I'm deeply, deeply sorry. I'll explain at the end of this chapter.
WARNING! (More like a disclaimer): There are some slightly... heavy parts in this chapter. I was surprised when I wrote them, but they came up so good that I didn't want to delete them. Don't hate me for them.
"Who is this?"
"O'Donnell. We need to meet, I might have something."
"About time. When and where?"
"I'll send you the address, memorize it and then erase the text. Meet you there in one hour. Don't be late, we have to move fast on this."
"I'll be there."
And there he was. Johnny had just arrived to the address that he had memorized, finding it difficult to believe that this was the place he was supposed to be in. It was the text-book definition of a goddamn dump. Regardless of it, he knocked on the place's door, waiting for a few seconds until the door opened abruptly and he found himself staring down the barrel of a compact pistol. Makarov, he couldn't avoid thinking, having seen too much of the small firearm in his army years.
"You better have a good reason to be here, laddie." Johnathan had finally noticed the older, gruff man that stood behind the weapon. He obviously didn't know what to say, having not reached an agreement on a password or challenge to know friends from foes. He was about to try his luck when a familiar voice helped him out of the tight spot.
"It's Ok, Clive. He's with us. Or at least I think he is. Why do you have my gun, by the way?"
"I took the shotgun apart for cleaning. I was in the process of piecing it back together when your friend here showed up. And you," he added, turning to Johnathan and lowering the handgun, "get in. You are a nice target just standing in there like a clueless tosser."
He obeyed without saying a word, stepping into the musty place and taking it all in. It was what could be described as a 'man cave', and he was ready to label it as such until a faint, out-of-place smell got to him. She's here. The thought was automatic, although he had absolutely no reason to believe that was the case. But why else would there be a smell like that in the air? And why did it matter? Last night's encounter had played in his head again and again the rest of the night, haunting him even when he had managed to sleep for a couple of hours. But he had to concentrate on the task at hand. He had already committed to this and he would not back out, memories or no memories.
"So, did you find anything useful?" he switched mental gears quickly, the cold, calculating fighting machine again.
"Two things: the bastard's followers are fanatics, some of the worst I've ever seen. It took a lot of working over to crack this nut, and even then, it was partial. I wouldn't trust any of the information this bastard gave to us, but it's the most solid piece of data we have yet."
"That depends. Did you get it through… 'enhanced interrogation techniques'?" Torture, to anyone in the know.
"Yeah, it was the only way." Sean wasn't the kind of person that enjoyed inflicting pain on others, but it had been a great necessity this time.
"I don't buy it, then. You hurt them and they just tell you the first lie they can come up with to make it stop. You said you discovered two things, what's the second?"
"The guy did give us a good location on the bastard that killed Paddy." This time it was Clive who spoke, serving a round of scotch for everyone, including Johnathan, "We figured that you would like to help us assault the crap out of the place. You might not have met the boy that I raised as my own son, but you yanks do love to blow things sky-high, don't you?"
Johnathan just couldn't avoid chuckling, "Yeah, we do." He downed the liquor in one go.
"Good. Then we should go ahead and scout the location. You were a Ranger, according to my sources, so you shouldn't be uncomfortable with the idea of covering us in case things get… dicey as you say. Are you?"
As a matter of fact, he was uncomfortable right now. Had he known the sky would be falling over his goddamned head he would have forced either Sean or Clive to take his place. He was soaked from head to toe already, a bone-jarring cold chilling him and threatening to drive him into a hypothermic state. Yet, he never took his eyes off the scope of the rifle, never broke the firm grip he held on the pistol grip with gloved hands that barely kept the cold at bay for him to accurately aim. The merciless pelting of the heavy rain would be annoying to anyone else, but his training and his commitment to the task at hand cancelled everything out.
The structure right across from them would be a desirable vacationing home in other circumstances, but today it wasn't.
"Marlow, what do you see?" Sean was impatient, to say the least. The trio had been keeping an eye on the place for the better part of a day, going on to the night. By the time their watches had hit 23:48 they were exhausted, bored, hungry (at least Johnathan was) and ready to call it a day, until they began noticing a spike of activity.
"Black SUV, coming up from the road. Looks heavily armored, and the sentries at the house are scrambling into guarding and combat positions. I think we hit the jackpot in here."
"I see them. Can you take out the driver before the vehicle reaches the driveway? We'll suppress the sentries and you pick them off, and then we bag the bastard."
"Not a problem."
It was a problem: long-range shot, heavy rain, cold air, into a moving vehicle. Yet there were things you just didn't complain about. Johnathan drew a deep breath, and gently depressed his finger on the trigger. A deafening 'boom' crackled from the metallic barrel of the rifle, masked by the noise of downpour. A crack appeared on the SUV's windshield, and the vehicle swerved out of the road and into a muddy ditch, just as all hell broke loose.
There was a call to the door.
