Chapitre 190: 29. Show Me The Meaning Of Being Lonely.
Then I went to Germany to fight, and they were the ten worst clubs I've ever been to in my life. Now I knew what they needed Damon for. To put Adam right. Mimosa confirmed this. Try fighting a hybrid then, for example, the fire elemental -dark fae hybrid is immune to water and aluminum, so neither of their weaknesses worked. This meant I had to find a new way to kill and try slamming my hand into someone made of fire, and you get to use a lot of fucking rages that the burns don't feel anywhere, and these bastards were plenty.
When I got out of the club this morning, I was in such a state of mind that I wouldn't necessarily have recognized anyone I knew, but I got through all ten of them. I bought a house in Germany near Dresden as it was pretty close to quite a few clubs, and then I had bases that were luckily empty where I stayed for a few days.
In Germany, it took me two weeks in total to get my strength up a bit to go on. From Germany, I went on to Italy. The first time, the second time, would be later when I'd put the mafia in check. Here where there was staging, sabotage, mystery-making, and checking a few things that really went that way. No clubs, thankfully.
I spent a week in each country. Then there was Austria. I got to stay in my house there; Mimosa was quite upset as she, too, felt the damage and my rage. Here, we had fight clubs again, not as difficult as in Germany.
I had only just recovered in the week I spent in Italy from the damage. After that, all the blood from Damon was used up, and so was every bit of dental stuff. It had been four weeks since Damon left, a month, and it had been hard.
I weighed 58 kilos and was swearing profusely. But I didn't have wagyu steaks in every house, and I didn't have time to concentrate on that with my schedule so fucking tight. There were always 5-10 snipings on top of the cake, so I didn't have any free time. I had heard nothing about the men. I just hoped that Adam would be okay.
Then Switzerland. There were mysteries, sabotage, set-ups, and a couple of clubs. My teeth didn't always do the right stuff, and I did not know what to eat, but then Mirella woke up and directed me to eat people's over-the-counter painkillers and some other preparations.
She also gave me a prescription for a couple of molecular teas to fill my molecular reserves so I could get stuff ready. So then I got a slight advantage again, but Mirella went back to sleep.
It was a tough gig. I didn't have to think about anybody else because there were so fucking many fight clubs. I continued the same way across Europe.
Now, every country has a fight club every day, mysteries, sabotage, and sniping, with the novelty of a street fight. I had to have a good street fight, usually at night, and it was difficult to get a good street fight, but I always found the people to get a good fight going.
Hungary, Poland, Ukraine, Belarus, Moldova, Estonia, Latvia, Lithuania. It took me two more months, and I didn't let my anger get the better of me, even though I knew what the men were doing. Celebrating.
I had a world save going on, and the men had celebrated. If they didn't believe in my ability to save the world, then they should have one last fucking party. Even Adam had recovered and was partying hard. Fucking and drinking. I knew there were two activities I would not do for a long, long time.
Then I moved on to Russia. To destroy the Russian mafia. The first one was like this, and this one was fucking hard. You had to snipe, stalk the victims, kill, poison as much as you could, and when you did, you had to kill them so that the message got through.
Brutally and viciously, no problem, just take the rage that develops from the idiocy of men and maim the fucking bastards. Time to wake up my killer side. It would take a month, but Bridgette unexpectedly contacted me with a tip, so I bought a house in Moscow. It was a gorgeous, enormous house, fully furnished, and I tried to eat, but I couldn't get wagyu cattle to come to the Russian border and nothing. When my third delivery disappeared on the way and was replaced by pork, I thought fuck it, I'll eat what I can catch.
The bad thing about the mafia business was that most of them were human, so on top of that, I had to hunt for my blood. I always found a meal. My rage was on all the time, and oh, my fucking men in my head.
Magnum couldn't help, he was in the fleas business so it was my job. Just mine. So much for the helpful, strict Salvatore. That was my headquarters while I was cracking down on the Russian mob. Fights, killings, assassinations.
After three months of men partying, the women left when the booze ran out, and the party ran out, too.
Adam heard Mimosa talking to him.
"Mimi has just destroyed the Russian mafia; it's only been a month; weighs 48 kilos, can't eat wagyu cattle because they can't get it in Russia, rage is on all the time, and recovery rate is 88%. Killer side woke up because it is must, so she doesn't feel so good about herself all the time."
Adam gulped and said, " We screwed up. Where can I go to help?"
Mimosa said, "That's just it, this is a punishment for you, a lesson, and that is that you may not take part, but don't worry, I have a duty to tell you three where we are going and what condition Mimi is in so you can make bets on the outcome."
Adam was silent. Samuel looked pale and picked up a bottle of vodka, took a long swig from it, and sighed. Damon stood up, went, and slammed his fist into the wall so hard it made a dent.
Bran raised his head and asked, "What the fuck is wrong with you? Where have all the women gone? "
Adam explained to Bran in a very firm voice it was Bran's idea to have the party and let Mimi be independent. Bran himself didn't remember his entire statement, and well, it was too late to do anything about it now.
It wasn't an easy or particularly fun gig. I came back from the Russian gig; I was really exhausted but did not have a moment's rest. The same thing went on from there. I went back to Italy to put the mafia in check for another month. Being lonely was my way of life.
Now, I bought myself an enormous mansion in Sicily. The same thing, kill, murder, impress, make a good job of it, and then find the fucking bosses and kill them. No big deal, but once they had heard what had happened in Russia. I had to improvise again as they came up with defenses for how I had been acting for Russia, so, oh, that took the juice.
