A/N: I wrote this after seeing Inglorious Basterds, so the dialogue may be a little over the top here.
Caution - gratuitous violence ahead.
Jasper's endearment is inspired by the Anita Blake book series by Laurell K. Hamilton, only her vampire is French. Why are there so many romantic triangles with vampires and werewolves out there?
Chapter 13 - Warrior
"Now I see some of you eyeing me, wondering why exactly you're here," I spoke with authority. Two dozen pairs of red eyes were focused on me, burning with a myriad of emotions - curiosity, contempt, hostility, fear...nothing I didn't expect. The newest batch of New Borns were seated on the ground in front of me while I paced up and down the line, looking at each in turn. I could've easily suppressed their emotions with my power, but that was not the point of this particular exercise.
"Well, you are here for one thing and one thing only, to learn to be the most effective killing machines known to vampirekind." I could feel the skepticism ripple through the line. 'Oh, I'm sure to some of you that sounds right fucking stupid. Y'all are vampires, you were born to kill, right? You got heightened senses, supernatural reflexes, and strength enough to lift a Ford pickup over your heads. More than that, you got the instinct to kill, that lust for death. So why do you need some scrawny instructor teaching you anything?"
"Why now, I could explain it to you, but I have a feeling it would be like arguing with a fence post for all the good that it would do. So how about a little demonstration?" Now I could feel the skepticism being replaced by confusion, just as I anticipated. I shrugged out of my silver trimmed Centurion uniform jacket, enjoying the hot Missouri sun against the skin on my bare arms. "I need me five volunteers."
A few of the New Borns stood up and walked out of the line. I could always spot the troublemakers, the ones who were bullies even before they were turned. They stood with an arrogance about them, not even hiding their disdain while sizing me up. I could tell that they were not impressed by what they saw. I was fairly tall, but nothing spectacular. My arms and shoulders were lean and defined, but not bulky. With my relaxed demeanor and slow Louisiana drawl, I probably looked downright harmless in their eyes. Well, these boys were about to appreciate that appearances weren't everything.
The five of them started to spread out and circle me. I maintained my outwardly casual stance while extending my senses to anticipate the first move. I wasn't worried about them coordinating their attack. Men like these were always overly confident in their own strength and never bothered with any strategies.
I didn't have to wait very long.
The first rushed at me from the right side while hollering something fierce. He had the look of a linebacker who put on a few pounds after his prime. It was obvious that he was still thinking like a human, trying to psych me out with his screams and charging with wide spread beefy arms. Before his arms could close around me, I struck his exposed neck hard with the mouth of my hand, crushing his throat instantly. He reflexively pulled in both arms to put his hands around his pulverized windpipe, human instincts again taking over. I took the opening for an uppercut elbow to his chin. The force of my attack snapped his head back and detached his skull from his spine. He fell to the ground in a boneless heap. Just because our skin was near impenetrable didn't mean our innards didn't still function the same way as humans. You separate the central nervous system from the brain and we would crumble like a puppet with our strings cut, just like a human would.
The blond on my left signaled to the burly guy next to him and they both came at me at once. I reckoned they thought the same attack would work if they had the numbers. It was still pure amateur hour, but at least they weren't screaming like drowning cats this time. I waited until they were within striking distance, sidestepped and crouched for a sweep. The blond ran right into my leg and fell flat on his face. The big guy stopped his forward momentum and started to turn to face me. He was too slow. I grabbed him in a rear naked choke before he could fully complete his turn. Choke-holds were useless as we do not need to breathe, but it did offer me the leverage to pull until his head separated from his vertebra.
The blond had recovered from his fall and rushed toward my exposed back, probably to try the same move I just used on his buddy. I held my position until the very last moment, then I reached over and grabbed his right upper arm with my left hand for a shoulder toss. He flew through the air, somersaulting end over end, until he hit the wall head on with bone shattering force. He was out of the fight.
The next New Born cautiously approached me. He was about my height and build, and sported a crew cut. I could tell he had some training, as he was in a classic boxing stance, bobbing and weaving as he closed the distance. I dodged or deflected his jabs, making sure to stay within his range but not countering so he would grow overconfident. I got my opening when he overextended on a straight right. I locked his arm within my own and struck with a vicious stomp kick to his left knee cap. His joint snapped instantly and he fell to his knees screaming. Using the leverage offered by my new position, I applied pressure to his captured arm until I tore it clean out of his shoulder, he screamed louder as he clutched at the gaping wound where his arm used to be. Thick, viscous fluid was pouring out between his fingers. I finished him with an axe kick to the head, caving his skull on top of his brain.
I dropped the severed arm on the ground and turned to the last man. He was looking at me bug-eyed, like he was facing the devil himself. I had a feeling that if he could, he would be wetting himself right about now. I didn't know why, but I decided to be nice and offered him an out. "Well now, if you want to step back in line, I won't hold it against you. I think I've made my point."
I could see the conflict building behind his eyes. He was weighing his options. Either face excruciating pain at my hands or face the humiliation and ridicule that awaited him back among the recruits. I could see the wheels turning in his head, feel his warring emotions. Finally, he steeled himself and came at me.
I had to give it to him, the man had guts coming at me after seeing how I took apart those men. He threw a wide arcing punch, which I blocked easily. He continued his desperate frenzied attack, and I decided to reward his bravery by acting like he was really pressing me. After a few minutes, I moved to end the charade. I knocked his hands aside and grabbed him in a Muay Thai clench. Using the extra leverage of the hold, I smashed my knee into his sternum with tremendous force. The deadly hit completely collapsed his ribcage onto his internal organs, and I felt the strength flow out of his limbs. I then transitioned to a guillotine choke and jerked up, severing his cranium from his spinal column in a sickening crack.
"Now, I sure hope everyone was paying attention?" I dropped my earlier exaggerated accent from my speech, so I was left with only a hint of a Southern drawl. "Lesson one, appearances can be deceiving. I may look like I'm young, but I been fighting before your great-granddaddies were out of diapers. Lesson two, strength alone can never take the place of skill. As New Borns, you are stronger and faster than me, but you are also undisciplined and have no knowledge on how to properly use your advantages in battle. And most importantly, lesson three, don't ever fucking disrespect me or I'll burn you alive and spit on your ashes."
I randomly signaled to a few of the recruits sitting back in the line and then gestured to the men lying on the ground. "Get these fellers to the barracks." Head trauma incapacitated vampires, but nothing could truly kill us without outright burning our bodies. My volunteers would be fully healed in a few hours, hopefully with a new found respect for their elders.
I waited until the bodies were moved away before turning back to the rest of the tirones on the ground. "Now I know some of you recruits are here by choice, some of you are not. That's all in the past now. The skills we will teach you in the next six month will help you survive for the next millennium. Learn them well and you may get through this war intact. I will turn you over to my Optio for squad assignments. He is my eyes and ears when I'm not in direct command, and I expect you to treat him with as much respect as you would me. And have no doubt, ladies and gents, he can kick your asses as well as I can." I tasted the emotions running through the line and was satisfied to find all of them properly cowed. I nodded at my second in command to take over, grabbed my jacket off the ground, and headed off. I regretted the necessity of my brutal demonstration, but it was better to assert dominance on the training grounds now then to face dissidents on the battlefield later.
While we now had an abundant source of soldiers, training them was a battle in itself. New Borns were so out of control, such slaves to their id, that it took months to just teach them the basics of war, never mind advance tactics. The slow training cycle was one of the primary reasons why the war continued for so long. The other major reason was that the Volturi underestimated the resiliency and ingenuity of humans. Once we dominated in the early surprised attacks, humanity managed to regroup and mount an astonishingly effective defense. They were our equals in the air and on the seas, and in a few cases, our superiors. We could not overcome their defense without severe losses. For the last few years we have been focusing on building up an overwhelming force, trained in modern combat techniques. The plan was to launch a simultaneous attack all over the world, so we would crush the remnants of the human forces all at once. After three years we were finally reaching that tipping point for the planned campaign.
"Hey Jazz, out being a bad ass motherfucker again, eh?"
I tensed and turned to face the source of the voice. When I saw who it was, I dropped my guard and let a lazy smile ease onto my face. "Well, Garrett, it's a tough job but somebody's gotta do it."
Garrett was the Prius Prior of the 8th cohort. He had fought for the Empire for nearly a hundred years longer than I have. He was a skilled warrior, but had a bit of a rebellious streak which proved detrimental to his advancement. We hit if off almost immediately given our similar raising before our turning.
"How many did you take on this time?" Garrett inquired. We had a friendly rivalry going regarding how many "volunteers" we used for our "demonstrations."
"Five. And no powers," I answered. Garrett whistled and simply shook his head.
"Well, I got my work cut out for me then I suppose. Really setting the bar high for the rest of us Priors eh? You should throw your hat in the ring for Centurion of the year at the rate you're going," he joked.
It was rather ironic that I earned a reputation for being such a perfect soldier, considering I never wanted to be one in the first place. My dream was to learn a decent trade, marry my sweetheart, and start a modest sized family. But war was a heartless beast, and it did not care about one young man's dreams. When the war with the North heated up, I was drafted into the Confederate Army with a whole generation of young Southern boys. On the battlefield, I discovered I had a real talent for leading other men. In recognition of my achievements, and due to the unfortunate growing loss of competent commanding officers, I was granted a battlefield commission and rose to the rank of Major in the final months of the war.
I truly did not expect to survive the war. I didn't think anyone who saw so much carnage ever really expected to make it back alive. So I was beyond grateful to learn of the end of the hostilities with the North in 1865. Unlike some of my fellow officers, I had no bitterness in my heart when I learned of the surrender. I was simply glad that I would finally make it home to my girl, to go back to my life before it was interrupted by all this insanity. But unfortunately, fate, which had been so kind to me for three long years, had decided to abandon me. I was but a few miles out from my home, from my girl, when I ran into Maria.
Maria was one of the elder vampires who had been around since the dawn of Mayan civilization. Little did I know at the time, but while we were fighting our brothers at home, the vampire race was embroiled in a civil war of their own. The remnants of the Romanian elders overthrown by the Triumvirate in the First Blood War had amassed an army of New Borns to retake their power from the Volturi. Maria had chosen to side with the Romanians as she found their cause to be noble and honorable. Maria was out recruiting when she happened upon me. She must have saw something in me that appealed to her. And so, I was conscripted yet again to fight for a cause that was not my own.
As much as I may have once resented Maria for robbing me of my future, I have since come to understand her position. She did what she did, not out of cruelty, but out of necessity for her cause, for her belief in what's right. She deserved no more blame than I did when I sent young men with wives and children out to die fighting the North. Besides, Maria was a mighty fine teacher. She had seen the rise and fall of entire worlds, led men and women into battle for centuries. She had many names over the years, most of them lost to the sands of time. Maria was just her current incarnation. She passed on her considerable knowledge in the art of war to me, teaching me how to fight and to lead. Without the skills she imparted onto me, I would not have survived the worst years of the Second Blood War with only the few scars decorating my body.
After years of endless fighting, I once again found myself facing a lost cause. Strangely, I felt the same sense of relief that I felt all those years ago when the South surrendered. When the Hunters finally surrounded us, I thought a swift death would at least bring me some peace after an eternity of violence and death. But fate decided to intervene. One of the Hunters just happened to be gifted with the ability to detect talents in others. The Volturi offered to spare my life in exchange for swearing an oath of loyalty to the Guard. I nearly refused until they also promised to spare Maria as well. No matter what she had done, she was still my maker, and my teacher. I decided to sacrifice the freedom I would've found in death to save her life. Maria and I both took our oaths seriously, as we shared a deep sense of honor. Without our honor, we were truly no better off than animals.
My peculiar talent meant most of the Orders had wanted me as a member. But I was only interested in the Shield and Sword. I had no stomach for interrogations, and took no pleasure in the thrill of the hunt. And with my numerous scars, I would've made an awkward fit among the beauty found among the Sirens. Besides, by that point, soldiering was all I knew, all I was good at. Maria and I were tasked to assist with rebuilding the Volturi armies depleted by the long years of fighting. Little did I know at the time that I was replenishing the forces for the oncoming assault again humankind.
And so, I found myself inexplicably thrown into a third war against my will, fighting another opponent I felt no ill will toward. In fact, as the war progressed, I began admiring the sheer determination and skill of our enemy. They faced unconquerable odds, but they refused to surrender. Not only that, they continued to launch strikes against us, taking risks with their limited forces for a chance to hurt us. It was foolhardy, meaningless, and unbelievably courageous. I almost regret that we were about to wipe such a magnificent fighting spirit off the face of this earth.
"Where are you off to, Garrett?" I asked.
"Nowhere special, I'm overseeing the sniper training at the range. Oh shit, I'm running late! See you later." And he was off. I shook my head as I watched him blur away. The man really needed to set a better example for his troops.
I had time before my advanced combat tactics course, so I decided to head back to my office to do a bit of writing. Rather than keep a normal journal, I just continued my habit of writing to my girl from my days with the Confederates. It was a way to keep her memory alive with me always.
After being at war for so many years, my human memories were fading. I had already forgotten what my daddy looked like, and only had the faintest notion of my mama. I couldn't remember what my favorite food was, or the flavor of a good bourbon. But the one thing that I have never forgotten was my sweet little southern belle. We had practically grown up together, always inseparable. There still wasn't a day that went by when I didn't think about her long silky black hair, her gorgeous sea green eyes, and her pouty red lips. She was a tiny little thing, ma petit, and barely reached to my chest. But she was perfect and she was mine. My last memory of her was bittersweet. It was of her tear-stained smile as we said our last goodbyes before I reported in to the Confederate Army. She had agreed to be my wife once I returned home. She told me to think of her if I were ever afraid, to know that someone was waiting for me to come home.
