Meanwhile, with Alaric.
Did you miss my gruesome and morbid descriptions of blood dripping monsters?!
*NOOOOO!*
Too bad, you're getting them anyway.
One world apart, part 22: The hunters of the Five and C4
Alaric ran as fast as he could to the Mystic Grill, anger clouding his judgment a little. In less than a minute, he'd be there, but for now he wasn't, and he did not trust Connor Jordan not to pass time by slaughtering a few innocents. The guy might have been human, but he had had no qualms using human baits, as the episode with April Young had proven already. And at the time the guy had only been obsessed with getting rid of every single vampire he met.
Now it was worse. Jordan had a litteral mission, now: to get rid of Silas.
Normally it wouldn't be a plan Ric would have a problem with, considering the Immortal was a major ass and a murderous bastard with overcheated powers. But as it was, they had already taken care of Silas. There was no need to get rid of him again. And, once more, Alaric was against the idea of collateral damage.
And to top it all, Jordan wanted his revenge on Elena.
Why couldn't the girl have a normal life, for once? Just, you know, a normal graduation ceremony with her friends after having lunch with her surrogate father?
Oh wait, because Elena was a vampire and a doppelganger, most of her friends were supernatural beings and / or dead – one not excluding the other – her kind-of-father-in-law was a dead original vampire, and the town of Mystic Falls was suffering from a ghost invasion.
Alaric blurred into presence right outside the Mystic Grill. He could see Connor sitting at the bar, which made him grit his teeth.
Right... Anger management. He was good at that. Usually. When he hadn't spent half a year not being able to act and protect those who needed to be protected. Those he cared for.
In other words, not right now.
Still, he had practice, and he forced a casual smile onto his face.
He entered the Grill, and returned a wave from a student who was eating there and seemed very surprised to see him back in town. He headed directly to Connor Jordan, though.
Ric sat down next to the hunter, and considered tearing him into halves without trial, but he had to admit it would be messy if he did it here, in public. He really enjoyed imagining it, though.
There was a short conversation, which turned moot the moment the other ghost admitted to having planted bombs on himself. Ric wasn't amused.
Jordan didn't get to dwell on it, though, even if he saw the vampire's face going from joking to cold-enough-to-give-him-chills. Before the hunter could do anything the vampire had grabbed his wrist with indomitable strength and the world blurred. The man wasn't sure how strong the vampire was, but he certainly was stronger than any monster he had ever met. Even with his own enhanced strength as a member of the Brotherhood of the Five, he couldn't even struggle.
So Jordan triggered the explosives. He had no idea if he was still in the Grill or not, because that surely must have been what it felt like to be moved from a spot to another by a vampire at full speed, but he sure as hell was going to take the bastard out with him. Because the guy might have been older than any vampire he had dealt with – or something else entirely – but nothing could survive being blown to bits, as far as he knew. And vampires burned with fire, anyway.
After that the ghost didn't think anything else, because he was, well, deader than before. He'd come back, obviously, but not before some time.
And if Ric was lucky, it'd take more time for Jordan to come back from being blown to bits than what was needed to be revived from a broken neck, or even a beheading.
If he could not see the bastard's ugly mug until the Veil was back in place, he'd be happy enough. Especially considering there was no way he'd manage to get what was left of Connor Jordan to the clearing. What little what left of him, in fact. Hell, mashed potatoes would be easier to bring with him than this.
As Ric got back onto his feet, he tried to ignore the reddish stains that now covered the street. Maybe no one would question the presence of human mash all over the street, not before the ghost got back into one bit and it disappeared? Yeah, right, and Ric wasn't covered in human residue.
He did self-consciously dust off his pants, but it didn't change much of anything, really.
Not that, himself, he was in a stellar state either. Alaric had no mirror to look at himself but he could see how half of his shirt had been blown away, because apparently being corporeal meant his shirt wasn't ghostly either, and if he couldn't feel the sticky business of exploded flesh covering him, it was because his skin was too busy reforming after having dealt with an explosive bastard right in the face. He couldn't tell for sure because it hurt in a lot of places, but he had a feeling he had lost half a jawbone to this nonsense.
He tried poking at it, just out of morbid curiosity.
Oh, yeah. There was – or, more accurately there wasn't – a missing part to his jawbone. In between torn flesh and flowing blood that squished under the tip of his fingers, he even felt the bone reforming from nothing.
If that was his jawbone, he didn't want to know what his left eye looked like, considering the pain he could feel coming from it, and the fact he couldn't see a thing.
Following a foolish hope that he'd feel better, and because it'd give his flesh and skin and bones and body in general some more time to get back into shape, Alaric stretched.
Something popped out of his back, which definitely felt uncomfortable, but not more uncomfortable than his jawbone. He stretched a bit more, frowning, and two other somethings popped out of his flesh. He took a deep breath, already fearing what it was that he'd find, and reached with his right arm. He had fallen right onto his back when the exploding bastard had actually exploded.
In between torn fabric and scraped-off skin, that his fingers only ghosted over not to worsen the pain, he found small bits of hard material.
Rolling his shoulders a bit, he felt one pop out, and grabbed it before it fell.
Then he looked at it.
Oh, gross. He had to have rolled right into gravel after having restrained a kamikaze ghost, right? Because it wasn't yuck enough as it was. And it didn't hurt enough as it did. And...
Right, less complaining, more getting rid of the gravel stuck in his flesh and grating at his bones.
After five excruciating minutes, Alaric didn't look like an undead monster straight out of a horror movie, but only straight out of a horror movie. After all, the whole backstreet he had managed to drag Jordan to, out of sight and not as conspicuous as it would have been if they had exploded right outside the Mystic Grill, was covered in a very suspicious pinky-red goo. And even if all his skin and other bits were back in place, his clothes were still torn, and he was literally dripping blood... and other things he didn't want to think about.
Alaric took a short moment to breathe in, breathe out, before he got the hell away from the horror scene. It was already a miracle no one had walked in on him all monster-from-your-worst-zombie-nightmares-looking, he wasn't going to wait for the police to arrive because of the explosion.
Maybe that was why no one else had walked in already, because of the explosion. Too scared, maybe. Anyway, it was all the better for him.
He so did not want to explain, with or without compulsion, why there was a bloody mess in the backstreet.
Just as he walked away, he heard police sirens.
Alaric took the long way to the Grill, not willing to meet with said police sirens, which surely came from a police car, and whose police officers would certainly question the half-dressed bloodied man coming right from the direction of the latest explosion in town.
And as soon as he turned onto the place in front of the Mystic Grill, not suspiciously hiding his terrible state behind the nearest cars, he saw something that would have had him roll his eyes, if it hadn't been so serious an event he shouldn't and didn't feel the want to roll his eyes.
Ric had decided that, despite the state he was in, he'd take a look from afar, just to see if Jordan, or one of his little friends, had left another gift to the nice citizens of Mystic Falls.
Obviously he had been right to suspect there would be more to it.
Because really? Weren't the Brotherhood members supposed to be acting on their supernatural urge to end Silas, rather than on their personal urge for revenge? Apparently not, considering one of them had put Matt Donovan on an exploding device.
Seriously, the hunters of the Five and C4? It seemed to be a thing, and Alaric sure hoped Jeremy hadn't gotten it too.
Why did they have to want to blow things up? It was dangerous not only to the target, but also to the passersby. It wasn't the way to do things! Acid, on the other hand...
Focus.
The other ghost finally got the hell away, certainly to leave the two lovebirds to despair alone, and because, all things considered, he needed to get back to undoing Silas. Just, like, it was his main purpose both in life and the afterlife, man.
Couldn't he have started with that?
In a blink, Ric was next to the two, who gaped at the sight, while he studied the exploding device.
"I hate it when it's homemade..."
He glanced up at Rebekah, who had ended in Matt's place just before her ex left.
"Don't move. I can disable it, but I'll need some time."
The Original stared at him, dumbfounded. First, Alaric Saltzman had appeared out of nowhere, shirt in shreds and torn pants – though the latter not as bad as the former – covered in blood and other things she didn't want to dwell on the nature of, and now he was offering help?
After all her family had done to him?
"Why would you do that? Don't you hate us for what our mother did to you?"
Eyes still on the device and knealing down, Alaric answered in a simple tone.
"I hate your mother, true, but I don't hate you. I'm not your biggest fan either, considering you tend to murder people, but you're currently trying to become a better person, despite what you are. Ring a bell about my own situation, or Damon's? Now, shush. I'm familiar with landmines and all, but we're less likely to be blown up if I can concentrate."
At that, the hunter frowned, looked up, and stared at Matt who had not moved.
"Though it would not hurt if you moved away, as she suggested. Rebekah and I can't be killed by the explosion, but you could die if I fail with you still around. I don't know, go and wait at the Grill or something. If nothing goes boom, it's good news."
"And if something goes boom, you'll still be alright, I get it."
Matt cast a last look at Rebekah, who shrugged him off as if it wasn't a big deal. She didn't want him around either if she was to be blown to bits.
A minute passed, which Ric used to open the device and get a better look at it, before she spoke again.
"I could just walk off it. It wouldn't do any lasting damage, and you know it."
Alaric snorted, before reaching for a green wire with caution.
"And that way, you wouldn't risk being blown away too."
"Oh, believe me, I do not wish to go boom a second time today. But you don't want it either, Rebekah, because it godamn hurts. I was missing half my jawbone only twenty minutes ago, and it's not something I recommend experiencing."
The female Original vampire frowned at him, and the state of his clothing suddenly took a whole new meaning for her.
"So that was you, that explosion?"
Ric winced, but didn't deny it.
"Another wacko ghost hunter was dressed in C4 at the Grill. I grabbed him and ran the farthest away possible, but it meant I was holding onto him when he exploded. The deputies must have already called for reinforcement, considering the mess it did in the street."
"Damn, the afterlife is hard on you."
Ric smiled wrily, a finger on a wire, ready to tuck it out and go home for a change of clothes, or explode with it, one more time.
"No more than life was. Now, a deep breath, Rebekah, and we're in for fate to decide whether or not I'll be the only one dressed in rags today."
Both Originals watched anxiously as he finally disabled the device from hell.
Fortunately, it did not explode. It wouldn't have killed them, alright, but it'd have hurt like hell. And they did not wish to be hurt that much, or at all if they had a choice in the matter. Which they didn't.
Mission complete. Now Alaric only had to get back to the boarding house. And to get new clothes.