Still, I kept going; with this, I could eat wagyu, but when I had no appetite after being poisoned with polonium, yeah, I was getting better and even got a boost, but my rage was really needed. There was work to be done in the Sicilian mansion; there were ugly lamps that I wanted to change, but I had no choice but to go decorating.
Damon was sitting on the couch, looking at the floor, and he felt like his soul was going to explode.
Mimosa said, " Mimi ate 230 grams of wagyu tenderloin today, drank three cups of coffee and four cans of Coca-Cola. The worst of the burns from the polonium are healing, but the tomato poison-dipped whip left permanent scars on Mimi's back and took away her appetite. Weight, well, it's something like 42 kilos. There's still a lot of rage when she thinks about how you fucked, and now we've got a 20% increase in fight clubs, surprise, surprise, so Mimi's suffering because of you, but I'll let you know how we're doing. Her killer side enjoyed very much. She killed one guy by digging his liver out, carefully, burning bigger veins with lighter, and then she was crouched next him, watching him to die. It took three hours. This was one human. Let's just say that she threw up from disgust at house when the job was done. "
Samuel sighed and went to get a bottle of vodka and drank like a thirsty man. He wanted not to hear. He was a fucking healer, and that wolf just told all the facts that hit hard. Adam was suffering. He was trying to cook.
He didn't sleep; he thought about Mimi's condition, his own weakness, and how bad a mate he was these days. He had said to Mimi himself that a fit mate always takes care of his own and is loyal.
He could blame Bran, but the fact was that it was their choice to fuck and drink, knowing what Mimi was going through, what she was going through. Adam knew one reason he started drinking and fucking was that he was ashamed that he couldn't get over seven of those satanic fight clubs done. Mimi had done ten of them with nobody's help; it had taken two doctors to get him well, and now Mimi had nobody.
Then I had to go to Belgium, the Netherlands and Luxembourg, Denmark to get through. There was another month of spending a hectic week in each country. I didn't know myself in the mirror anymore, the creature I saw, the one with the raw rage in its eyes, emaciated, bruised, always hurting or aching. I had killed so many and this pure pleasure tore my soul apart. I was no better than Sark. I tortured these. It wasn't me, and then it was me. I knew I didn't want to hear any excuse for why the men were celebrating.
Adam wasn't sleeping. The vision that Mimosa had sent into his head when Mimi looked in the mirror, and Adam saw how truly awful this had already been for Mimi, and they couldn't intervene, haunted him. He went into the shower, looked at his fit, perfect, intact body, and saw only that vision.
Mimi whose expression was furious, clothes hanging off her, hands shaking, either from pain or rage, as she had lifted her shirt and looked at the deep gashes in her side, where the pus was oozing rot. He had felt that disgust coming from her of feeling that pleasure. Adam didn't know how the hell he was going to endure this.
Damon wasn't talking to anyone. He had retreated to a dark room to sit, not eat, not drink blood unless Samuel had sobered up enough to preach. Still, there was the danger that Salvatore was so loaded, so enraged, so powerless, so disappointed, so bloodthirsty that he had sunk his teeth into Samuel's neck and drunk him dry. It didn't kill Samuel. But that didn't stop him from trying to help Damon.
England, Ireland and Scotland. These three took a month to do because there was so fucking much to do that a week wasn't quite enough time. They all had fight clubs, sniper work, mysteries, and street fights.
None of the guys called me at any point, and I certainly wouldn't have answered, not even when I wasn't in the mood to listen to apologies or any explanations. I just hoped that my rage would last until the end of the gig, and now I didn't even know where I was going to go to recover.
Still, I was getting pretty determined not to let anyone know as soon as the gig was over because fuck it, I can do without it; it's difficult, but it's compulsory, so I don't need anyone. Let them fuck and drink. Their conscience will drive them to fuck again soon.
I hadn't counted how many times I'd been in a fever and sick, but I'd done everything I demanded. It was good to be immortal and know that my body would beat the infection eventually.
Then, it was the turn of the yakuza—another month. Now I bought a house in Tokyo. I directed a couple of warehouses there when Reddington asked for the address earlier. A couple of months earlier. There was a lot of all kinds of stuff accumulated that had been given to Reddington as payment for the gigs. It was already pretty full.
When I went to the house, I realized I was actually fucking rich already. I don't have to do gigs so hard anymore. I have money, and even though I buy houses, I still seem to accumulate it. Now, I have a lot of valuables, carpets, statues, and antiques.
When the yakuza was done, I had been on this job for ten months, three more to go. It was fucking demanding to get the fucking Yakuza and the ninjas out of there, but after a month of doing the job, I got that destroyed, too. I had now got all the fight clubs done, all the mysteries, all the sabotage. I would have three more months of thrashing around in the jungles.
Every couple of days, Mimosa would tell the men all about Mimi's vital signs, her blood pressure, pulse, temperature, and the pain and damage she was in, and they could do nothing but listen and suffer.
If they couldn't commit to saving the world, then Mimi would suffer for it. Still, as Mimosa was an honest-to-God magical fighting vampire wolf who was also pretty fucked up with men, she would tell them about the fights. She could send a snippet of the fight into their minds, Mimi's thoughts. There would still be three months of Mimi to go, and then Mimosa still wouldn't tell them about her future plans at all. What she and Mimi were going to do.
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone