn't hesitate to take me to safety, to let him, protector or destroyer, do his thing when I often had another role. He wouldn't let me jump in front of bullets.
I'd never experienced that kind of togetherness, that kind of trust. These guys, when you'd be at gigs, these guys would never go off in the middle of a fuck or a disappearing act saying nothing. These always finished the gig and did their job really well. There were probably less than 40 of them, but I had a pack, the most different pack I'd ever experienced.
Then again, more information came in, and I went to investigate myself. I had to go to Africa. I'd never been there before. Jake went off to tour America with Magnum. The two of them got on brilliantly, and Jake believed that I should never tell Damon about our bedtime stories I hadn't intended to.
Jake also confessed that he was engaged and not free as such. I got Harrison to do a couple of big jobs in Europe. I knew he'd get them done, even if it took him a while.