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98.75% Salvatore Saga, Part One:My life with Damon. / Chapter 554: 33. You Give Love A Bad Name.

บท 554: 33. You Give Love A Bad Name.

Damien seethed with fury as the alpha heat intensified. Damon had cunningly isolated him, seizing full control. The goddamn heat had given Damon a newfound confidence, rekindling his relationship with Mimi. Determined to break free, Damien yearned to confront Mimi once more, his desperation fueling his resolve. It was time for shed session again and a bad one.

He had been cautious, not wanting to stray too far from Damon's likeness, but now, rage clouded his judgment, urging him to take charge. No longer would he skulk in the shadows, whispering and manipulating Damon. Damon had shown him how vulnerable he was during the last alpha female heat, and the mere thought of Mimi being with Damon again, perhaps in the Azores, felt like a death sentence.

Despite having a backup plan, Damien desired to inhabit Damon's body, deceive Mimi further, triumph over Damon, and ultimately obliterate him. They may be twins, but Damien would be the one left standing once he completed that session, revealing Damon's true wickedness to Mimi. He had the perfect plan to achieve this, to extinguish their love once and for all. No more love between them, as Damien's cunning manipulation would ensure Mimi's love would be lost forever. 

And the 14 weeks that those two had worked together he had gained power, he had slowly but surely gotten himself stronger and the time would come when he would bust out, capture Mimi, and do cruel and raw shed sessions, not now 26 weeks but as fast as he could he would obliterate her fitness, weaken her almost dead and then he would be strong enough to kill Damon. it would mean that Damon would most likely feel him to be a separate part, but it would be too late for that. This had to work as he would not have any more hiding place where to retreat to hiding when he would come out fully. 

As I made my way to a grand Pennsylvania mansion, I stopped at a gas station to grab a slurry, a steaming cup of coffee, and a couple of filled bagels. It was then that I heard a familiar voice behind me.

"Hello, Baby," Damon greeted me, his voice sending shivers down my spine. Suddenly, his arms enveloped me, trapping mine against my sides, and before I knew it, I felt a sharp prick in my neck. The distinct odor of wet dog filled the air, and as darkness engulfed me, Damon whispered, "Sleepy time, Baby..."

When I regained consciousness, I found myself tightly bound to a table. Another shed session, I thought to myself, that we were in a shed this time and not some eerie castle. Damon seemed on edge, pacing around and muttering to himself, his words indistinguishable. Desperate to escape, I tried to pull away, only to see Damon's smile widen in amusement.

"Welcome back, Baby," he sneered. "Let's skip the foreplay this time. This device is quite remarkable. You can control the extent of the damage inflicted. It's a blend of my design and medical facilities, like Sark's."

Damon turned his attention to a screen, rapidly typing commands. "Let's start with 40% permanent damage to your liver, pancreas, heart, and intestines. Then, 35% impairment to your skeletal system. We'll add a 20% loss of muscle strength, and for my personal amusement, a 50% reduction in your immune defense."

He noted it all down, seemingly pleased. I still had my clothes on, a minor comfort amidst the impending torment.

"Don't worry," Damon reassured me, his voice chillingly calm. "You won't feel a thing when the tiny fibers in the wounds do their job. They just add up a bit of possibility of infection."

With that, he activated the machine. I felt something burrow into my liver, tearing it apart relentlessly with its minuscule teeth. My pancreas and heart suffered bruises and cuts, causing waves of pain to radiate through my body. The machine, with its eerie humming, seemed to target my heart, as if hammers were relentlessly beating against it using some form of ultrasound. Inside my intestines, a device equipped with small rollers cut a hole and began grinding the walls, causing excruciating cramping and tearing sensations.

Damon continued to explain the process in his collected tone, his words falling on deaf ears as my focus was consumed by the burning agony in my bones. They had been drilled, and a bone-soaking liquid was poured into the openings, only to be sucked out moments later as the machine measured the regeneration process. The cycle repeated, amplifying the searing pain in my bones.

I couldn't discern whether the burning ache in my bones was more unbearable than the deep, cramping torment in my intestines, or if the cutting, throbbing agony in my liver surpassed them all, or perhaps my suffering was simply a blend of all three.

My muscles were repeatedly injected with a mysterious substance, causing them to ache and strain. The relentless machine punctually shredded my muscles, tearing them apart. There was no respite from its relentless torment.

Damon, observing our progress on the monitors, would occasionally leave to grab a quick bite, his footsteps echoing in the shed. He paced back and forth like a restless panther, muttering to himself in a frenzy.