I wrote to ma petit every time we stopped for camp. At first, I would get responses from her whenever our regiment received mail. We talked about our days, our love for each other, and our dreams for the future. Her letters kept me going. The thoughts of a life together with her helped keep the darkness away on those cold lonely nights at camp. Her correspondence was one of my most treasured possessions. They were worn now, falling apart from endless nights of repeated reading.
Toward the end of our letter exchanges her writing got more whimsical. Rather than simply writing about her day or our plans, she wrote about places and people I have never heard of before. My girl was always prone to flights of fancy, so I figured she just wanted to entertain me with some tall tales. But then the letters simply stopped. I was too preoccupied at the time to think too much on it, as the fighting had become very vicious near the end. It was another reason I had been glad for the end of the war regardless of the victor, to find out why my girl had stop writing. But then Maria got to me. By the time I had enough control and authority to pursue my own interests after Maria turned me, it was decades later. I couldn't bear the thought of finding out how ma petit raised a family with another man, as I was sure an exuberant beauty like her would not go unattached for long. So I held on to my delusions, continuing to write to her and imagining she was just standing in the doorway of our home, waiting for me.
"Jasper, a moment of your time."
I halted my steps and turned to stand at attention. I would recognize that voice anywhere. "Yes, Primus Pilus?"
"Jasper, I told you that you do not need to address me by that rank when we are alone, I am not overly fond of the Roman system the Volturi chose to adopt. It is so Euro-centric," Maria said wryly. After we had sworn oaths to the Volturi, Maria had risen rapidly among the Sword and Shield ranks to take command of the first cohort. She might have been small in stature, but she was a fierce warrior and a brilliant commander. Whatever concerns the Volturi had about her loyalties were dispelled after she had a personal audience with the Triumvirate. She told me that Aro read her and was satisfied that she would hold true to her oaths.
"Yes, Primus Pilus, I will endeavor to remember that for next time," I answered jokingly, relaxing my stance. Maria was the only senior officer that I was comfortable being informal with. She knew I held her in the highest esteem without all the military formalities to show my respect.
"Uh huh. I'm sure you will," she said skeptically. "In any case, I am glad I caught you. Command has just issued an order, and it pertains to you."
"Oh, are we moving out?" I inquired offhandedly. My cohort was still being replenished with reinforcements, so I was not yet expecting my marching orders.
"No, this is not an order for your troops, it is for you, and only you," Maria clarified.
"That's...rather unusual," I commented.
"Yes, it is a mystery. You are to go to the Forney Army Air Field to escort three passengers back to base. They will be arriving with the reinforcements scheduled for training this afternoon."
"What's so special about these passengers?" I asked.
"Well, one of them is apparently an Oracle, I do not have too many details on them. I am told that the Oracle is one of the best among the Order. You are to protect her at all costs. You will recognize her by her short spiky haircut." Maria replied, obviously relaying the instructions she was given.
"That's...even more unusual." My interest was piqued. On the front lines, I was used to seeing Inquisitors and Hunters running around. I have even seen some Sirens when we were redeployed for sentry duty in the occupied territories. But I had never seen anyone from the Order of Oracles. They were a very secretive group and almost never mingled with the other Orders.
"Exactly. I am not sure what is going on, but you have your orders. I will take over your class this afternoon," Maria said.
"Yes, ma'am. Try not to hurt too many of my boys now," I said lightly. I nodded once to acknowledge Maria, then turned to the garage for a vehicle. The air field was a bit of a drive, so I had to leave now if I wanted to get there on time.
*******************************
I parked in the shadows of the huge hangar, watching as the transport plane touched down on the runway. My mind was racing about the significance of this order to escort an Oracle and her passengers back to base. What was her business here? Did it have something to do with the war? Why was I singled out for this assignment?
While I entertained my theories, the plane had slowly taxied into the hangar. As it came to a stop, I began scanning the perimeter for hidden dangers. My eyes roamed over every dark corner, every large container or piece of equipment. I heard the back ramp lowering, but securing the area came first. Once I was satisfied the hangar held no threats I turned my attention to the interior of the plane.
And received the greatest shock of my long life.
There, standing in the dark interior, was an impossible sight. Her hair was shorter, her eyes golden, and her skin pale, but it was her. I stood rigid, unable to take my eyes off her lest she disappeared back into my memories. And I uttered the name that I held so dear in my heart, but never thought I would have the chance to use again to address its beautiful owner.
"M-Mary Alice?"