She wouldn't normally answer it, since this wasn't her home and she was rarely out of her designated room. But Mavis was alone now, and she couldn't just very well leave the visitor outside. Dressed in a black sleeping blouse and red sweatpants she walked the distance to the door, her mind stopping her just halfway through the doorknob's turn. What if it's them?! She had no time to even process the thought, as the door was flung open violently and sent her tumbling back. Two figures rushed inside, clad in black body-suits, their movements inhumanly fast. They had had the surprise on their side, but Dracula's daughter was faster and stronger. And determined, too, as she sent the nearest attacker flying back with ne swift sucker-punch, then catching the other one's arm and viciously snapping it, following it with a quick kick to the ribs. The crude and horrible sounds of bones snapping and crunching where lost on her as she delivered what she perceived to be fair punishment, even equaling to justice in her mind. Three more attackers joined the fray, throwing their best at her, but the vampiress was unfazed by the interruption. She was so absorbed by the fight and the thrill of revenge that she failed to notice a single man standing right behind her, just until an electric shock went through her body, weakening and stunning her out of consciousness. The last thing she could clearly remember was lying on the floor and feeling incredibly tired, right before the world went dark again.
He examined the limp body of the girl at his feet.
"What a waste. Amazing how these filthy roaches can assume such beautiful outward appearances. No wonder they keep producing their dirty offspring to spread around." The words came out so easily, because they were true to him. He hated these beings with burning passion. He wanted them dead, in the most painful and efficient ways. His family had done so for generations before him. He was just taking it into a whole new level. And this? This was the key to ending it all. The Princess of Darkness, now under his thumb. He would enjoy it very much, even if he had to cut her into little pieces to get what he wanted. He had time.
The last crack from a high-powered sniper rifle ended the battle. Sixteen corpses littered the driveway, front lawn, and road leading to the house. Sean sprinted from his position, cradling the small automatic submachine gun in his hands. He was high on adrenaline and not thinking clearly. He only wanted to kill the bastard. He pulled the latch on the rear doors, fully expecting to see a cowering motherf*cker shrinking into himself, ready for him to pop him in the head.
But there wasn't. And everything changed immediately.
"There's no one here!"
"Wait, what do you mean?"
"I mean it's empty, Marlow, the bastard is not here! Clive, have you seen anyone leave?"
"No, kiddo, everyone here is dead or dying. Are you sure it's empty?"
"Wait… O'Donnell?"
"What?!"
"Where's Mavis?"
"She's back at the apartment… Oh, shit…"
"Get to the car, I'm coming down!"
Consciousness came sporadically to her.
A cramped space.
A concrete floor.
A punch to her face.
An enormous place.
A single light source.
The skin of her arms cut deeply.
Her blood, all over herself.
She should be dead. She would be dead, had she been a human. She was suffering beyond anything she had suffered so far, and she wanted it to stop. She knew how to stop it. She just couldn't afford to do that. She couldn't betray the secret. Her father wouldn't have done so; she owed him that, at the very least.
"You know I have all the time in the world, Princess. You, on the other hand? It's only a matter of time before I cause you enough pain to make you spill everything I want to know. Why don't you save me the trouble? I can even stop hating you long enough to give you a fast and merciful death. What do you say?"
She looked up, eyes watery with tears, her breathing coming in short sobs. Her whole face was red, her eyes swollen by the crying and the pain. But she still did her best. If she talked, if she told him what he wanted to know, then it wouldn't be just her suffering this. It would be her father. Her uncles, her aunts. Claire, Lilith… little Nate… No, she couldn't do that to them. She could… she could hold her own. She had to.
"Piss… off…" between sobs.
The man was not pleased. Without blinking, he pressed the silver restrains on her wrists. The burning sensation, the feeling of her sizzling skin, and the smell of burnt flesh, all combined into a merciless torture. And all she could do was scream, cry, and pray that she had the strength to resist. He pressed randomly into them, taking joy into what he was doing to her. He was destroying her body, and he wasn't even slightly worried about it. He was enjoying it.
She passed out, not before feeling herself slipping into shock, her crying and screaming growing more subdued as the pain waned her strength away.
Darkness.
And she was alone now. Lying in the darkness, her eyes still tearful, but feeling no pain now.
"It's been a while." A familiar voice. Her own.
Mavis looked up from where she lay, now face-to-face with herself.
"Y-ou… you said…"
"I said I would be around. I never left. Not completely."
It was different from the last time. As in, she wasn't taking a beating from herself.
"W-what do you want? Go away. I'm suffering enough as it is" she meant it. She knew that, wherever she was right now, it was only temporary. That she would go back to reality, to the torment she had been suffering before arriving… wherever she was now. She didn't need her evil-self mocking or hurting her even more.
"That's why I'm here. You are doing the right thing. You have to hold on. For Drac, for your aunts and uncles, for Claire. And for little Nate and Lilith. If he gets anything out of you, they'll suffer even more than you are right now."
It was weird, to hear her evil side sooth and encourage her. She just couldn't understand it.
"I- I can't. It hurts, it hurts too much. He's killing me slowly, and I can't endure that. I can't just sit there and watch him kill me!" she wailed, holding back the tears, as she realized that the wounds she had been inflicted in her consciousness where there in her unconsciousness too. They didn't hurt, but they were scary to look at.
"I know it hurts. I'm in here too, remember?" it says, gently rubbing Mavis' head, "Do you remember what he said?"
"No, please. Don't talk about him…"
"He said that you were strong, that you were the only person he would ever trust to take care of Nathan…"
"Stop, please…"
"Don't disappoint him by being weak. He trusts you."
"He shouldn't have! I'm weak and pathetic! I can't do this! I can't!"
"Yes, you can. We believe in you. Both him and me. Although I don't really have much of a choice, mind you…" both of them chuckled lightly at that.
"Will you help me?"
"I'll do my best, Princess, but in the end it's all up to you" it pressed a small kiss to the side of her head, before she was forced back into reality, not before hearing one last thing, "Good luck…"
Three days. Three days since Sean, Clive, and Johnathan had returned to O'Donnell's apartment just to find it trashed, the door cracked from forceful entry and a few spots of blood from where Mavis had probably tried to defend herself from the attackers. No one saw nor heard anything (or so they said), and the failed assault from before proved that whoever they were dealing with was taunting at them, and he had purpose, which was even more frightening and dangerous.
"That's the best you can do? After all that you made me suffer? After the way you ruined my life? Forcing me to start over on my own?"
With nothing else to do but wait until Sean and Clive could crack their hostage or bribe their way into knowledge with their sources, Johnathan had a hard time not remembering the last words the girl had told him to his face.
""That's it? You've got nothing to say to me? No excuses for your cowardice? No excuses for lying to ME?!"
He really didn't have any excuses or reasons to give to her. Not because he didn't want to give her the answers she wanted, but rather, because he didn't have those answers himself. His memory was still on lockdown, or at least he knew it to be in such state, and he could only compare it to the feeling you get when you got drunk in a party…
Party…
"Thanks for the party" she said, looking around the room, a giddy expression in her face.
"Oh, yeah? You like my little touches?" he said, as a swarm of fireflies flew near them, later resolving into multiple representations of famous places around the world. Her eyes where wide with amusement, with her gasping at the scenes presented in front of her eyes.
"It's… amazing!"
"Aaaaargh!" Johnathan flung the whisk across the musty room he had returned to, the glass shattering upon impact and spilling the shards on the floor, the liquor dripping along the wall. The headache, and his inability to remember more, fused into an unpleasant feeling that was driving him into the brink of sanity. That's why he never heard the footsteps at his door, or the sound of someone rappelling down into the small balcony. The window exploded inward, and a metallic clatter quickly followed suit.
A bright flash. An ear-shattering explosion. Next, the door blew open, and before he knew what was happening he was already surrounded. One of them moved towards him, but he blocked the attacking arm, locking it with his inner arm and then delivering a vicious sucker punch to the face that was connected to the enemy arm. He was in the process of turning to re-engage when something struck him in the left leg, instantly causing a muscular spasm and crippling him. Beanbag round. The next thing he recognized was a boot about to strike his face.
And then he knew nothing else.
"Good", he said, looking at the unconscious redhead on the ground, "we needed him. The Princess of Darkness might hold her own against physical torture. But I think she'll feel differently about me working over her groupie here."
He didn't know what was so special about this guy, but the vampires had only reacted to… stimulation, when he had given her an ultimatum: Either she talked or her friends would be next. Mentioning the redhead had made her falter for a microsecond, but to a professional like him it was a signal.
"Take him away. And get him ready. I want our guest to see him as soon as he's awake."
Explanation time:
A) The reason I'm taking so long to update. This is actually because of one of my other fics (Red Typhoon), which takes over too much of my time. It's the hardest fic to write and update and it's one of the least read, so as of now I'll push it away from my update rotation. I'll still update it but only when I feel like doing so and it won't clog the update flow for these other stories. Also, I got shot in the thumb at point blank while playing airsoft, so yeah, it's numb and it hurts a bit when I write, so the next updates will be a bit slow while my thumb heals.
B) I've been asked this question enough times to merit an explanation: no guys, I don't hate Johnathan. The reason why my fics center around him being absent or away from Mavis is because I like MavisxOC pairings better than the canonic pairing. That doesn't mean I hate him, but rather that I like other characters a lot more. I don't know if I'm expressing myself clearly, if I didn't then just say so.
C) If you like Danny Phantom, I have a fanfic project on the works. If not, don't worry, that one WILL enter into the update rotation because it will be a lot easier to write than RT so your favorite fics won't suffer.
D) I'm working on something related to Hotel T, but it's not a fanfic. If I can make it work you'll be the first people to know, so keep an eye out in this section so you'll get the good news when (and IF) they come.
E) Mira SeverusSirius Black-Snape (Jesus, your username is really long) thanks for the laugh, I really needed it at the time. Hope the story is to your liking.
So... that's it for now, I guess. Thanks for reading and for your patience, hope the story is meeting all of your expectations, and, as always, please take your time to review. It makes all of this worth it. See ya next update.