The scent of passionfruit hung in the air, fleeting yet distinct. In brief moments, he would pause, his brows furrowed as if reconsidering his actions. But then the stench of wet dogs would overwhelm the space, clouding my thoughts with pain. He would regain control, resuming his relentless harassment. 

The machine shifted its approach, now employing enzymatic destruction. Digestive fluids were injected into my gut, and the machine rolled over me, causing excruciating pain. The torment persisted unabated. Finally, after two agonizing weeks, the machine came to a halt, leaving my liver and the rest of my body 40% destroyed.

Damon's satisfaction was evident. He moved me to another table, securing elastic circles with knuckles to my ankles. My feet were attached to the ankle restraints, and Damon twisted them into sharp, multi-pronged studs that tore at my already wounded skin. The doughnuts ascended, twisting slightly, causing the skin on my legs to split wide open.

My hands were bound tightly to my sides, but to my surprise, I discovered they were free from elbows. Damon swiftly rectified this, fitting them with their own doughnuts that mercilessly grated and shredded the skin, muscles, nerves, and even the blood vessels. Blood flowed freely, and whenever a doughnut reached a bleeding spot, it sent a jolt of electricity, sealing the vein shut.

Damon rendered me voiceless, my vocal cords paralyzed, ensuring I couldn't scream or make a sound. He then connected a central line to a menacing machine. With precision, he inserted a tube directly into my aorta. "Behold, my baby, this is a reverse dialysis contraption. Instead of purifying your blood, it will taint it, placing an immense strain on your already damaged liver and relentlessly assaulting your kidneys."

I watched in horror as the machine extracted my blood, returning it to my heart in a dark and filthy state. "Oh, my baby, this apparatus also infuses your blood with easily absorbed forms of Iridium, Vanadium, Cobalt, Rhodium, Copper, Platinum, and Silver."

Panic consumed me, I was utterly doomed. Damon then maneuvered a sinister device between my legs, and I felt the sharp blades and merciless rollers tear into my most intimate parts, ravaging both my pussy and my ass.

"See, baby, this will prevent Charles and Adam from fucking you again in shape when there is nothing left to violate!" Damon's voice was filled with triumph.

Once the dialysis machine had thoroughly contaminated my blood and saturated it with enough metals, Damon removed the restraints from my limbs, revealing the raw, exposed flesh torn to the bone in some places. He flipped me over onto my stomach and tightly bound me to another table.

With a press of a button, a full-body stabber mercilessly pounded into my abdomen and thighs, reaching up to my ribs. He affixed a device to my back, and the heavy rollers began their relentless journey along my spine, applying increasing pressure until each vertebra snapped, followed by my ribs.

The device continued to intensify the force on my back, flattening me until my ribs cracked once more. The excruciating power of the stabber tore at my insides as if my very being was being torn apart. Then, without respite, he turned me over onto my back, allowing me a moment to recover before subjecting me to the same torment all over again. Now lying on my back in the machine, the relentless stabber assaulted my spine, while the unrelenting pressure of the heavy rollers crushed my hips and chest.

The metallic taste filled my mouth as the treatment took effect, causing my body to tremble uncontrollably. A deep ache pulsed through my infected wounds, tearing at my already fragile state. The device had ruthlessly shattered my spine and chest multiple times, leaving me a mere shell of my former self. The pain was numbed by the destruction of my tissues, which now lay lifeless and unresponsive.

Damon approached me, pleasure etched on his face. "Looks like we've got an infection. How long until sepsis sets in? Maybe four weeks? You won't survive for the full 26 weeks now." He carefully wrapped me in aconitum and silver-soaked bandages, salvaging what little tissue remained.

He leaned in close, his voice dripping with a sickening sweetness, as he said to me, "Baby, can't you see? This is our delicate balance, a mixture of honey and vinegar. I was a good husband, working side by side with you for 14 long weeks, providing you with sweetness while enduring my own share of bitterness. I may not be a secret agent, but now it's my turn to taste the honey and let you experience the vinegar. It's all about balance, you know."

A shiver ran down my spine as he continued, "Those explosive gigs we had were thrilling, I won't deny that. But this, this is something I crave, something I need. And the more pain and agony you experience without our bond, the more honey it pours into my soul. Oh, how I relish in your distress, your pain, your vulnerability. This bond is perfect for that."

Silence filled the air as his words hung heavy. Something inside me shattered, irreparably. The once cherished memories of our time together, filled with warmth and passion, now seemed tainted and devoid of their former power. The realization that every moment of happiness would come at a price, that it would never be genuine, extinguished any remaining love I had for him. 

