Chapitre 21: A Matter of Perspective
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Vampire Rule N°19: A master is only as good as his servant.
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- Gotham Heights, John Harker's Appartment
If someone was to venture within the home of Gotham's most powerful vampire, who also happens to be the only one, and for some unknown reason managed not to get noticed and promptly eliminated by the ever so thirsty blood sucker, they would hear nothing but the sounds of debauchery.
Whimpers, giggles, moans and deep laughs.
Sweet nothings and pleas for more pain, more pleasure.
'Am I a bad person?' John thought, not for the first time, while sinking his teeth back onto Sindy's thigh, or was it Wendy? He couldn't remember.
*Moan*
"John~"
Nor could he name the girl mindlessly moaning beneath him, lost between the fire in her loins and the ecstasy of every kiss he laid upon her neck.
Or the blonde woman who had already lost herself, looking so innocent as she slept on the king sized bed, despite the wild hedonism all around her.
And yet he could name their blood types, give an exact description of their diets and workout plans, by now he could even start identifying their ancestry from the taste of their blood.
'German Irish.' He guessed while she attempted to crush his head with her legs, but he continued to drink until she devolved into a shaking and moaning mess a few seconds away from fainting.
It might be exhaustion, it might be pleasure, or even blood loss, but who cares?
In a matter of seconds, she was gone and so were the others, all of them resting in his bed after yet another night spent trying and failing to make their respective relationships something deeper and more fulfilling.
It was pretty cute.
People would probably call him a scumbag, those same people would also commit greater sins if they only had a fraction of his power.
He reached for a blanket and covered their naked bodies, shielding them from the cold while he stepped out of the room and onto his shower.
The warm water on his skin was a luxury he had sorely missed during his stay in the crackhouse, which he kept renting to use it as a hideout in case he ever got stuck in the East End during a sunrise.
He washed away the fluids and enjoyed the comfort, trying to ignore that ugly feeling of guilt that showed up every once in a while.
Leaving without making them breakfast just didn't sit well with him, that's just rude, alas he was really not a morning person these days.
Was he a bad person though?
"I guess it's a matter of perspective." He concluded, leaving and making himself presentable for another busy night.
He closed the door, leaving the girls behind with nothing but some flowers and a note that was as fake as it was romantic.
Going down a building that didn't reek of tobbaco, liquors and various bodily fluids, stairs that weren't littered with rusty needles and broken vials. He opened a door that had yet to be stolen by a dopefiend, and came face to face with the one and only Reginald Cousins.
"Evening, bossman," The dark skinned man was the first to greet him, opening the door of his black Lincoln.
The man loved that car, this gift might've done more to secure his loyalty than the blood bond ever could.
"Hello, Reginald." He answered, sliding inside the passenger seat, he looked at his first servant's form.
It had only been a few days since the blood bond was complete and he officially became his ghoul, but the changes both physical and mental were obvious.
Gone was the gaunt, fragile and scarred body of a man who had abused his flesh for decades.
Gone were the yellowed, bloodshot eyes looking everywhere and nowhere at the same time, stuck between fear and lust for petty crime, a way to make his ten dollars and earn his blast at the expanse of everyone else.
Reginald stood taller, more confident, the power of the blood had roused his appetite and shaped his body into that of a worthy servant, with strong muscles and sturdy bones so that he might do his master's bidding unopposed.
His wardrobe had seen some changes, the incendiary kind, and was justly replaced with some new and proper clothes for a proper man.
Suits, coats and some casual clothes that didn't smell worse than Snoop Dog's pet rat.
His wild, poorly maintained afro had been abondoned in favour of a practical and more mature buzzcut.
It played a great part in improving his mental, along with the pride of a man who had achieved freedom from the tyranny of old age through loyalty alone.
Where the old him would have scoffed and laughed at anyone who'd ever suggest he did something as inconceivable as going back to school or learning a trade, it was Reginald who decided that he needed more knowledge to serve him properly and managed to get himself a place in community college despite not even finishing high school.
It was Reginald who started hounding his lawyer and accountant looking to understand the nightmare of paperwork.
It was Reginlad who started working out, took self-defense classes and started getting some practise in the local shooting range.
'We in America, home of school shootings, so better make the most of it.' He had said, earning himself more than a few strange looks from a passing grandma.
It wouldn't be a stretch to say that the man Bubbles once was had died so that Reginald Cousins might be born.
The Renfield to his Dracula.
"You're looking good," John said, pleased with the effort the man had put into his appearance.
"Thank you, sir." Reginald answered with a reserved smile while turning the key, "But that's some gay ass shit you just said."
Yeah, some things never change.
"Piss off." John grinned, not bothering to hide his sharp fangs from someone who was already aware of the dark gift.
Of course, he didn't tell him everything, that would be foolish.
What kind of reckless idiot would infrom anyone about things like the priceless immaterial tool that gave them so much power and leverage over everyone else?
No, the Vampire System was, is and will be a secret.
The same thing went for his true origins, telling someone that their world was nothing but entertainment for the masses was a sure way of either making them go insane, or think that you went insane.
In both cases, it was bad for business.
And what a dreadful business it was, growing in power as a vampire, drinking galleons upon galleons of blood, completing the often cruel tasks the system gave him for some experience, all to reach the next level of potency.
Hoping that he'll achieve some real power before the countless shits polluting this world decide to hit the fan and make everyone's life miserable.
Then again, he does the same thing.
Even those who only met him for a day, for a few moments, those whose interests went against his, or those who had the misfortune of being at the wrong place, at the wrong time.
'At least, Max is happier with me in her life.' He thought.
The same couldn't be said of poor Vicki Vale, who was so unlucky that she attracted both his and the system's attraction.
That's what happens when you're a canon character.
[Task: "First Taste of the Spotlight"
Objective:
Feed from Vicky Vale, the first prominent figure you have encountered in this world. She is both ambitious and driven, making her a valuable source of power. Successfully feed from her without causing suspicion or harm, and ensure that your actions leave her unaware of your true nature. Use charm, subtlety, and your abilities to draw her closer.
Rewards:
+100 EXP
New Ability Unlocked: Dominate (Enhances your control over the minds of your targets, allowing you to implant suggestions and alter their memories temporarily.)
Bonus Objectives (Optional):
Seduction: Gain her trust and affection. (+50 EXP)
Failure Penalty:
Loss of Vicky's trust, resulting in a potential enemy and negative reputation impact in Gotham's social circles.]
It was tempting, too tempting to be ignored.
So once more John Harker would set out to hunt.
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone