Chương 228: 28. Twilight Time.
I had no idea how fucking long I had been here, trapped in this cramped cage. I let out a soft grunt as I tried to find a more comfortable position. Horatio, realizing my invincibility, had stopped putting me in the freaking arena as often since no one would bet against me anymore. My initial success, the bloodshed I caused, and my unbeatable reputation had made me a legend. Word had spread, and there was no longer a reason for anyone to bet against me.
They had tried to mess with me, injecting me with implants and pumping drugs into my veins. But my white-hot rage burned too bright, and the drugs had little effect on me. It was funny, though, how the original brothers had disappeared. Supposedly, they had left the ship, even though they had bought an eight-week cruise. They didn't even ask for a refund; they just vanished. Maybe it had something to do with that stick embedded in Nick's heart. Who knows?
I didn't have the capacity to think about what others were going through or what would happen to our pack after all of this. I had to focus on maintaining control. I needed to let my rage fuel me while keeping the drugs at bay. I didn't want to become a mindless, raging beast. I had to maintain control. As I twisted and turned in my mind, I wondered how I had missed the intricate web of revenge that Horatio and the others had woven for me and our pack.
It all began when Cole, Spike, and Angelus decided to blackmail Freya into casting a spell. Unfortunately for them, things went wrong and Freya and Rebecca were left as breeders for our pack, Freya losing her powers for good and Rebecca doing babies a few decades. Meanwhile, Cole, Spike, and Angelus got to know me better. By my vampire side, enslaving them.
Another part of the plan involved Horatio, who enlisted Nicodemus' help. Horatio had spent decades trapped in rat form but eventually returned to human form. This created enemies for Dresden and Wulfe as well. Additionally, there was a group of ex-soldiers who held grudges against Magnum, Adam, and Charles. Several female demons had heard about Demon and Lepard and were targeting them. And there had been a few nasties for Constantine as well.
Mariella faced her own challenges when two mischief demons were released from hell. She teamed up with Mimosa while the rest of the girls formed another team. This entire situation was a collective effort from multiple enemies, and not all of them were specifically targeting me. However, I couldn't help but blame myself for not recognizing any warning signs in our threat reports.
I sat on the cold concrete floor, staring at my hands. They had become skeletal, and my sharp nails were stained with red. I had been covered in blood and guts, as I repeatedly plunged my hand into my enemies, feeling their hot guts in my palm and pulling them out. It was more or less my signature move, or then I would chop off their heads too. I drank little blood from them as they could be poisoned, so no need to put myself in any worse condition.
The pleasant memories of our time together in the fun room now seemed like a distant lifetime, while I was trapped in this hellish existence. This was one hell of a price to pay for my good times, but this had been my life for a long time. Everything came with a price, at least what it came to me to have a good time. Being here was not easy, especially since the last time I was in this situation. I was a werewolf vampire, not a recovering shifter vampire dealing with a nasty syndrome.
And to think, it was all part of Cole's revenge. This syndrome, which had plagued Nick and even Elias, was the reason Wulfe had killed energy sorceresses. The energy sorceress had been a surefire way to contract it. It was all part of Horatio's plan to make Wulfe suffer, but he had been strong enough to resist, although the syndrome still affected him to some extent. Cole had wanted me to have the syndrome as well. He had hoped it would keep me for years in its grip like it kept his brothers. He had been wrong.
There were cuts and bruises on my arms, extending all the way to my shoulders. My shoulders had been dislocated multiple times, and the drugs and potions they had filled me with hindered my healing. I wasn't sure if my shoulder joint was still loose, but I didn't want to test it. I stopped breathing and tried to hold on as the electric implants inside me, which were installed by those damn nutcases, hit me. The pain froze me, but I endured it, reminding myself that it was just one sensation and it would pass.
When the pain finally subsided, I took a deep breath. It wasn't a pleasant experience, but you know what they say. What doesn't kill you makes you stronger? And I was much more fucking stronger because of all the pain I had endured in my life. I had to be. Pain, it was for tolerating, right?
Then, a big heavy door creaked open. It was the door that led to a space filled with several cages, each containing someone like me, a fighter. I had no idea who they were coming to get or what they were planning to do, but I wasn't afraid. I was fed up, and I knew it was useless to try and escape. I had already tried before, but there was too much black magic and too many guards. Plus, I wasn't in my best shape. I had become slightly wiser and realized that it was futile to bang my head against the wall in desperation to escape. The time would come, and then I would see what fate had in store for me and the others.
And what it came to others, well, time would tell in what shape they would be, but then again, there were certain realities to be taken into account. Despite everyone being pretty outstanding fighters, there were nasties out there that could do a hell of a lot of damage and as this was planned, I was pretty sure that enemies had been carefully chosen.
Mariella had received some training during her time in fleas, and Mimosa and Shadow had as well. However, Elena and Katherine weren't as skilled, so they might need some work. And then there was the emotional impact. I knew the Salvatores would probably flock around Mariella, along with Charles, but there were others too. I just hoped that they were in decent shape.
A group of men approached my cage, and one of them spoke tersely, "You're up next, wild beast. Get up and don't even think about causing a mess."
I raised my head, looking at his ugly plain face with a sneer on my face. I replied, "I'm not so sure. I just might... it feels so fun to plunge my hand into someone's innards and pull something out."
He wasn't fazed by my words but said, "Zip it and stand up, beastie. You'll get your chance to kill soon enough."
Oh, how I wanted it right now. I stood up as he opened the cage door.
When he took a step closer, I struck. My clawed hand, curled into a loose fist, sank effortlessly through his abdomen. My claws tore through his shirt, reducing it to shreds. He was too astonished to react or say a word as I swiftly withdrew my hand, holding warm entrails in my fingers. Blood gushed from his belly as he grunted and fell to his knees, unable to even lift his hands to staunch the wound. He was soon lifeless. My enjoyment was so freaking short with these weaklings.
Humans, I rolled my eyes in disdain. They couldn't endure much without succumbing to death. So weak. The other men backed away slightly, and one of them reached into his pocket with a trembling hand, retrieving a remote. He pressed a button, and searing pain coursed through me as the damn implants inside me were activated.
I was promptly restrained against the wall, cannulated, and injected with god knows what shit into my veins. The pain eventually subsided. They had little regard for the usual effects of the drugs on normal creatures or humans, who would experience euphoria. But not me. They had used veterinary drugs on me, and I didn't suffer withdrawal like their other victims. It was something that greatly infuriated Horatio. He had hoped to reduce me into a pleading mess, in the throes of withdrawal, like there were others in here. I am not that easy.
Horatio came from time to time to talk to me and taunt me. He even entertained the idea of keeping Wulfe as a prisoner and handing him over to Krycheck. Horatio believed that after a few months in Krycheck's hands, Wulfe would no longer be my friend but my enemy. I promptly shut down that subject by mentioning what Wulfe had done to Krycheck. I didn't know the details, but the mere mention of Wulfe relentlessly pursuing Krycheck for months had made Horatio fall silent.
The drugs flooded my mind, causing everything to become hazy and confusing. But at the same time, I felt a distinct warmth spreading through my right flank. My liver activated, breaking down the drugs. I just had to wait for my body to eliminate enough of the drugs. I kept my rage in check, not yet harnessing it to break free from the drugs.
My little plan was to let them see the effects of the drugs on me, so that when the time was right, I could unleash my rage. It was a risky approach, but the rush of adrenaline felt good. I was flirting with danger here, not being as rational as I could be. But I was playing with these individuals. Did I really need to provoke them into drugging me senseless? Maybe it was the wise thing to do. I had no idea as the drug's effects intensified, making it difficult to keep my eyes open. Of course, this had the added benefit of numbing the pain effectively.
I had no idea what damn stuff they were injecting into me. I did see quite a few bags of different fucking metals, but hey, I received them almost daily, so I always had a strong metal feeling. Headaches, muscle pains, and restlessness were a constant presence. I used to get myself angry and frustrated because of it.
I noticed the leers from those ugly bastards. It would soon be time for me to step into the arena. Blood was drying up under my fingernails, so I could use some more. Then they brought out the damn red bag. It contained some sort of stimulant, or maybe several of them. It cleared the haze caused by sedatives from my mind, along with their pain-relieving properties. Soon, the pain would hit me, my heart would race, and my rage would awaken.
But I usually managed to control myself pretty well. Others were not so fortunate; they couldn't even speak. I could, and I spoke. I usually tried to put on a little show, killing them all. But if there weren't many newcomers in the audience, no one paid attention. They were more or less bored. Their biggest amusement was seeing me reduced to a pitiful state.
They hoped to witness me in full-on berserker mode for no reason. But when you've lived with this damn supernatural rage for two centuries or so, you become quite skilled at controlling it. Of course, they hoped my recovery from the VENOMS wouldn't take so long. They wished for me to be more messed up. And now, there was no one strong enough for me to consume, so that damn thing would hit me again.
Let's just say that Horatio and several vampires were less happy now that the VENOMS were widely known, thanks to Colin and the pack. It had been their dirty little weapon, and now it was out in the open. It had lost some of its power, giving them one more reason to attack Colin.
But we would get through this. Who knows what would come next? I had to try to keep that thought in my mind, not giving in to my more sarcastic side. It was pretty sure that after recovery, Salvatores and Mariella would go to the Azores. And it might be that Wulfe, if something happened to Horatio, would be busy chasing him. And I would be alone. Somehow, that's not what I wanted, but it might still happen. But hey, it would only be a few months, maybe, if it happened.
I could feel my rage building up within me, my veins flooding as the stimulant cocktail took effect. The men released me, dragging me into a corridor and shutting the door behind me. Soon, another door would open, leading me to the arena.
Despite the sedatives impairing my coordination, I made my way towards the door, filled with anticipation. My nails transformed into claws, my fangs descended, and I could feel the pressure in my head as poisons and toxins formed. It was exhilarating to have my fangs filled with deadly substances, uncertain of the lethal effect they would have with just one bite.
As the door opened, I walked into the brightly lit cage, where the scent of death, pain, and agony mingled with my own victories. There was a distinct aroma of my brutality, a testament to my past triumphs in this place. My mind was in its own cruel state, and a savage smile adorned my face as I looked at the audience, noting that they were new faces. Walking somewhat unsteadily due to the sedatives, I glanced at the huge display listing the substances I had been given and the identities of my adversaries.
As the door opened again, three figures stepped in. Three against one, I thought. Fine by me. They appeared to be demons or something similar, one wielding a sword, another a serrated whip, and the third a crossbow. They moved with a lethal grace, unaffected by any drugs. Very well, let's put on a show then.
They tried to corner me, keeping their distance, but as the one with the whip attempted to strike, I leaped up, grabbing onto the bars of the cage's roof and swinging myself behind the one with the crossbow. Landing with a kick to his back, he toppled over, while simultaneously, I swept the legs out from under the one with the whip and landed a punch to his jaw. A sharp pain shot through my back as I groaned. The one with the crossbow had managed to hit me. Turning around, I delivered a powerful roundhouse kick to the stomach of the one with the sword, seized the weapon, and with one clean sweep, severed his head.
I was on the verge of turning when a sudden bolt of pain struck my side. The whip, lined with blades, tore through my right flank, causing my blood to spill out in a crimson arc. Despite the agony, I still held onto my sword and managed to use it to block his next attack. His whip became entangled with the sword, giving me an opportunity to pull him closer and deliver a powerful kick to his stomach. He groaned, doubled over, and in that moment of vulnerability, I threw my sword to the ground, seized him, and sank my fangs into his flesh, allowing my poison to course through him.
The pain in my side started to lessen, either due to the adrenaline or my numbed senses. He fell to the ground, foaming at the mouth, but I wasted no time and swiftly turned my attention to the last remaining adversary armed with a crossbow. I bit into him as well, and he too succumbed to the venom, collapsing to the ground in convulsions. I gently touched my side, feeling the wound gradually healing, and then proceeded to yank the stubborn bolt out of my back. The pain was merely a minor inconvenience.
I was now prepared to continue the slaughter, caring little for the spectacle it may create. The thrill of having power over my victims and the sheer pleasure of ending their lives consumed my thoughts. Occasionally, I derived satisfaction from the sound of a brutal neck snap or the sight of a decapitated head rolling across the floor after my merciless strike.
My killer instinct was fully unleashed, and even my inner darkness, previously imprisoned by Wulfe and Salvatores, stirred restlessly, seeking an escape. Oh, if only I were to release it, the fun would become even more intense. Wulfe had been such a spoilsport for confining it. But for now, my time was dedicated to killing, not unearthing my dark side. Perhaps, at some point, who knows?
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