Days passed, each one bringing me closer to the edge. Damon dutifully changed the wrappings, his anxious mutterings growing louder as he paced back and forth. The scent of passionfruit mingled with the damp odor of a wet dog, disorienting my already delirious mind. It appeared Damon derived pleasure from causing me as much harm as possible, as if he were driven by an uncontrollable urge.

And then he returned. "The fever has subsided, Baby. Now we're facing sepsis again, but I won't end your life. I'll bring you back from the brink. Whether Charles and Adam can keep you alive is their problem now. I'll leave you in a secluded place, perhaps a sprawling Pennsylvania mansion. Somewhere like the third bedroom on the 7th floor. Do you think they'll find you in time?"

Damon carefully unwrapped the blood-soaked wrappings, the metallic scent of iron filling the air. He meticulously flushed away the remnants of blood and tissue from my skin, causing an icy shiver to run down my spine. I knew this would sap my strength, but I was determined to scream or make sure they found me in time.

Next, Damon took a jar of sedative jelly, the cool gel gliding over my legs as he spread it with a gentle touch. Instantly, the jelly took effect, causing my limbs to grow heavy and weak. He swiftly bandaged my legs, the coolness of the jelly seeping through the fabric, numbing my skin. With his arms and legs wrapped around me, he secured me up to my neck, imprisoning me in his embrace.

"See, Baby, it's easier now. You can just let go," Damon murmured, his voice laced with disturbing tenderness. "As I said, you will be alive when I take you, but..." He left the sentence unfinished, the unspoken threat hanging in the air. 

Carrying me to the car, Damon drove us through the city, the distant sounds of traffic and sirens blending into a cacophony of urban life. We arrived at a house in Chicago, and he led me to the attic, its musty smell mingling with the scent of the sedative jelly. Pouring more jelly onto the bandages, he ensured its full effect, causing my eyelids to droop heavily.

"Go to sleep, good girl," Damon whispered, his touch on my hair sending a shiver down my spine.

I struggled to keep my eyes open, the weight of exhaustion pulling me towards slumber. He sat on the floor, holding me tenderly, his touch both creepy and chilling. Eventually, he rose and switched off the lights, leaving me in darkness.

Before leaving, Damon left a cryptic message for Charles. "Mimi is where her and Adam's journey together began."

The words hung in the air, leaving a sense of foreboding. I felt a surge of disillusionment towards Damon, realizing that the man I had once loved was now a stranger. The Damon I fell in love with had long vanished, replaced by a twisted version consumed by his desires. I let go of any remnants of love I had for him, understanding that our connection was no longer genuine. Love died, our bond turning black, almost lifeless. 

This realization marked a significant turning point in my life, shattering something inside me. Despite Damon still being by my side, I could sense his divided attention. His true love lies elsewhere. What we had become was beyond human comprehension, forged through unimaginable trials and suffering. After everything we had endured, I remained steadfast, my love for Damon unchanged, but forever altered.

Charles was swearing, Mimi was in Chicago and he was on the other side of America. He informed Adam what had rushed into the Chicago house. Adam stomped straight to his office and opened the computer. He took a quick look at the security tapes and dashed to the attic.

A figure wrapped in white wrappings lay still. Adam turned on the lights and the wrap moved. Mimi was alive. Fine, 15 straps, let's start there. Adam gently lifted Mimi into his arms and carried her downstairs as fast as he could.

"Phone, call Samuel," Adam gave a voice command.

Soon, Samuel's voice answered, "What?"

"Mimi has had another shed session. Mimi is alive with 15 straps. We are in Chicago." Adam quickly listed off.

Samuel asked a few more questions, went to grab Mimo's hide and Mimosa and a briefcase full of Mimi's dental materials, and left to drive. Half an hour never felt so long, Samuel thought as he pulled into the driveway. He rushed out of the car and downstairs.

I was exhausted, yearning to drift off into a deep slumber, but Adam refused to let me rest. From the moment Adam carried me to the medbay, his silence spoke volumes. He moved swiftly, his actions precise and gentle. I could feel the cool touch of the cannulas as he inserted them, and the steady drip of multiple bags.

With each procedure, Adam would inform me of what he was doing. Sometimes, he would replace the drip bag, while other times, his hands would tenderly touch me, assuring me that we would address those matters later, as they were not a priority. As he finished unwrapping the bandages, I relaxed in the soothing warmth of the water, while he carefully rinsed my skin.

"Now, whatever has been absorbed is beyond our control," he explained. "But let's prevent any further absorption."

I questioned, "Shouldn't I be asleep?"

Adam reassured me, "You'll get there. Just keep talking to me."

Adam maintained a stoic expression as he gently cleansed Mimi's injured crotch. The sight was gruesome, a bloody mess that transformed into a gaping cavity after thorough rinsing. The stench of blood lingered in the air, assaulting Adam's nostrils. Salvatore had always despised that particular aspect, Adam mused silently. Meanwhile, his instincts as a wolf alerted him to Samuel's hidden unease, despite his outward composure.

"What's the situation?" Samuel inquired, approaching Adam, who had just finished tending to Mimi's wounds.

"Fifteen straps, exhausted," Adam replied, his voice betraying a hint of weariness. "She was swathed in bandages soaked in tranquilizers. I've cleaned off as much as possible."

"Change the water," Samuel instructed, handing Adam an adrenaline shot. "Prepare fresh, warm water, then join me inside. We need to discuss further."

Following Samuel's orders, Adam swiftly complied, his hands trembling slightly from the weight of the situation.

When Adam put the adrenaline in my IV, I thought, so unfair. Then, the men went into the other room. I lay in a warm bath, exhausted and aching. Every limb of mine was hurting where there was still tissue left alive and left over. My ribs were hurting, and I had an overwhelming urge to breathe, but my lungs were punctured, and my ribs were crushed.

The fatigue was overwhelming, and the adrenaline was counteracting the sedation, but I felt every metal burn, ache, and wondering in my mind, "When will I get some sleep? Probably when I no longer hurt, when I have to suffer this pain."

Samuel listened quietly as Adam told him everything. He mentally listed the damage and took the briefcase. There was a new substance from Mimosa. The substance was pink and glowing. Mimosa said that the substance would be perfected as the future progressed, but this substance should give Straps. Now Mimo wasn't at all sure of its effectiveness on Mimi, but it was worth a try. The Mimosa hide was also fully loaded. They went to Mimi.

Samuel asked, "Does it hurt where?"

I said, "I don't know where not to hurt. You'd think my nerves would have taken enough hits, but no, the answer is everywhere."

Samuel nodded. First, he hung a couple of decilitre bags of something pink and connected it to my cannula full.

He put the other stuff on a smaller scale so that this stuff would drain quickly. Within 15 minutes, the stuff had drained and taken away the worst of my exhaustion.

Samuel said to Adam, " It gives us 50 straps."

" Wow, the stuff that gives you straps!" I thought.

Fifty straps are much better than 15. Then Samuel put the other agents back in while Adam was already stocking the incubator. My skin was broken; well what wasn't? It hurt everywhere. But at least I had 50 straps.

They took me out of the bath and put another drug in the drip. When they wrapped me up, it relieved the pain, and I was so tired I couldn't fight and went to sleep.

Samuel got some gel wraps from the cupboard in his packets and opened them. They would wrap Mimi in these, put her in the incubator for a week or two to sleep, and then check on her. They gently removed Mimi from the bath and lifted her onto the gel pad.

Then they wrapped her up everywhere. Samuel equipped a strong anesthetic bag even as they lifted Mimi out of the bath and put it on the drip, and by the time they had finished wrapping, Mimi was already fast asleep but holding her straps. They lifted Mimi into the incubator and closed the lid. Now it was just a matter of waiting.


บท 555: 34. Sail Away.

Damon came in a week later to help, but he didn't explain. He just sniffed Mimi's blood and sat, collectors in his teeth, day after day. Some substances he bit directly into bone and muscle. Charles and Adam accepted all the help because, in this mode, Damon was actually useful. He was fully dedicated to helping Mimi, even though the damage had been bad, and the metals were not good news.

Somehow, Damon was now super efficient and made a lot of progress just in a few days. It had not been so a long session and somehow Charles thought that whatever had come over Damon, had been like a fit of rage, he had done his worst as fast as possible but it had been hit and miss, not the same as in that hospital. 

Charles had always thought that these sessions were a bit like the reverse of beating yourself on the toe with a hammer just because it felt so good to stop. This wasn't the first time Charles saw how completely dedicated Damon was to saving Mimi once again, but these days, he didn't even stay in the same house every time Mimi woke up. Something inside Damon felt such a need to save her, to heal and help her. It was almost like obsession and he ate little, not showered, rarely as his focus was on Mimi.

He tasted her blood and looked at her tenderly, but somehow very sad. He sighed softly, holding her hand, and did not say a word. Charles could feel this deep sorrow oozing out of Damon, and he did not pry. It would be up to him to speak about it if he wanted. 

But this was Damon, the rescuer again. Damon hadn't done this in a long time. He had just killed Mimi and enjoyed himself. And then there had been a meltdown. He had not gotten to do this for a long time as it had been Charles, Adam, and Colin who had saved and healed Mimi many times, but now, he came back to heal what he broke. 

Just as he would then have to explain to Mimi why he did the session. Damon had gone to eat and rest after three weeks, when he had healed her. Charles had no idea if would Damon stick around much anywhere and what the future would bring to them all. He could sense something in the air, anticipation, and spirits were whispering something too, that something had come out and was not able to get hiding anymore but Charles knew spirits could whisper about a lot of things and it was not up to him to know everything.

Charles sighed. Mimi was in much better shape, almost fully recovered physically, but still thin and cold, so she could sleep in the incubator. Charles sat next to the incubator, made sure that it was warm enough to 42 degrees Celsius, and glanced at the monitors showing Mimi's vitals to ensure she stayed deep asleep and was warm enough. He adjusted the little oxygen flow, making sure that warm oxygen was plentiful in the incubator, keeping Mimi's breathing light and slow. No need, for her to work on getting oxygen. 

Damon had slept a few days, showered, and eaten, and he wanted to see where Mimi was. She should be soon ready to come out of the incubator, but he knew Charles was very protective of her, even though there was no need for now. He padded to the downstairs medbay. Seeing Charles sitting next to the incubator, watching the monitor.

Damon saw this. He went and made one patient bed ready and said to Charles, "She is ready to come out. You can turn off the monitor and oxygen."

He did not explain more when he walked to the incubator, opened it, took Mimi out, in his arms, and moved her back to the bed.

He said, "Mimi's body needs to be challenged. The cooler air will put the thermoregulation right. There is no physical obstacle now. The incubator is good when used at the right time, but I don't want to laze Mimi's body. It needs to be challenged a bit. She can breathe normal air and no need to pamper her in the wrong way. It only slows down her recovery. For now, we keep her covered and give her warm fluids and heated visceral suspension. She'll soon recover from that. We keep her asleep until she is over 40 kilos and then reassess the situation. She can eat then herself in better shape too."

Charles was silent, but then again, Damon's voice carried authority and experience and he knew her body and its functions better than anyone else, so Charles trusted his friend. 

And Damon was right. It was a few days before her system worked properly and digested the food much more efficiently, getting her weight up too.

Within a couple of days, Mimi kept her temperature and sugar up without a problem. Soon, she could wake up. Damon was pleased. Now, he would be free. He would always owe Mimi, no matter what he did. And he didn't want to do another session.

He felt like something inside him was furious, like he Shouldn't save Mimi. He acted so that he could never again kill or destroy Mimi in any way. He would rather kill himself. He felt now a volcano or Damien being much more separate from him; it was almost like an alien inside his mind, attacking him, trying to suppress him, sending images, feelings, and memories in his mind, like it would try to break to destroy him.

He knew it was now a terrible idea for him to be near Mimi and besides; he felt their bond that had died, pretty much and there was no love in Mimi's mind for him. He remembered what he had said in the shed and he had no idea why he had said it, or was it a volcano, but he could remember it. 

I woke up in the downstairs medbay and I thought that my life was a freaking mess. I had finished a lovely but demanding time of being a trauma surgeon. Before that, we had had a wonderful time with Damon in those gigs. The fleas were next in line for my attention. Now I had been ready to do a bit of gigging again to draw up plans and blow up naughty installations. But no, he had captured me and was cruel and destructive. It had been almost the shed session of the year. Oh my. It was a bit of a recovery, but here we are.

I hadn't spoken to Damon at all. I just knew he had been healing me, yes. Charles told me. It took a few days for me to get myself in good enough shape to be able to walk and eat; I was in pretty good shape, meaning I had my muscles, and my body functioned pretty well. There was no need for Magnum rehab now and I was fit to do this just myself.

When it came to me and Damon, I was not sure did we still existed. Because what he had said in the shed, had been creepy enough but true enough to kill my love for him. There was nothing to love, everything he did with me, was to get some kind of justification for him to get to do shed session, or at least it felt like it.

I was not looking for that kind of relationship with anyone where my happiness would be something that I had to pay for. And there was no actual love in that relationship then.

I went to the Pennsylvania mansion again to get things organized, and a couple of excellent establishments were waiting for my attention. None of them were Sark institutions, but the man I was interested in had been linked to the group that had originally made me.

Yes, I remembered the doctor who more or less claimed to be responsible for what I did, but the truth that had emerged over the years was that there had been more than one researcher. I had killed some of them long ago, but this Indian man. This had been one of our primary targets for some time. I had no idea what had happened to Dr. Morrisey and Dr. Kendrick. They had disappeared fully a long time ago, and I suspect that the government had something to do with that. After all, they did conned the government. 

This guy was a really nasty piece. If I had to think about who he looked like again, I'd say a cross between a Sendhil Ramamurthy and a Hari Dhilloin would be close. You wouldn't believe at some gala that this is a terrible guy. That's where I'm going to murder it, too. There was one gala coming up where these scientists used to come. I had very thin sticks of wood dipped in an extremely strong poison that couldn't be traced. Plus, they were biodegradable and saturated with vampire blood.

It would be easy. Walk by and poke; the stick was so thin you could hardly notice it, and it wouldn't enter the victim by more than an inch or two. It would break off naturally. The victim dies within half an hour of a heart attack, as seen by the autopsy of the body—or some other disease.

I examined my victims quite carefully and searched their medical records as widely as I could find. I had several poisons at my disposal and always chose the most natural way for the victim to die. This wouldn't be the first victim I'd nailed. No, no. I'd been doing these jobs for quite a while. But this was a quick and effective way. And discreet. I was one of the best assassins in the world. Or maybe the best, as no one knew who had been my victims, so there were technically no victims. Only I knew the truth, and this method would be untraceable. 

I had reserved a green dress for myself, which was unusual. I had red hair, and green rarely suited me, but this was a very light green Armani satin dress, so I thought I'd go with it. One other advantage of these poisons was that I was immune to each one myself. These wouldn't affect me in any way. I was so ready.

I didn't tell anybody where I was going because, as a leader, I didn't have to. Adam and Charles had just had to deal with another Mimosa's heat, and she'd gotten Mirella into it again. There was a fuckfest going on. I had no idea if Damon was part of it or not and frankly; I did not care. I was on a mission. My killer instincts were once again awakened. It was not unusual for me to get a little more lethal after the shed session; it was a kind of reaction to that and this was just what I would need.

The party was in Delaware, and I would go to the house after the party if I didn't feel like going out. I organized over 50 blow-ups around the world in two weeks. It's good that a small network of five countries grew into a whole global one. I never would have believed it. It felt like so long time ago and I had been a fully different person, not so hardened as I am today and not so cynical. But life teaches you lessons even if you are not asking for them. 

At least not at the time. I remembered our vampire wedding for fun. The three elders were long dead when Damon killed them, and I didn't know if anyone respected the unbroken tradition anymore. Does anyone care if I'm in a vampire alliance with Damon or not? We have the scars on our palms to prove it, but what that means in real life, I just don't know. I had no idea was it anymore anything special to Damon either as he had seen me as too young a vampire to be worthy of him and I was not familiar with vampire customs and the world so much so. 

I got ready and got in my car. I drove to the venue, knowing this would be a quick and easy gig. I have one bad blind spot and always have. When I plan something, I can become overconfident because I'm always invincible. It is just that insignificant fact that slips from my mind that I am actually pretty damn wanted by so many evil medical facilities and I overlook that fact, not thinking things through and being cautious enough. It had not even gotten in my mind that they would look for me, or they would have some sort of tracking of my movements.

And especially if I'm going to kill someone, then this fault of mine really comes to the fore. In the same way that I've almost always been underestimated, I often underestimate my opponents. Or I overestimate my own abilities. It's because I'm pretty much immortal. Meaning I have this notion that I can take any hit, and any time and I am just strong enough, fast enough not to get caught and tortured. 

I can't be killed. Not by any means. Plus, I'm a vampire hybrid with an ungodly amount of rage. With my rage, I can handle any situation. That's why I didn't even bother outfitting myself under my skin for this gig, because there's really no need.

I go in, find the victim, walk by, and that's it. I'll be at the party for maybe another half hour after that, and then I'll go back to the house and see for myself maybe some blast or kill or sniper games. There is no risk of me in there at all, right? What could go wrong with my brilliant plan? No need to back up, no need to anyone check things through, and no need for me to tell anyone. 


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นอกจากนี้คุณสามารถปิด / เปิดได้ตลอดเวลาในการตั้งค่า

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