I guess I finally found out what first love was. A full-fledged, serious love, not just a crush. Sure, I'd already had a relationship with Chris, which wasn’t void of affection, but it couldn't even be compared to the rush of feelings I was going through with Luma. And by the way, I don't think I'm gay. I really liked Chris. And not only as a friend. I liked kissing him, I liked the way he touched me. But with Luma…
I knew that she was special the moment I saw her but I had no idea just how incredible she really was. When books describe women, they almost always emphasize their kindness, tenderness, and endearment. And that's all good, and Luma definitely had those qualities but I believe this view of women is pretty sexist. Every girl is, first of all, a person and only then a woman, so it would make more sense to single out her humane qualities before diving into female ones.
On the other hand, many girls are in fact women first. All that they are interested in is clothes, makeup, and new trends on TikTok. I have never been friends with such girls, although they were the majority in our school. But Luma was absolutely different. She could easily make an Instagram-worthy breakfast in the morning, make a speech at the UN in the afternoon and have my back in a fight in the evening.
She was a perfect combination of all the virtues you can possibly have in a person, be it a man or a woman. Male ambition peacefully coexisted in her with female gentleness, and respect for order somehow lived next to an adventurous streak. She was both cheerful and thoughtful, funny and very serious. Also, Luma turned out to be almost the most knowledgeable person I'd ever met. She knew something on every subject, from Ancient Egypt to space exploration.
She was incredible!!! Her mind, her character – everything about her was different. The way she talked, the way she behaved, the way she thought – everything was unique. Luma seemed to have been created by a brilliant writer. Girls like that simply couldn't exist in the real world. But Luma did exist, and she was with me… And by the way, Luma was not gay either. Unlike me, she had more than one boyfriend, had sex with them and even liked it. What can I say here – the heart wants what it wants.
In our times, we probably had to figure out how to call ourselves now - bisexual, pansexual, or something else. But Luma said, "To hell with all that! Terms are needed for those who cannot think with their own brains! Feelings should not fall under the dictionary definitions." And I couldn't agree with her more. The only thing that now hindered our relationship is the Omicron investigation, in which the entire Order headquarters got buried. Luma and I participated in the research just as actively as the others.
Most times I would be sitting on the floor, with my back against the bed and the laptop on my lap, while Luma would be lying on her stomach in bed and swinging her legs in a cute manner. Sometimes she would sit on the edge of the bed above me and put her legs on my shoulders so that my head would end up between her thighs. We would sit like this for hours, each doing our own thing. Feeling the warmness of her skin against my neck, at those moments I loved Luma even more.
Apart from the circumstances of our first meeting and the fact that we were both vampires living with the Order of the Night Guardians, our relationship was as normal as any other. We were talking a lot, cuddling, going on impromptu dates, and watching romantic movies together. It was one of our days off when we were watching The Story of Us with Bruce Willis and Michelle Pfeiffer, snuggled up on the sofa in the Order's living room, when our privacy was interrupted by Rettle. The coach opened the door and crossed the room, completely nonchalant, despite a man's body twice his size lying on his shoulders. He had his hands and feet tied, and there was a black sack on his head.
We watched Rettle with puzzled expressions. As soon as the coach and his burden disappeared into the basement, uncle Mike, who was sitting in the control room with Lee and Geek, waved his hand inviting us to join them.
"What… What just happened?" I asked.
"Mr. Kurt Bayer in his own person, the head of the security at Blood Inc.," replied my uncle.
I looked at Luma. When she heard the name of her former torturer, her face changed. But not the way I'd expected. There was no fear or confusion in it, only resolution.
"Have a seat. You’ll watch a unique performance."
With several mouse clicks, my uncle had the basement CCTV feed come up on one of the screens.
"Rettle is a true artist when it comes to questioning. Watch his every move. He knows how to create a truly unique psychological atmosphere."
On the screen, the coach put the prisoner in a chair and set up a tripod with another camera in front of him. Mike clicked again, and a second feed came up on another monitor. Taking his time, the coach bound his prisoner to the chair. Then Rettle pulled out a small syringe and stuck it into Bayer's neck.
"Adrenalin, to wake him up," explained my uncle. "And now watch Rettle work. First, the interrogated person needs to stew for a while. Not having a clue as to what's going on sometimes is scarier than a gun pointed at your head."
Rettle left the room, coming back five minutes later in a new outfit – a brownish long-sleeve Dexter-style T-shirt, a long black rubber apron, and matching gloves. Uncle Mike turned to me.
"Doesn't he look disturbing?"
I nodded. Rettle pulled two big metal tables out of the workshop. He then approached the prisoner, removed the sack from his head, and ripped off the piece of duct tape from his mouth. Bayer started to yell, mixing screams and swearing with occasional questions suitable for the situation, like "Who are you?", "What's going on?" and so on. In response, Rettle silently slapped him in the face.
Such disrespectful treatment of his precious face made Bayer silent for a second, but then he went back to screaming again. Rettle gave him another slap, a harder one. Bayer shut up for about ten seconds, but then couldn't help himself and started spewing curses again. The situation repeated three more times until finally, Rettle slapped the dude so hard, that his head had almost come full circle. It worked. The chief of Blood Inc. security didn't attempt to open his mouth anymore.
Mike turned to me again.
"It's like Rettle was born for this. I think his stone-cold face had more effect on Bayer than the slapping."
The coach approached the metal tables and pushed them closer to the prisoner to give him a good view of the huge variety of torture devices. Apart from surgical scalpels, there was a small circular saw, a drill, several hammers, some clamps, and a dozen of other objects I'd never seen before which made them look even more horrifying. The coach began to study his arsenal, checking the sharpness of the blades and choosing the best tool for his future victim.
"This is a two-character play, so I need you all to stay quiet."
"Are you going for the good cop/bad cop routine?" I asked my uncle.
"More like – bad cop/absolutely insane cop."
Mike put his finger to his lips and pressed a couple of keys on the keyboard, turning on the microphone.
"Hello, Mr. Bayer."
Uncle Mike's voice, modified with special software, reminded me of Bane from The Dark Knight Rises.
"I won't lie to you. We are going to kill you. It will happen regardless of your further behavior. But it's up to you to decide just how it will happen – quickly and nicely or slowly and painfully. And trust me when I say that my respected colleague has enough stamina, tools, creativity, and desire to make your pain last forever. Since death is inevitable, you might not want to ruin the last moments of your life."
"What the..?" Bayer started to yell but Rettle's powerful kick threw him with the chair down to the floor, shutting Bayer up.
"It seems that you didn't quite understand our rules. I’m the one asking questions here, and you can only answer them."
The coach put the chair with the prisoner back up and returned to his torture instruments.
"Did I make myself clear, Mr. Bayer?"
The prisoner kept silent, afraid of being hit again.
"You can nod."
Bayer nodded.
"We know everything about you and your bosses from Omicron. So don't try to lie to us. What we are interested in is your operation that involved kidnapping people and turning them into vampires. Namely, we need to know why you are doing that and who exactly in Blood Inc. and Omicron knows what's going on."
Bayer opened his mouth to talk but Mike interrupted him.
"Oh no, please, don't answer just yet. You see, Mr. Bayer, my friend really enjoys torturing people. And I cannot deny him the pleasure of having at least a two-minute ‘conversation’ with you before we continue."
Rettle walked up to the prisoner, bent over, and started to cut up his pants, filling Bayer with a mix of bewilderment and fear. Uncle Mike turned off both screens but before the feed was cut off we heard Bayer's blood-curdling scream.
"I hope you understand that neither Rettle, nor I take any pleasure in these tortures. They sicken us but they are part of the play. Bayer is a hard nut to crack, and physical force on its own isn’t enough to make him talk. We need him to believe in all this, to believe that Rettle is a complete psycho and I'm just a detached voice who doesn't give a damn about his life. No matter how strong a person is, he's still afraid of physical pain and suffering, subconsciously always looking for a way to avoid them. We just need to show him that way. And now it's time for the second scene of our play."
Mike turned on the monitors again and talked into the microphone.
"Enough. It's time we talk."
Bayer was still seated in the chair. His right leg was now speckled with black dots of congealed blood.
"I won't say anything."
The prisoner didn't even finish the sentence when Rettle's knee crashed into his jaw.
"Mr. Bayer, you are being unreasonable. I've told you already – I'm asking questions, you're answering them. ‘I won't say anything’ is not an answer."
The head of Blood Inc. security spat out the thick and viscous blood that oozed out of his busted lip.
"Do whatever you want. You won't break me."
A punch to the ear once again sent the prisoner to the floor. Rettle picked Bayer back up.
Uncle Mike laughed theatrically, and his modified voice came out extremely menacing.
"I'm afraid, you are seriously overestimating your abilities. The sole purpose of these tortures is to entertain my friend. I wasn't trying to break you. That can be achieved by other means."
Rettle pulled another syringe from under his apron and plunged it into Bayer's heart.
"Chemistry, Mr. Bayer, is an extraordinary thing. In several minutes, this amazing mixture will spread all over your body and reach your brain. When that happens, you will be happy to tell me not just what you know about Omicron, but also the most mortifying facts from your past. See you in a couple of minutes, Mr. Bayer. I cannot take away the pleasure of torturing you a little more from my dear friend."
Again, Mike turned off the monitors.
"Do we really have a truth serum?" I asked.
"Of course, not. Even if these things exist, they never leave the underground facilities of the CIA or KGB. Anyway, I doubt they are any good for questioning vampires."
"What was in the syringe then?"
"A special cocktail courtesy of Fleming. He spent many years searching for chemical agents that work on vampires. It's a mix of everything – muscle relaxants, sedatives, tranquilizers, euphoria inducers, hallucinogens, stimulants. It will indeed make Bayer a bit more chatty but the effect of this cocktail is comparable to that of two glasses of vodka on a human. Our goal is to induce unusual physiological and neurological feelings. To make him believe he was really injected with a truth serum and it worked. Like I said, Bayer's subconsciousness is now actively searching for a way to avoid pain. He's a trained fighter and he was taught to resist torture. That mindset has been holding him back but now, after feeling the effect of our injection, his subconsciousness will start weakening his will. It'll whisper in his ear, "This is all chemistry, you cannot resist it. It's not your fault, it's just your body. No one can resist the truth serum." Give him a good reason, and he'll convince himself that our drug worked."
Uncle Mike brought the image back up and talked into the microphone.
"Enough. The drug should've started working already."
Rettle stepped away from Bayer. The prisoner had his nose broken, and the coach hurried to pull out something like a very long needle out of his right shoulder.
"Are you ready to answer our questions?"
"Yes," replied Bayer in a hoarse voice.
"Wonderful. I knew you'd turn out a great person to talk to. So, the converts. What's the point?"
"I don't know."
Rettle took a swing at the prisoner but my uncle stopped him.
"No, no, my dear friend. Mr. Bayer is not trying to be smart. He's telling the truth and nothing but the truth."
The coach retreated toward the tables with the torturing tools.
"I'll rephrase my question: in your opinion, Mr. Bayer, what's the point of this operation with the converts?"
"The primes want to build their own army."
As he uttered the word ‘primes’ we looked at each other. This was the first actual proof of their existence.
"How big is the operation?"
"I'm not sure. My job was to prepare two hundred recruits. But there are others. At least five similar groups."
"Who's involved?"
"Everyone. The entire top management of Blood Inc. and half of Omicron employees."
"Are they all vampires?"
"Yes. Everyone who's anyone is a vampire."
"Who's at the top? Who's running the show?"
"The Irwings. Heinrich and his crazy wife Odetta."
"How many vampires are there in your organization?"
"Around 100-150 thousand. Everything's classified. The information is sliced and diced. Only Irwings know everything."
"How do you manage to feed without raising any red flags?"
"Donor blood."
"So all of you feed on donor blood and don't kill humans?"
"No, only foot soldiers are restricted to donor blood, although even they sometimes get treated to fresh stuff. Omicron has an entire department dedicated to supplying humans. The higher you stand in the company, the more fresh blood you get and the higher its quality. The word is Odetta is on the infants-only diet. That's why that god damned bitch looks so good."
"How does it work, this department?"
"They are pros. They kidnap people without leaving any traces. For foot soldiers they bring in truckfuls of Mexicans – that lot won't be missed. For primes, they select better merchandise – mostly young female tourists. To provide children for Odetta, we have hospitals all over the country. Not a day goes by without some underage mommy giving up her newborn baby."
I gestured to my uncle to turn off the mic.
"How the hell is this possible??? A hundred thousand vampires feed on humans, and nobody is the wiser?"
"I'm afraid there's nothing surprising here. Around ninety thousand people are reported missing in the US every year. And that's only what's on the record."
I nodded and signaled my uncle to continue the interrogation.
"You know, guys, if you don't mind, I'd prefer to continue on my own. I'm afraid, I need answers to a whole bunch of questions, and most of them won't be pretty. Geek, do you have a headset around?"
Geek handed Mike the earphones. Everyone stood up to leave my uncle alone. As we started walking away, I put my hand around Luma's waist.
"Are you doing okay?"
"Quit asking stupid questions. Who do you take me for – a drama queen?"
She smiled and kissed me on the cheek.
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