Chapitre 178: 18. Runaway.
I, Mimi Springcove, the leader of a worldwide paramilitary resistance organization, found myself seated behind my desk at one of our bases in Brazil. I was engaged in a conversation with my NSA handlers, who had recently arrived. The Brazilian federal police had made an official request for our assistance after discovering several bodies. We had helped them install surveillance equipment to witness the dumping of the bodies and get recordings. Although our organization's involvement had not yet been made official, we had done it out of kindness and good intentions.
As I explained the details to my handlers, I described the man's behavior, his associates, and those whores that had been operated on, referred to as "bimbos," and their involvement with drugs. However, it seemed that the drugs alone wouldn't be enough to bring him down, as he had a permit because of his ownership of a large cattle farm. The actual issue lay in his mistreatment of women, keeping them in cages, and the overall misconduct that was taking place. My handlers were involving even the UN, as these actions violated the rules of prisoner and subject treatment.
Furthermore, I intended to get the press involved, exposing the abuse suffered by both American women and men at the hands of this deranged individual. I had enlisted the help of Jarod and Miss Parker to guide the NSA and Brazilian federal police on how to charge Dr. Sorensen while minimizing the chance of his defense claiming insanity. They provided a list of specific interview questions that would lead him to incriminate himself fully. Once we had everyone on board, penetrating the compound would be relatively easy.
Although I had a substantial number of people in my organization who could have expedited the process, it was important to handle this situation officially, minimizing our direct involvement and relying on the proper authorities to take action.
After my handlers finally went to the central hub to talk with Salvatores and Magnum, I was starting to feel tired. None of them were yet a part of the NSA, so they hadn't been involved in our discussion yet. This was a common occurrence, but it would take some time to get them into the NSA. It was a priority to do so after the rescue, not in the middle of it.
I walked up to my door, locked it, and went to my special safe. Opening it, I took out three bags of blood. Sitting on the sofa, I started to enjoy myself. Euphoria set in as I drained the second bag and quickly finished the third. I lay on the sofa, blissfully enjoying my state, not thinking about anything at all. Ahh... this was just perfect for me. Pure bliss, even better than the high one can get from angel blood.
Suddenly, there was a knock on my door. Oh, shit. Who the hell was disturbing my bliss? I disposed of my evidence, made sure I looked presentable, and opened the door.
Alaric looked at me sharply and asked, "Why the hell did you lock your door? Are you okay?"
I replied, "I'm fine. I locked it because I wanted some peace and quiet. After all, I just negotiated with the damn NSA for the past three hours. So give me a damn break and don't keep bothering me!"
Alaric looked at me and said, "Well, good for you, but you're needed in the central hub. There are a few issues at Sark's facility."
I rolled my eyes. My euphoria was dissipating quickly, replaced by irritation.
I said to Alaric, "Fine, I'll come and do the work for you. After all, I'm the only one here who knows this damn job!"
I strolled past him into the central hub and approached a desk where about ten men and two Salvatores were discussing how to take out this site.
I said to them, "Let me see what the problem is here."
Number nine said, "We don't have enough destroyers to cover the east side, and we have a window of opportunity to strike. Should we bring in some outsiders? I could get us vampires."
I rolled my eyes and said, "Then do it. Get your vampires. Make it happen and don't just think, but act."
I glared at him and asked, "Anything else? I have my own work to do, so if you have any more 'problems,' please tell me before I go and try to do my own work!"
Everyone was quiet. No one spoke up. I raised my eyebrow, waiting for questions, but as there were none, I turned around and walked back to my office.
It was time to return to work, and I wasn't feeling too good about it, not in any way. I made myself a cup of coffee, hoping it would help, but I was still incredibly irritated. I started sorting through the procurements and debriefing notes again.
Wulfe had been in Magnum's physiotherapy for five days, while some pack members had been captured for two weeks. On top of that, I was being bombarded with stupid questions. Dexter and Murdock were in America, while Colin had moved to Bolivia due to some crisis, so he wasn't around either.
I was trying to find the perfect cars for us, as our current ones were old and needed to be replaced. The locker system in them would be removed and either sold or given to those transitioning to civilian life. We would then get new cars and install lockers, making them ready for use. However, it wasn't easy for several reasons.
Firstly, I was only given the best offers that my teams had received, which meant there were only a few types or brands of cars to choose from. This limited my selection, and sometimes I didn't like those brands very much, but I had to find the most suitable ones for us based on their intended use, not my personal preferences.
This objective and clinical approach was often frustrating, especially when Damon would send feelings or sensations through our bond, making me even more irritated as I experienced his pain, discomfort, and desperation. I felt powerless to help him at this point. Blood was the only thing that made this situation slightly easier, but I didn't have time to enjoy myself or relieve any pressure. The rest of the team would go to the gym to release their frustrations, but I wasn't in the mood.
After dealing with the cars, I would have to check the debriefing reports and organize the loot into their proper places. Magnum was mostly occupied with getting Wulfe back on track or planning the rescue, so he couldn't focus much on the warehouses. I couldn't simply dump everything in there, as there was no one available to sort it out or put it to use. I had to find new places for our belongings and direct them accordingly, along with managing the lists.
