Chapitre 450: 9. You're The First, The Last, My everything.
When I left Utah, I was 38 kilos. I did not have many muscles. I was operating much of by the power of my rage and oh boy, did I have it a lot. I was pissed off, enraged, fucked up as bad as can be. But ready to fend for myself. As usual. I was now Flea, not Mimi, and I did not require anyone, as no one really wanted me.
What Bran and those alphas had done left me feeling dirty, somehow cheap, and used, and I kept that ugly feeling under control by my rage. My mood fluctuated quite a lot. One minute I was full of rage and did not need anyone, remembering that woman telling me about Damon's message, and the next thing I remembered how safe I felt when I slept in his arms.
I had an orange Maserati when I left Utah to drive toward Chicago. It was a good, fast car and now there was no one next to me telling me not fuck to other drivers, so I let my road rage come out. I had no idea what parts of me was out, my rage burned like a white sun in my mind and it could be that my darkness was there as well.
Oh, boy the whole road was full of idiots, blinds, people who really should not have a driving license in the first place, and cowards who didn't have the courage actually got that damn car moving but they slowly made their way in front of me.
I had god damn Maserati, meant to drive fast, and not crawl in the city. As I drove, when I was not fucking up with all other road users. I thought, what next? What am I gonna do next? Now I was ready for those good old happy moments.
And I imagined in my mind how maybe I would tell Damon what Bran did to me. It would be perfect if Darling guy would be out. His core and Bran might get himself some one-on-one time in the shed with one angry husband. But then again, if he continues to have fucking mode on, I am nothing to him.
If only my Damon would come out. Maybe he would teach me to enjoy sex and touch again because, at the moment, I was cringing if someone touched me. After all, those alphas, touched me all the time.
No doctor Damon because he probably put me to sleep to have IV and nutrition and might be very worried but stern, I do not want to be weak, and vulnerable as I am in my dream in that cage, having a miscarriage, feeling flooding, the pain, the smell. The loneliness too. But like I said, I don't always get what I want.
I went to Chicago to be by myself because Adam wasn't free yet and he was probably Bran's lapdog again. I didn't even know if Adam would ever believe me, or Damon. Would they care? They might be just happy that Bran punished me because I was out in the heat. No one would want to listen to what happened, actually. No one cares for me.
So I put again all of those feelings of needing someone, wanting to be with someone, in deep in my mind, one dark room, a room with no lock and no door, so those feelings would not get in the way when I tried to live my life. It was just that I was not supposed to have anyone, not permanently. Probably Mimosa had had her heat too, or at least some good time with men. I did not.
I did not sleep; I did not even go to even the spa, but to the gym. I tried to get my shape in order, but there was no Damon-made food for me, no implant to tell me to eat. My rage made me sloppy and the only thing was my rage in my mind.
Bran usually ate all of my food unless Damon told him not to. Or if he didn't name my foods, and still that did not always prevent Bran from eating my food. He had told me during the miscarriages that he loves to eat every house of my food first because he is alpha and he sees my food best.
My food is the most nutritious because my metabolism is the fastest in the pack, so my food is the most calorie-dense. And he, as marrok, as pack leader, had the right to eat anything, and I as female, was at the bottom of the pack at least when it came to Bran.
So, in his view, I should eat what was left. Thank god Damon had done me my guide, and I had studied it quite a lot in my years as I had money, and skills to myself, to make food for myself too. Food that was suitable for me. But not now. I was not in the cooking mood, not a bit.
I'd had a week and hadn't gotten my weight up terribly when Mimosa came into my mind and announced that the European tour was on. It was time to save the world once again. Mimosa did not ask what had happened to me, why I was full of rage and in not good shape at all. Oh, fuck. I'd have two days to get ready, and Adam, Damon, Bran, and Samuel were at the party.
So there goes our pack. Fucking strangers while had fucked more or less before that party a month, or maybe he had just called men to continue to fuck those werewolf bitches. I did not care. I took my work attitude, and now it was time to focus, to be a world saver, and Flea, too. Mimi was put to sleep. Feelings were weakness that hindered my progress and I did not do anything to them.
I called the fleas and told them the main points of the gig. Rob was there, and he promised to start to look at European fleas if there were free agents, so to speak, to help me. He also insisted on some medical help, but I told him that Mirella would suffice, and since I would spend quite a lot of time in my houses all around Europe and the world, there would be med bays available too.
I did not tell him anything about my shape or what had happened. I mean if I had been a reasonable human, or even a creature I would have told him, and asked for additional support for fight clubs and others, but I was no such thing, so reason, only rage and will to do this alone.
I had just gotten through one of the worst periods of my life alone, without anyone, and the same attitude continued. No help, no support. I am fine. I can handle this. Not the wisest attitude, but I never thought of myself very wise person.
Mimosa didn't actually know where Charles or Magnum was. The gig was going to be demanding and long with mafias, jungles all. I was ready to get it done. Head-on. Jake would be on his cruise for another month and maybe I could direct him to other jobs so he would not stick around me.
As much as I loved Jake, I did not want him to touch me. I was not even sure if would I let Damon touch me. But if he only knew what had happened, he might have to find a way. At least he would be stubborn enough. I was deeply traumatized by whole thing and now no men could touch me, touch was something that set me off and badly so.
