But work takes its toll, and I was in a fantastic mood when Damon came to the door of our base as I was about to leave to continue my journey. We had had a few superb blows against Sark; we had saved over 800 people on four missions spanning four weeks. Now I was busy at work still and I was about to get to do something whole new to me, the thing I had actually wanted to try for a while.
He saw me in my tactical gear, armed up to my teeth. Even on this mission, I would be in a place where I would have to shoot anyone, or at least I hope so.
He said, "You're a hard one to reach then. I've even tried to call you a dozen times, and you don't answer. Luckily, Magnum knew to let me know you were okay. What on earth have you been up to, and why aren't you at the gigs with Adam? I have now dealt with my targets, so I am free, but it seems you are not. "
I said, " I am not. We are on a roll. We have been doing a lot of work, saving 800 people from four Sark facilities. Because we got busy doing gigs at a warehouse, and we got a lot of stuff there, and Adam said this stuff is safer than chasing witches. I'm about to blow up one of the big facilities for the first time in my life with a bazooka, and you want to come with me and see how your wife handles a good bazooka?"
Damon raised his eyebrows and said," Bazooka, really. What are you planning to take down? Why not use explosives like normally,"
I sat down, sighed, and said, "You know those shuttles, and tables from warehouses, the ones you had ordered to put in one big warehouse and take apart, well I have been chasing because Damien used those on me, meaning he has gotten them probably from our warehouses, but I have now a facility in my sights where Sark's people are modifying them. They were supposed to be originally some sort of novelty in the medical field but they are modified to be torture devices, so that is one big facility, easier to take down with explosives and bazooka too. Guys will go and put charges around the facility and once I fire the bazooka, it will blow up the whole place up in the air."
Damon sighed and said, "Fine, I'll come with you and shoot that facility down with that bazooka. Women don't touch that stuff. You can be sure of that. And where did you get them? Those bazookas I mean. You are too tiny to handle bazooka, I know, and I guess you have used the boss card to make boys obey you on this. "
The spoilsport won't let me shoot, but this was an important plant to bring down. I quickly showed Damon the details of the gig as we were just leaving, and he went through them with a frown. He couldn't find anything wrong with it. Jake came over and greeted Damon like they were best friends. At that point, I decided not to tell Damon right off the bat about Jake and me having a fun time a long time ago. Years already, time flies really.
Damon knew that probably Damien had gotten those shuttles from Mimi's warehouses and he tried to find in his memories and mind how he had gotten them, how long now, and where they were. If he had only told Mimi in the first place about those devices, he had no idea why he hadn't ordered Jake or Rob to tell Mimi about them. And what Mimi had been through in them. His fault, as he was too weak to control Damien and himself.
What if Damien was some warped part of him? Powerful part and this whole renaming was some twisted way to manipulate Mimi. He was not sure about anything. He remembered Mimi's memories, all the times that she showed him how Damien was not him, but why did he remember what Damien did? Partially at least, and he had felt it too. Those feelings of victory when Mimi was lying battered, tortured, broken, and sick.
As Damon blamed himself, Damien woke up, he had been forced to sleep since the Azores because Mimi's and Damon's love had struck him hard again. He was jealous of that, too. He wanted Mimi for himself. Mimi had become more or less his obsession, he envisioned in his mind how one day, he could get his own body, kidnap Mimi, and torture her, but it would make her stronger, he would then help her recover, conditioning her with the help of drugs in the same time.
And finally, Mimi's belly would swell with his children. Their children. He was sure that it was Damon's fault somehow that Mimi miscarried always, that Damon had done something to her. But he would fix her. He would torture her, weaken her, enjoy the same time, and then help her recover, over and over again, until Mimi would be deep in Stockholm syndrome. Her feelings for him would be real and deep. But first. That love, needed to be destroyed. And this trust too. Damon's trust in himself, Mimi's trust in Damon. He was ready, oozed from his hiding place into more surface, corrupted Damon's thoughts, and finally got onto the surface, but hid his scent so Mimi would not understand.
We left for the mission and Damon was quiet in his musings while I concentrated on the mission ahead again. Well, when Damon would shoot a bazooka, I would go first and put the charges in the critical spots to make sure that the whole place would blow up in a big way. I sat on the backseat, next to Damon. He had not even put any gear on him as he would go behind the plant, on a hill, high enough so he could get an excellent shot. Distance would be that it would take half a minute bazooka to hit the target but it would colossal blow.
Of course, we would do little framing too, to ensure that this would be felt by the bad guys and, more importantly, Sark's allies, the ones who would give him certain chemicals and these devices too, and so many other resources. When we got heat on these guys, so that authorities started to look at them more carefully, they would not give out those chemicals so easily as they would be more monitored by the government and authorities too.
It was interesting how these explosions happened, and there was always evidence of the mishandling of chemicals and stuff. This would be an enormous blow as these hell machines would be blown to pieces, and I hoped that no more victims would have to go through what I had gone through in them. In Damien's hands.
There were even a couple of lawsuits when there was enough nasty chemical that could be reliably traced, and there was good evidence that it hadn't been stored properly. And it would lead to investigations, more lawsuits wrong kind of publicity, now was the time when humans knew about these evil medical facilities and when one would be linked to that kind of activity, let's just say that their stocks would plummet, no one would want to have anything to do with them. Layers would have field time to find fresh charges to be filed, judges would show no mercy, and there would be very often witnesses come forth to tell their stories.
