Morning broke soft and golden over the Skyfather Compound. Liza, as usual, was the first one up, savoring the rare hush before the chaos kicked in. These early hours belonged to her—quiet moments untouched by duty or magic, when she could pretend everything was normal.
After a hot shower, steam curling around her like a second skin, she stepped out onto her balcony. Spring clung to the air, fragrant and fresh. She towel-dried her long, wavy dark hair as the first rays of sunlight peeked over the distant hills. Birds chirped cheerfully in the trees below, unaware of the monsters that lived above them.
For a fleeting moment, the weight of magic, war, and responsibility lifted. She allowed herself to breathe.
Then, of course, it ended.
In the kitchen, Damian was already seated at the breakfast table, half-shadowed, his grin smug over the rim of a coffee mug.
"I thought your morning started in the afternoon," she quips, eyeing the bustle of servants weaving around the room. It hadn't been this busy in weeks. Something was up. "And close that window. You're letting bugs in."
"Nothing wrong with a little fresh air," Damian replied, not moving an inch. "Good morning to you too though. Sleep well?"
"I slept fine, thanks. Although I prefer my mornings vampire free." She tried to hide her smile as she poured coffee. Tried, and failed.
The vampire leaned over, eyes glinting with amusement at her anime pajamas. "Cute PJs."
"Shut up," Liza said, swatting his arm.
They exchanged a look—and then laughter spilled out of both of them, warm and unguarded.
It didn't last.
"Aye," Damian said, snapping his fingers at a maid. A woman approached, pale and calm. Wordlessly, she extended her wrist.
His fangs slid down with a soft click.
Liza flinched as he bit in, not cruelly, but without ceremony. Blood trickled down her skin as Damian filled his cup.
"Ran out of Red Sea," he explained casually. "Until I make more, fresh blood is the only option."
Her stomach turned. "You could've warned me."
"Where's the fun in that?" he replied. Then, lifting his cup like a toast: "Anyway—I'm throwing a party for Zenith Month."
"I knew something was up. So that's why the whole house is buzzing."
"Exactly," he said, standing. "And—bonus—you're in charge."
Liza nearly choked on her coffee. "Excuse me?"
She shot halfway out of her chair, only for Damian to gently press her back down with two fingers on her shoulder.
"Already set in motion, Tinker Bell," he said, voice lilting like he was talking about weather. "You're welcome."
"Ugh!"
He sipped deeply, sighing in satisfaction.
A few moments later, another servant brought over her breakfast. Liza didn't thank them. She was still glaring.
"I made arrangements," Damian went on. "You won't be doing everything. I just told them they could ask you questions. You know—because of your royal decorating expertise."
"Fuck you."
"You did that last night." He winked, then raised his glass. "Now use that beautiful brain and get it all done by nine. Party starts at noon."
"You can't just—"
Damian vanished.
Liza stared at the empty space he'd occupied seconds before, fuming.
This was exactly why she enjoyed her mornings alone. Every day in this damned place started with a surprise assignment or magical nonsense.
A few hours later, Damian stood in the heart of the living room, gazing into the green flames licking at the inside of the marble fireplace. The bottle of Red Sea—his preferred bourbon, brewed from blood and rare spirits—glinted like rubies in his hand, half-drained. The firelight danced in his golden serpent eyes, illuminating the red rings that pulsed softly in his pupils.
The door creaked open.
Damian didn't turn until he heard familiar, measured footsteps.
"Took you long enough," he said, glancing back. "Thought you died."
"You're not funny," Jeryko muttered, already peeling off his jacket as he dropped into a nearby armchair. "What's this I hear about a party? I've gotta leave in a few hours, so don't fuck anything up."
Damian arched a brow. "The fuck you mean, 'leave'? You're not going anywhere."
"Business first." Jeryko yawned, reclining further. "Not like I was planning on showing up anyway."
Damian scoffed, turning on the massive wall-mounted television. "Whether you show or not, you know how I get down."
"Unfortunately," Jeryko replied.
"I've got a very important job tonight." Damian smirked, eyes gleaming in the reflection of the fire.
"Which is?" Jeryko asked, clearly bracing himself.
"Bossing people around, obviously." Damian marched toward the door. "Just gotta make sure everyone stays out back. No real security needed. I mean, who the hell would be dumb enough to try something?"
Jeryko sighed. "Right."
"In fact," Damian turned mid-step, eyes lit with mischief, "I fuckin' dare them."
Jeryko sat forward, lacing his fingers. "Let me get this straight. You threw this party, and instead of helping, you're barking orders from the sidelines? Let me guess—you dumped the actual work on someone else. Classic."
"Bingo!" Damian snapped, pointing like he'd just won a game show. "You see, Jeryko, a king doesn't always go to war—but when he does, he puts on a damn good show."
"You're a jester."
"Don't interrupt my monologue." Damian raised a finger. "Everyone's playing to their strengths. Nova's inviting the hoes, and Liza—well, I bullied into planning the whole thing. But we both know planning shit like this is in her DNA. Royal family and all."
Jeryko stood up. "Is that so?"
"That is so," Damian said, smug.
Jeryko headed toward the kitchen.
"Who's it gonna be this time?" Damian followed him.
"Sephara and her associate. A friend of hers wants more weapons. They're fighting a war and we're investing. We're meeting to discuss contracts."
"Interesting." Damian leaned against the fridge, eyeing him. "You should ask her to be your girlfriend. She hates me, but I see how she looks at you."
"You're imagining things," Jeryko said, unfazed, pouring the last of the coffee.
"I don't know," Damian mused, shaking his head. "Maybe it's 'cause she knows I hate cats. Or maybe it's that three-hour debate we had on the battlefield about ice cream. Her favorite's strawberry. What kinda shit is that? Everyone knows cookies and cream wins."
"You're insane."
"We argued mid-fight. Sure, she got annoyed, lost focus, almost died, but that's on her. It ain't my fault she can't multitask."
Before Jeryko could reply, a sudden crack echoed in the room as Nova teleported in, landing with a dramatic swirl of gold energy.
"Ayo!" she beamed, latching onto Damian's arm. "Let me tell you why I love you soooo—much!"
"No," Damian replied instantly, peeling her off.
"Aww," she pouted.
Jeryko barely blinked. "What do you want?"
"This idiot put me on watch duty," Nova grumbled, hands on her hips. "I don't even get to party."
"Figures," Jeryko said.
"You can't hold your liquor," Damian said, finishing his drink. "And I'd rather you not assault our guests."
"I don't assault them," Nova said with a mock scoff.
"Oh you do. You insult them as well," Jeryko said. "Loudly. In six different languages."
Damian laughs. "Even I was like what the fuck are you talkin' about."
Nova shrugged. "Fair."
"You can party, but no drinking," Damian warned. "Just invite the hoes and skedaddle."
Nova rolled her eyes. "You know I'm not gonna listen to yo—wait." She slid up beside Jeryko as his phone buzzed. "Who's that?"
"Business call," Jeryko muttered, locking the screen.
"It's Sephara," Damian said, grinning. "His sexy feline friend."
Nova's eyes lit up. "Shut up! She's coming?! I didn't think she got my invite. You gonna make a move?"
"No," Jeryko said flatly, face unreadable.
"Who's her plus one again?" Damian asked, pouring another drink. "She hot?"
"It's a dude. Unfortunately."
"Never mind," Damian said. "Not my type."
Jeryko chuckled. "I'll keep my phone close."
"Don't take too long or you'll miss the show," Nova added. "Can't be a stick in the mud your whole life."
"Don't care," Jeryko said, walking toward the stairs.
Damian flashed in front of him. "You're gonna miss the main event—we have a live piñata."
Jeryko sidestepped him without breaking pace.
Nova gave him a dramatic thumbs down. "Boo! Tomato—tomato, I'm throwing tomatoes!"
"C'mon!" Damian followed. "Remember that rogue arms dealer I didn't catch a while back?"
Jeryko groaned. "What about him?"
"Well, Nova caught him!" Damian grinned wide. "And I plan on stringing him up upside down right in the middle of the living room. When the blood rushes to his head, I'll swing that razor bat you got me for Christmas."
Jeryko paused, sighing. "Sounds fun."
"Best friend in the world!" Nova shouted, high-fiving Damian. "Whooo!"
"You should join," Damian added. "I heard their little alien brains taste like chocolate."
Jeryko finally caved. "Fine. I'll stay."
He disappeared upstairs.
Damian and Nova exchanged a knowing glance.
"He's staying up there, isn't he?" Nova asked.
Damian sighed. "I'll convince him. Go to the party."
***
The party was in full swing.
Behind the Skyfather Compound, the royal park came alive beneath a blanket of starlight. Vibrant stone walls—each brick shimmering with a different hue—encircled the celebration like a mosaic crown. The scent of grilled meats mingled with bursts of citrusy incense from enchanted torches lining the paths. A bonfire roared in the center, casting flickering gold across dozens of laughing faces. Children darted through the open grass, their laughter echoing like music across the grounds.
"Now, time for the grand finale!" Liza called from the stage, her voice amplified by magic.
Heads turned skyward as she thrust a glowing hand upward. A cascade of rainbow-colored energy spiraled into the heavens, erupting in a dazzling explosion of fireworks. Multicolored streaks danced like spirits across the night sky, drawing gasps from the crowd. Liza smiled—not for praise—but for the joy in the children's eyes as they squealed and chased the light.
Descending from the stage, she waved at familiar faces. But her expression shifted when she spotted a certain someone slouched near the open bar, already several shots deep.
"Nova!" Liza called, cutting through the buzz of music and chatter.
Nova flung back another shot, then whipped around, arms raised. "Hey, bitch!"
"Hey!" Liza laughed, catching her in a warm hug. "Where are Damian and Jeryko?"
"Jeryko's being a party pooper, so fuck him," Nova declared without hesitation, snatching two glasses off a passing tray. "And Damian should be dragging his ass here any minute now. Bottoms up, hoe!"
Liza accepted the shot, tossed it back, and coughed lightly as the burn hit her chest. "Whoo! Shit!"
Nova slapped the bar with her palm. "C'mon—another round!" Then she turned toward Liza again, her eyes gleaming mischievously. "You see that guy over there?"
Liza followed her gaze to the left. "Which one?"
"The tall, fine one," Nova said, practically purring. "New guy. Damian's childhood friend."
Liza laughed. "Wait—you're serious? Him?"
"Dead-ass. Mister tall, dark, and handsome over there."
Liza gave him another glance, then shrugged. "He's cute. But I thought you don't mix business with pleasure."
Nova scoffed, tossing back another shot. "Bitch, I said relationships. I ain't tryna marry him—I just wanna ruin his weekend with some of the best sex he's ever had and move on. And he's not Babylon-affiliated, so he's fair game."
Liza coughed. "Bitch you're a menace to society."
"Damn right I am." Nova stood, adjusting her top with flair. Boobs bouncing. "How do I look? I'm going over there. Be my wing girl. Distract the rest of the squad."
Liza smirked and shook her head. "Actually, I gotta make a quick call first—"
"A call? Girl, don't leave me hangin'!" Nova groaned dramatically but sauntered off anyway, hips swaying like she owned the night.
Liza walks off, her phone in hand.
"Boo!" Nova called playfully as she walked backward toward the group. "Torvez, boo!"
***
Back at the Skyfather Compound, Damian lounged in front of the massive tv screen, watching a marathon of his favorite show. With one hand, he sipped from a glass of Red Sea—and with the other, he casually flung darts into the skull of a mutilated enemy nailed to the wall. The thud of each dart gave him clarity. Focus. Throwing darts helped him think.
He should've been at the party, but something heavy clawed at the edges of his mind.
Being the strongest is boring sometimes. It's not that I don't take pride in my position at the top of the food chain. I wonder if there's anyone out there I can't crush with brute force alone?
Damian walked up to the corpse, plucked out one of its eyes, and bit down on it like an olive on a toothpick. He chewed slowly, savoring the crunch, then poured himself another shot.
I don't expect to lose—because I can't. That's impossible. But a challenge? That'd be nice. I haven't had to evolve in five thousand years.
Footsteps echoed down the hall.
Damian listened carefully, zoning in.
Cassy. Of course.
He sighed. Maybe she's here to suck some dick—that's really all her mouth is good for. Her attitude, though? I could live without it. Might cut out her tongue if she keeps talking. No, wait... I'd regret that. Fuck it. She says something dumb, she's dead.
A blonde woman approached the threshold of his quarters. She didn't knock. She never did.
"I've finished walking the north perimeter, sir," she said stiffly.
The fuck? She could've just texted that. Damian put his glass down and folded his hands behind his back closing his eyes. "Good work. But if that's all you came here for, you can leave. I'm not—"
He cut himself off mid-sentence, dodging a knife that whizzed past his head.
His counterattack was instant—he kicked her hard, sending her skidding across the floor.
Steam rose from a deep gash on his face, blood dripping from one eye, sliding down his cheek, and soaking his shirt. He touched the wound, eyes narrowed. That shouldn't have happened.
Cassy stood, already regenerating from a broken rib.
Damian didn't hesitate. He blitzed her, breaking her nose and knocking her unconscious before she could react.
He stood over her body, feeling the sting in his eye. That hit was divine. And it hadn't fully healed.
That blade... Even if it's divine, it shouldn't have done that.
Footsteps. Again.
Damian's ears sharpened.
More? Ten to fifteen?
The door creaked open. Several assassins spilled into his room, each armed with knives identical to the one that had cut him.
He exhaled slowly, relaxed his muscles, and rolled his neck.
"Let me guess..." he said. "Ya'll wanna die too."
***
A few rooms away, Jeryko read peacefully, seated in a chair with a leather-bound book resting on one knee. He didn't even glance up as shadows crept across the walls—dozens of cloaked assassins inching toward him, some crawling across the ceiling like spiders.
"What a pleasant day to forfeit your lives," he said calmly, flipping a page.
A ripple of dread surged through the assassins.
Too late.
They were torn apart in seconds, limbs flying, blood painting the walls in strokes of crimson.
Hearing more chaos down the hall, Jeryko rose and exited his room, only to be greeted by a demon lunging for him from the shadows.
He caught it by the throat mid-leap.
Snap.
"Listen well," Jeryko said, absorbing the demon's soul through his hand. "There is nothing—and no one—above me."
Boom!
A door burst open.
"Vampires are so arrogant," a woman announced, stepping into the hallway. Her voice was smooth, sword drawn. "Though, I suppose your last words can be anything you want."
Jeryko didn't respond. He stood with his back to her, utterly unimpressed.
"You're not even going to face me?" she asked, darting forward with a strike.
He vanished. Her blade sliced air.
That speed, she thought, spinning to hurl a dagger.
Jeryko appeared behind her as she tried to teleport. The dagger she'd thrown now rested in her own hand. But her feet weren't touching the ground.
Every molecule in her body was being yanked backward.
Jeryko intensified his void field. She crashed against a wall of purple energy—then began to dissolve.
"Projection magic," he said coldly.
She was never truly there.
***
Back down the hall, Damian stared his attackers down. They were spreading out, trying to box him in.
He smirked.
Whatever that weapon is, they all have it. And they think cornering me gives them the edge. Who do they think they are? They're trapped in here with me! Not the other way around!
With the fireplace at his rear, fangs flashing, he exploded forward tearing off one of their heads with his bare hands. Blood sprayed like a fountain, but Damian made sure the body fell away from his carpet.
"Y'all nervous yet?" he said, his voice shifting—layered with an eerie echo, like two voices speaking slightly out of sync.
Another assassin lunged. Damian parried, slamming him into the kitchen.
"Touch my snacks, I swear to God," he muttered. "Oh—too late." He grinned, eyeing the limp body.
Another scream. Another attacker.
Damian flipped him, stomped his chest in, then dodged a swing meant for his head. The blade missed and hit a teammate instead.
"Whoops! Friendly fire!" Damian taunted, delivering a spinning kick that knocked another through the bookshelf.
Limbs rolled. Blood sprayed. Teeth cracked under his heel.
Damian bit into one assassin's throat, tearing through muscle and bone.
The remaining attackers began to retreat, forming a cautious perimeter.
They want me to overcommit now. Try to bait me.
He took a deep breath. Fire stirred in his lungs.
His jaw cracked open unnaturally wide. His eyes turned black.
One assassin panicked. "Retreat!"
Too late.
A torrent of green flame incinerated him on the spot.
Only two remained. One of them—Cassy—was barely conscious, crawling.
Damian sucked the blood off his fingers. "Don't leave now. The party's just getting started."
Cassy reached for her last teammate. But he froze, eyes wide, and ran for the door.
He opened it—and was immediately clotheslined by Jeryko, who stepped into the room.
"Really?" Jeryko asked, looking around at the carnage.
"What?" Damian shrugged. "I like a good chase. You ain't have to kill the vibe and do that."
Jeryko sighed.
Damian grinned. "So, who's setting up the torture room—me or you?"
***
Bursting through the front door after receiving an emergency call, Nova skidded to a stop thirty minutes later—only to find Damian lounging on the couch watching TV like nothing had happened.
To his right, Cassy was naked and tied to a wooden chair riddled with knives. Blood pooled beneath her, dripping steadily from her thighs and ass in a slow, sticky stream. The floor glistened dark red beneath her.
Nova's face twisted. "What kind of weird BDSM shit is this?" she asked, stepping over a charred leg lying across the entryway.
Damian looked back, catching the alarm in her wide eyes. "Relax," he said, standing. "I didn't stain the carpet."
"It better not be," she snapped, dropping her bag. "I just bought that shit. Expensive too! And why the hell aren't you doing this—literally anywhere else?"
"I didn't wanna miss my show," Damian replied.
"Fuck that show."
Nova marched over, stopping in front of him. Damian stretched and yawned.
"So what happened here again?"
He scratched the back of his head as she circled the couch, stepping around more body parts—some burned, some shredded beyond recognition.
"One of ours tried to assassinate me. Thought maybe it was mind control, but I checked. No trace. So either the bastard controlling her is next-level... or she's just dumb as hell. My guess? She let them in. Which means we've either got more traitors—or a serious breach we missed."
Nova squinted at Cassy. "Place looks like an orgy gone wrong."
Damian chuckled, catching the bag of chips she tossed at him.
"Found those spicy ones you like," she said. "Also... dude, what the fuck is wrong with your face?"
He shrugged. "Whatever weapon they had—it's taking me a minute to fully adapt."
"Damn, they got yo ass good!" Nova laughed.
"Fuck you."
"Fuck you too!"
"You see how they turned out." Damian grabbed Cassy's hand and snapped her fingers. She screamed.
Unbothered, Nova walked to the fridge, grabbed a drink, cracked it open. "Our lives never cease to amaze me. I never thought I'd see the day DarKai got his ass handed to him."
"Shut up before I fold yo bitch ass too." Damian followed her, stretching again. "But it is... interesting."
Nova sipped, then walked toward the basement hall. "You said they got to Jeryko too, right? Where is he?"
"Down in the Deathment," Damian said.
Nova descended into the basement, her steps echoing off the stone walls. The deeper she went, the colder the air became. The familiar stench of blood, rusted iron, and burnt flesh crept into her nose.
"How did this happen?" she called out.
"You know my brother," Jeryko replied coolly, standing in front of a mangled body chained to the wall. "Arrogant as usual."
Nova walked closer, observing the tortured man moaning softly in and out of consciousness. She tilted her head. "You save one for me?"
"No," Jeryko said, casually picking up a pair of blood-stained pliers handing them to her. "Get what you can. Don't have to much fun."
"Aww, you're so sweet. Yes, sir!" Nova saluted with mock enthusiasm. She skipped toward the prisoner like a child heading into a candy store. "This is what I do, baby!"
Jeryko leaves the room taking a phone call.
***
Back upstairs, Damian leaned against the couch, flipping the channel because a commercial interrupted his show. With a bored sigh, he picked up a second remote—the wire from it snaked across the floor and ended at Cassy's ankle, tightly wound.
"You know," Damian said, pressing a button.
Cassy convulsed violently as electricity surged through her bound body, her muscles spasming out of sync.