First up was Portugal. Another bullfight between the fight club and Demon. Me and Mimosa and Mirella. The 3 of us. The implant in my stomach had already taken a hit in Angelus' torture, so I didn't feel hungry either. I had already noticed it in Chicago. Mirella was no fighter, and I had to use my spare time in the gym to teach her to fight. As well as Mimosa needed some teaching, too.
We learned to work as a team and Mirella showed me how to load myself up, by making molecular concentrates, so there would be a lot of drugs, over-the-counter medications, vitamins, all kinds of stuff. She taught me to do dental solution where I put these tablets to dissolve and then it was put in small bottles.
So one or two bottles before a fight would keep me loaded up in order for me to make poisons effectively. That thing helped a lot in the fight as I got bulls pretty much out of the game with one bite and we had then time to focus on that true enemy, it could be a demon, usually and Mirella started to learn their anatomy, she was a quick study and found fast me to spots or organs to rip off so the demon would be a puddle of goo fast.
My rage, my darkness boosted me into frenzy of ripping and mauling and I felt some pleasure, when I finished off my enemy. I was more or less beast, loving killing and felt no much anything else.
My eating. Or lack of hunger was one thing, as I was not in the best shape at all. This was one thing I had to remember, and luckily Mirella and Mimosa were separated, and they reminded and fed me. I even took the damage in Portugal, but luckily I was already healing, and Mirella is a pretty damn good medical person. It was good to have someone, at least, who looked after me a little.
I couldn't stand to be touched when Mirella tried to treat me. I could barely stand her touch because she was a woman. But if a man tried to touch me, no. It was excellent way to get themselves killed in fight club, just one touch and that was it. We were in Portugal for a week, and then we moved on to Spain—the same thing. Fight clubs and a mystery, and street fighting.
Then there is also sabotage. We were now with the three of us, so we got things done pretty well. I also used the fleas wherever I could because they were very useful. Mirella had a hobby. We would if we had time to go and capture different demons and then Mirella would make a live autopsy of them. She made a book about demon anatomy same time and showed me different anatomical things that I could use in fights.
But all the fight clubs were fucked up and very difficult. They had at least the worst, strongest demons you could find anywhere. And I wasn't in top shape, not even close. It helped when I knew where to strike, but all of those anatomical places were not so easy to hit. So even though I got to know how to kill them, it didn't mean that I killed them any faster or more efficiently, because demons also knew their vulnerabilities and protected those parts of their anatomy quite a lot.
My rage had a lot of use. It was my driving force and Mirella and Mimosa both knew that my rage was needed and a few fucked up clubs where Mimosa was with me; She had her rage on, too. Mirella had then two patients to be cared for, except I was very good at hiding my condition and letting her focus on taking care of Mimosa. I had my "I am fine " attitude on point.
My pain and my discomfort did not really matter because I just had to keep going. I was saving the world now. After Spain, we moved on to France. Again, there were 14 fight clubs. This was one hard tour, and I did not even think about what shape I would be in by the end of this tour. That was not part of the equation right now. Only my world-saving was what mattered.
In France, we had only a week to do everything. That meant that there were 2 fight clubs a night. It was pretty damn tight. Mirella had to work with me hard to keep me working and able to fight and do my job. But the rage helps. The rage that keeps it all nice and neat and doesn't bunch up. And boy was that rage born and born again, and now it seemed like it wasn't going anywhere.
France followed Germany and with it, the 17 clubs. They were, if it's possible, the most difficult clubs so far. They have always been my Achilles heel, always been the worst, and now it seemed they were overwhelming. I was badly hurt there—an infection. But kept my rage on, I was fine attitude helped too.
Jake had returned from his holiday and I had put him to take care of various street fights because he knew also so many good ways to irritate the right people to get into good street fights. Why these fights were important?
Well, when more street fights occurred, police and authorities would pay attention more to what was going on. And since few medical facilities, evil ones, tested their drugs on narcs and whores, more police on the streets meant fewer opportunities for these evil scientists to recruit their involuntary subjects. Not all of these drugs were anything that caused euphoria.
No, there could be even new bacteria to be tested or antibiotics, and sometimes those drugs killed, sometimes they could be catalysts for birthing a whole new strain of bacteria. Resistant to that particular new powerful antibiotic. No one wanted more resistant bacteria in the world. There was enough for them already.
I was sick, in infection, and did not feel too perky. But I just didn't have time to be lying in bed now with a fever. I just had to keep going. And I didn't say anything to Mirella that I had an infection. Nothing at all. I let that infection simmer. My body would get rid of it in some time. World-saving continued. I multitasked. Did my fights, and did some flea work at the side, too. Then we went to Belgium, Amsterdam, Luxembourg. England, Ireland, Scotland, Denmark, Greece, Turkey. Poland. Ukraine.
Country after another, and I just kept on going. Mirella and Mimosa did the absolute best they could, but me as my rage was fully blown open, in my super-focused attitude, I was not the easiest person to be around. I did not think anything about than next club and the next thing to do. Mimosa tried to get as many fleas on board as she possibly could.
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone