Yo! It's Hamtaro!
The Pro-Ghoul won the vote with an overwhelming majority, and so it shall be that John can create Ghouls; slightly superhuman familiars who consume his blood every once in a while to stop ageing, gain a measure of power in exchange for total loyalty.
Chapter is 2500 words long by the way, a bit longer than usual to compensate for yesterday's pint sized chap.
Enjoy the chapter!
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Vampire Rule N°10: Ghouls are your blood-bound servants, nearly as frail as humans yet unflinchingly loyal and capable of doing your bidding during the day.
. . . . . . . . . .
'Everyone is a slave.' John thought, sitting at his usual spot in the diner under the curious gaze of the few customers and the blonde waitress who took over Max's shift.
It might sound cynical, but it was the truth.
A man was nothing but a slave who gets to choose his masters.
Some grow up to become the slaves of money, waking up everyday and going to sleep every night thinking about it, sacrificing their time and energy and whatever morals they value in the name of the dollar.
They would laugh and pity those who counted and hoarded each dime instead of using their wealth, not knowing they worshipped the same master.
Others were slaves to their desires, they lusted until their eyes went red and their brain rotted, until they could only see skin and flesh and filth.
Poor Bubbles was slave to the needle, he chased that high with religious fervour and treated the corner as his prophet, following it's teachings to letter.
Even John was a slave, despite shedding his humanity when he drank that first drop of blood bursting out of his would-be killer's mangled throat.
He was the slave of his blood thirst, the slave of that drive for control and power that shaped every facet of vampiric life from the violent to the most intimate, he might even the slave of that system and it's lures.
The sticks and carrots built to make his life as interesting as possible.
So what is it so bad that he treated others as property?
Bubbles arms wouldn't so bloated and covered in abscesses and dead veins if he had been his servant.
He would have status and health and a measure of wealth a prosperity, one week following his orders and he already had a car and more than a thousand dollars...soon, even his addiction will be a thing of the past.
Max wouldn't need to humiliate herself serving mediocre food to irritating customers.
She would live a life of leisure and safety. No more would she worry about money and rent and how to put food on her table, she would be cared for and valued, given all the tender affection and wild passion she desired, the time to pursue her hobbies and dreams.
They would have more freedom under his grasp than this greater 'free' world ever allowed them.
In that case wouldn't it be a favour to acquire them? Wouldn't it be an act of kindness and justice?
So what if he needed to break someone's bones to make things right for Bubbles? So what if he needed to push Max's boyfriend on a path of self-destruction?
The brunette sat beside him, having long since finished her cake and didn't think twice about stealing bits and pieces of his own chocolate pie.
She was still so full of doubt and guilt and that adorable confusion of a lost lamb.
But even then her hand was still firmly holding his, as if she feared that he might run off and abandon her like everyone else in her life did.
'Adorable,' He smiled warmly, burning some blood to unleash his presence and give her that feeling of safety and wholesomeness she needed.
The ends did justify the means.
And if the means gave him the twisted satisfaction of taking someone's else cake, so much the better.
The door opened with a ding, alerting the waitress that another client needed serving, but the young lady had a good enough relationship with Max to know that he wasn't here for a midnight meal so she didn't bother approaching.
John smelled him before he could see him, that irritating scent that he worked so hard to remove from his own body, the one that followed Bubbles everywhere he goes, the scent of the hood at it's lowest.
The young man smelled like urine and weed and the days old vomit that stuck to his baggy clothes like Drake to a middle school.
He turned around to see the almost familiar bush of unkempt dirty blond hair and that unkempt, uneven stubble. The kid was tall and barely had any meat on his bones, his neck was slightly hunched and his shoulders slopped forward giving him the almost zombie-like appearance shared by his fellow jobless, shower-hating music enthusiasts who tried to look like Kurt Cobain.
(Image:)
"Here he comes, the man of the hour!" John's smile only grew, waving to the poor thing who looked like he just crawled out of a grave, "Come here, Billy!"
Max seemed transfixed, it had been less than week since she last saw him, but then he was a lively and excitable guy, sure he never was too big on hygiene and he could do with a better diet and easing down on the weed.
But this...Max Black was no fool, she knew what a dope fiend looked like.
"William…" She muttered, none of this made sense.
The woman held onto John's hand for comfort, and soon felt his arm warp around her protectively, this didn't make sense either, but at least it was pleasant, it was safe.
William Weeks staggered into the diner, his eyes darting around nervously. The few patrons that were present gave him a wide berth, their expressions a mix of pity and disdain. He looked like a man on the edge, every step a struggle.
John watched him with a detached interest, his smile never wavering. He took a sip of his coffee, letting the silence stretch until William finally made his way over to their table.
There was something uniquely exciting about cuddling a man's girlfriend before his very eyes, and knowing he could not and would not do anything about it.
Conan really knew his stuff, it might be the best in life.
Vile, yes, but the best nonetheless.
Then again, he was a vampire, this was just their modus operandi.
Unfortunately for Billy, there was no Van Hellsing to even the odds.
"John," William croaked, his voice barely above a whisper. He glanced at Max, his eyes full of shame and desperation with none of the fury a proper man would muster, "I... I did what you asked, I came as soon as I could."
Max's grip on John's hand tightened. She looked between the two men, her eyes wide with confusion. How on earth did the two know each other? She was the one who called him.
John's smile grew softer when he kissed her head, whispering sweet nothing and reassurances in her ears. But then he turned to the young man and his eyes hardened once more, "William here has something he needs to confess. Don't you, Billy?"
'It must be hell,' John thought, 'Being the third wheel in your own couple, though he'd probably let me take her right in front of him if I promised a vial.'
William's hands shook as he wrung them together. "Max, I'm so sorry. I... I've been using. Heroin, cocaine... I couldn't stop. I spent all my money, lost my job, and... and last week I got caught...Bubbles saw me in Park Row." His voice broke, tears streaming down his face as rambled on and on, "I'm sorry, it was just too much, the band had trouble and we blew a contract to play in a club, I had too take the edge off somehow but weed wasn't doing it."
"Just say it," John said, frowning at the poor guy who almost had a heart attack.
That's what happens when you throw your presence around for the sole purpose of intimidation.
But it did the trick, William took a deep breath and prepared himself to tell the single most hilarious thing John and nearly everyone in the dinner heard in a good while.
"I got caught giving head to a dealer named Tyrone for a vial." He said in one go.
It took all of John's will not cackle right then and there, some of the more noisy patrons and the waitress weren't as respectful though.
Max did not gasp or rage or even vomit as John had imagined in the most comical renditions of the conversation, her face sayed blank and she asked the shameful man,"What?"
"He sucked off Tyrone for a vial! Pay attention Max!" The voice of a man of slavic descent rang out from the kitchen.
William all but fell to his knees, looking at her with pleading eyes. "I didn't want to, Max. I swear. But I couldn't stop. Bubbles said he knew someone who could help, that his boss always found a way to get people the help they need...that's how I met John, but he said he—he said he liked you and told me to come clean. He said he'd help me if I told you everything."
He didn't mention that Bubbles was given three hundred dollars to follow him that day, but that wasn't something he knew in the first place.
Max turned to John, her eyes filled with confusion.
John's smile turned colder. "William needed to face the consequences of his actions. And now he has."
William reached out, trying to grab onto John's shoulders but promptly retreated when the younger man glared at him. "Please, John. You promised. You said you'd help me."
He did do that, it wasn't hard convincing a man who lost everything.
John looked down at him with a mixture of pity and disdain. "I said I'd help you if you told Max the truth. And you did. But I never promised you drugs or money, William. Your addiction is your own to deal with."
William's face crumpled, and he let out a choked sob. "Please... I have nothing left. I'll do anything."
John's gaze flickered with a brief spark of amusement. "I can't give you money, Billy, but I can give you a job, a chance to get clean."
Max watched the exchange, her emotions a whirlwind of anger, sadness, and confusion. She couldn't believe what was happening. She had known William was struggling, but she had no idea it was this bad. And John...John had already planned all of this.
From the day they met, when he promised he would take care of her, something she dismissed as mere sweet talk when the night ended and she returned to her dull, exhausting life.
'It wasn't,' She thought almost fondly 'He wasn't lying.'
Bubbles worked for John, she knew he hauled around scrap for him so he rode around the city all day long, but there was no way he just stumbled onto William.
John put him up to it, he put a tail on her junkie of a boyfriend.
On one hand, she wouldn't have known otherwise.
On the other, it all felt so cold, so calculated.
She didn't know how to feel about it.
"Everything will be alright, William" John said.
That meant William should probably run and never look back, but junkies weren't known for their good judgment.
William slowly got to his feet, swaying slightly. "What do I do now?"
John's smile returned, a predatory glint in his eyes. "That's up to you. You've hit rock bottom, William. You can either stay there or claw your way back up. Bubbles will drop you off to Brideshead, meet me there in three hours, or I'll just assume you're no longer interested."
William nodded, his shoulders slumped in defeat. He turned to Max, his eyes filled with tears. "I'm so sorry, Max. I never meant to hurt you, but I think it's best if we stop seeing each other."
Max looked at him, but there was no heartbreak. They were done, just like that.
William stumbled out of the diner, heading for Bubbles' shit-brown pickup, the snake inside whispering ways he could get ten dollars and buy a vial while waiting for his new boss.
And just like that, he was gone from her life.
Max turned to John, there were hundreds of questions in her mind but only a single one mattered.
"Why?"
John reached out to take her hand, his expression softening. "I knew you'd feel guilty leaving him, and I just couldn't stand letting you suffer like this."
She tried to pull away, but his grip was too strong and those eyes of his showed too much care, soon all she could think about was him and his touch and the lengths he would go to make sure she was alright.
Their lips joined for a moment, and then another, and another until that voice that told her they in public and shouldn't act this way was gone, replaced by another stating that she was now single and free to do as she pleases.
She was gasping for air by the time they parted, her face flushed and lips puffed, but John didn't seem constrained by the same limits, he just went kissing his way from cheeks to her chin until he reached her neck.
Max felt him kissing and sucking, the slight pain of the hickey drowned by the ecstasy that followed, it wasn't supposed to feel this good.
What little sense was lift in her wondered what it would feel like to go all the way, if a mere kiss was enough to make give her euphoria.
She barely remembered him stopping, and holding her close, the envious or appalled looks from the few customers look, nor did she remember getting into a cab and holding onto John as if he was a body pillow.
But she did, and soon her key was opening the door of her small apartment.
This day started with her stifling tears when she decided that stopping this was the right thing to do, and there was welcoming him into her home.
Yes, John Harker was determined to subvert all her expectations.
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Yo! It's Hamtaro!
Got another chapter for ye! Nice and long!
Drop your stones, leave a comment and give me all the opinions, suggestions and criticism you've got.
We're about 2 to 3 chapters away from our full DC phase, so be prepared!
By the way, is it obvious that Johnny boy is using low-level presence pretty liberally? Should I tone it down? Tone it up? I'd love to hear your thoughts on the matter.
Again, I appreciate your support.
I'll be making a Discord in a few days to make things more convenient and send notifications when I update.
Have a nice day!