As Colin and Salvatores were both busy, I had to manage my clinic on my own. I had a lot on my plate, but I didn't share the extent of my workload with anyone. I was determined to push through without asking for help. I had been doing this work for so long that I knew I could handle it, even though my workload had increased by about 300% since the beginning. I had to make some tough decisions and my mind wasn't at its best, but I kept all of this to myself. I didn't let anyone know how much I was struggling with my ever-increasing workload.
I focused solely on my work, surrounded by the smell of coffee, paper, and various scents of visitors who came in with their problems or updates on our ongoing projects. Days went by, and I occasionally felt some sensations from Damon, but they were brief and weak. I rarely had enough time to react and send him my love or strength. I was just too focused on my work.
I had to spend an insane amount of time on the phone. It could be someone from the NSA, FBI, or a reporter wanting to get a piece of America's sweetheart who was saving her pack members. I tried to direct all press inquiries to Alaric or Salvatore, but occasionally, a persistent reporter would get through. It wasn't ideal for my reputation to hang up on them, so I had to give them something.
There were so many variables in this rescue operation, but Salvatores assured me that the pack could handle it. They had a better connection to Damon and the others through their own hive, so they had an idea of their condition. Of course, it hadn't been easy for them, being drugged and operated on, but it had only been three weeks since we were captured. I reminded myself that I usually endured much longer before being freed.
As our plan slowly came together, I couldn't help but be slightly sarcastic. Soon, they would be saved and ready to become the victims of the century, while I had been through much worse in my life and didn't want to be in the spotlight. But Mariella wanted this rescue to be public so she could bask in the limelight with Damon.
As I stood in the central hub, where we now had federal police helping us make a plan and provide assistance, I realized I needed to escape to my office and grab a few bags of blood. I just couldn't handle all this jargon anymore.
Wulfe had just returned to work, but there were several missions he needed to give his opinion on, leaving little time for us to spend together. He was still quite irritated from his sick leave, and of course, I didn't mention anything about Damon sending increasingly disturbing emotions - desperation, pain, disgust, and a sense of weakness. I kept my struggles to myself, not wanting to burden Wulfe further. I knew that a good, long spout of sniping would be exactly what I needed, along with some fresh, warm blood in my mouth.
"Mimi, what do you think about this plan?" Number three suddenly asked me.
I had not been focusing on their conversation. It took little time for me to get my mind on the matter and replied, "If you can get silent vehicles close enough, it's probably fine. We still have no idea about surveillance in the forest."
Number three responded, "Yes, we're aware of that. I was referring to using a spell to ensure that any cameras are offline."
I frowned and said, "Yes, but that might alert the guards and make them investigate."
The man from the federal police assured me, "It's all good. We'll be ready to take them out. We will be stationed here and here, as the likely exits are here and here. We can see them and eliminate them. Then your group will strike here and here," he pointed to two locations.
It seemed like a logical plan. I tried to redirect my thoughts away from my craving for that bag of blood.
I focused my mind and said, "What kind of terrain are we dealing with? Do we have satellite scans? Are there any hazards like bogs or landmines? And how professional are the guards? Sorenson, the blonde one, didn't seem very skilled, but there could be surprises."
Number nine searched for pictures and found something to show me.
He handed it to me and said, "Here are the scans of the land. As you can see, there are no major surprises. The guards are mostly hired hands with little military background, so we don't expect them to be highly professional."
I sighed and explained, "I need more recent scans. The one we have is almost three weeks old, and we have no way of knowing if they are prepared for us since we've taken the corpses. Give me more recent scans so I can make sure they haven't prepared anything against us."
As Number Ten was about to speak, I quickly interjected, "It only takes one knowledgeable person to make this surprise attack too difficult for us. We need to ensure there are no mines, extra alarms, or any other potential threats. Get me the scans and locations where one can acquire mines and such. Cross-reference them with this area to confirm they have made no purchases. Also, keep a close eye on them through the satellites and cameras we have in place. Make it happen. I understand it will take time, but you all assured me that Damon and the others can handle it. Let's make this as safe as possible. It won't look good if the press gets blown up by a damn mine."
The team nodded attentively, and a few of them left to arrange for the satellites to be in position as soon as possible.
I turned to Number Nine and said, "I'll be in my office. Inform me when you have the information, and I'll review it. If anything seems suspicious, I'll be in the shower and after that, enjoying some coffee. You make sure Wulfe's mission has everything they need for their operation against Sark's facility."
The federal police were particularly interested in Sark, so I assigned Alaric as their contact. It was up to him to determine how much information to share with them. I wanted to delegate responsibilities instead of making all the decisions myself.
I walked to my office, heading straight for my stash of blood. I took out four bags, draining two of them right then and there as my hands trembled from the need. After the first two bags, I sat behind my desk and drank the other two. Ahh, a sense of euphoria began to set in, although less intense. It would suffice for now; I didn't have time to be high for hours. Perhaps later, when the facility quieted down, I could indulge in more blood and fully embrace the euphoria. For now, this was just what I needed to calm my nerves and feel more like myself, less agitated. It was exactly what I needed.
After consuming the blood, I made myself a cup of coffee and headed to the shower, washing away the sweat and frustration. Feeling clean was such a wonderful sensation. I dried off and grabbed my coffee cup, sipping the hot liquid as I started reviewing the consultations from my clinic. Everything was perfect now. With enough blood, the rescue operation would go smoothly. There was nothing to worry about. Everything was fine and good.
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
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