I was now actually making a difference. I sighed in my mind. Would Brutus be proud of me, a mere flea? What would he have done when the truth about Damien came out? I missed Brutus, and others, so much so, even Ruby and Penn. At least they are alive. Ruby is a vampire and Penn is still human, but he drank years of my blood, so he would live much longer than the average human. I missed Burt too. I hoped he had found peace and was now with his dad and mom. My fault. I put my people every day at risk, just because they were linked with me, they worked for me, and that made them targets for Sark. How many would die because of me?
Jake and Rob had a unique way of getting me out of my funk and self-blame. First, they would make sure that I ate, and after that, they would take me to sit by the computer and show me, just how many random deaths happen every day, whether it is a drive-by shooting, car accident, drowning when drunk, or something else.
They would remind me that everyone here is part of the bigger picture. We have cause and it made people feel that they were part of making a difference, that their lives had meaning and purpose, and that they were fulfilling it. And if this didn't help, then a bunch of random fleas would come and talk with me, telling me about their lives before fleas and now, and I would see how dedicated everyone was.
That usually did the trick, one guy, his name was Frank, we had a lot of guys called Frank in our bases and it was sometimes hilarious if I called Frank, all five of them would happen to be around and would come to me unless I would give them nicknames or something to indicate who I was talking to. Well, Frank was older, about 55 years old, and I had given access to everyone who wanted to drink my blood. Most of them did, but not Frank.
He told me how he had once had a family, a wife, and three daughters. But in his family, they had a genetic disease, heritable disease and he was a carrier, but so was his wife, and they had no idea. So this disease would strike when the child was about two or three, it was messing up their cellular balance, poisoning them, causing them to retard, get sick, and never live to the age of five.
They had triplets, and each of them was sick, he and his wife had to go through that, to witness how powerless they were, and how much those children suffered before dying and he and his wife knew they would never have a biological child because the same thing would happen.
His wife had left him and found another man, who was not a carrier, so no children got sick. She got pregnant soon after. Frank had started to drink. His life was nothing. All he had wanted to do was have a family and take care of his children, and wife.
Frank did not want to find another woman. The death of his children haunted him, the feeling of powerlessness haunted him, and his life had meaning, nothing at all. He worked in the factory; he had no one in his life. Then he saw on TV how they saved me. He saw Adam's and Samuel's, even Damon's TV interviews, and something woke him up.
He got on board with fleas and he found again the meaning of his life. He was a demolition expert and with his help; we got a lot of done. But he was a carer too. He watched over me, made sure that I ate, and took breaks. Franks's story was just one of many, stories about loss, desperation, and acceptance that he could never have what he wanted the most.
But he did. Every time we had rescue where there were children involved, these were usually homeless, orphans, and difficult-to-find places to be, Fran took them to live with him. He had the big house, and he helped them, healed them, and took care of them, and then when it came time to get those children into foster families or adoptive families, Frank evaluated everyone, he made sure that those children would get the best place possible.
He told me he would die on a mission tomorrow or someday, and he would die as a happy man, he had done his part and thought of living at age over hundred when his body would get frail, and old, he would not be able to do what he wanted, that was not the future that he wanted. It was kind of new to me because I would never get old, never permanently helpless, dependent on others losing my ability to function and maybe even my memories. Dementia and Alzheimer's were still actual diseases that plagued so many humans. Stark reminder to me how I was not human anymore, not at all. I was my own species. The unique one.
We arrived on the scene. I was woken out of my reverie and I gathered my supplies. Damon would be on the other side of the facility from me and would fire a rocket launcher when it was all clear. Damon exited the car, went to get that rocket launcher, and disappeared without a word into the shadows.
I put the drone in the air, and we went over the whole place one more time. There were no guards, no cameras in there where I would go. I took my explosives with me. Damon had already gone to his position.
I took off and dashed to where I was supposed to be and had three of the six rounds in place when Jake's voice in my microphone said, " Get the fuck out, fucking Salvatore shot in advance, get the fuck out of there."
I dashed at the speed of a vampire and cursed in my mind. The entire facility was destroyed to some extent, not as completely as I would have liked. A series of explosions boomed at night, fires lit up the dark night sky. I had just gotten out of there. Oh fuck, there had better be a damn good reason for that stunt, and I wouldn't take him to the gig now, but the gentleman had left as soon as he'd done his deed. Fine. I got to the car, we could hear firetrucks coming. I hoped what he had accomplished would be enough for today, and would be a big enough blow to Sark.
We returned to base and found a wallet and a phone in my locker. Oh, fuck, how mature. There was the subtle scent of a wet dog, and I cursed long and hard.
Then Jake came and said, "What's the matter?"
I said to him, "That was not Damon, that was Damien, here, smell this, wet dog, and I noticed nothing. God damn it, how in hell am I supposed to see when that damn parasite is on the surface?"
Jake was silent. He smelled the wallet, but he could not smell the wet dog. Yet another complication. Now, this scent was very subtle. I had smelled nothing in the car, meaning he could hide his scent.