"...these cartoons aren't half bad. Some of 'em are actually funny." He watched her healing slowly as he popped open the bag of Doritos Nova brought. A smirk spread across his face. "Nova might've been onto something, taking Reese up on that trip to Earth Realm. Humans might not be entirely useless after all. They do make decent entertainment..."
He glanced at Cassy, her body still twitching, then offered the open bag. "Chip?"
Cassy sucked in ragged breaths through her nose, trying to maintain whatever composure she had left.
"You sure? It's the spicy kind," Damian teased, shaking the bag.
Her mouth was gagged with cloth, sealed tightly by a layer of duct tape.
"Phew. More for me then." He crunched on another chip and walked to the fireplace. There, a metal poker rested in the glowing embers, heated by his signature vampire flame.
"Ahhh... should be hot enough..." he mused, grabbing it.
Then, with a single violent motion, he ripped the tape from Cassy's face—tearing strips of skin with it.
She screamed, blood and saliva mixing as she cried out, "I told you! I'm not talking! So why are you doing this?! It's a waste of your time—just kill me!"
Damian laughed, each syllable heavier with cruel delight. "Well, for starters... this is fun." His grin widened, voice light with sarcasm. "I mean, you're havin' fun, right? I wouldn't wanna hog all the festivities for myself." He crouched in front of her, holding the glowing poker close to her trembling skin. "If you want, I can hand you a knife, let you cut yourself—for every question you get wrong. Or refuse to answer."
Cassy's entire body tensed. She squealed, shaking her head wildly.
"Listen. Not talking won't help you," Damian said, his voice softening into something far more dangerous. He stood slowly, moving behind her, dragging the tip of the heated metal lightly across her collarbone. "I don't think anything will. But screaming... definitely won't."
He caressed her shoulders like a lover, the gentleness a mockery of the situation. His touch left trails of boiling skin, her flesh blistering and peeling under the supernatural heat of his presence.
"But let's be fair," he continued. "I haven't pushed the right buttons yet. So... before I go the whole 'murder everyone you love' route, I'll give you a chance to come clean. Because I hate repeating myself. 'Cause when I do—" his voice turned cold, "—things tend to get violent."
Cassy cried silent tears, her jaw trembling as more of her skin began to char under his touch. Still, she kept her mouth shut.
"You're cryin' and I haven't even started torturing you for real yet!" Damian said with mock sympathy before flashing in front of her.
Cassy screamed again. Her bottom lip trembled as she gasped for breath.
"Who do you work for?!" Damian roared, his voice a booming shockwave of fury.
Cassy flinched so hard she knocked over the chair. Damian bent down, grabbed a handful of her hair, and yanked her face up to meet his burning gaze.
"Who gave you the weapons?!" he shouted, inches from her face. "I've never seen those before."
"I'll never tell you!" Cassy spat between sobs. She panted loudly, hyperventilating as her body squirmed helplessly, every nerve lit up with pain.
Stubborn as hell, Damian thought. Cute.
"One way or another," she said, barely able to focus through the agony, "we are going to wipe you out before you crawl back to the top of the food chain."
"The fuck are you talking about?" Damian replies. A look of intrigue. "Back to the top—I never left."
He jammed his finger into her shoulder wound, then pressed down hard on her thigh. The chair creaked, and the spikes beneath shifted—sending tiny shards of glass deeper into her rectum.
"Now how about you talk," he snarled, "before I start picking off, one by one, each and every person you care about. I won't ask again."
Suddenly, Damian held his head—his pupils dilated as a high-pitched ringing sliced through his mind. It lasted seconds before fading.
"You've reached your friendly neighborhood vampire," he muttered, annoyed. "How can I help you?"
"Hey!"
"Tinker Bell," Damian said, rolling his eyes. "My favorite annoying fairy. You really gotta get better at these mind links."
"You know what—never mind."
"Whataya want? I'm busy."
"You jerk. You were supposed to be here! How're you gonna have me plan a party and not even show up?"
"Circumstances changed. I might be there later," Damian said flatly—then casually backhanded Cassy across the face.
"Everything okay?"
Damian walked over and slumped onto the couch. "I'm doing fantastic."
"You know I can tell when you're lying."
"How 'bout you stop reading my subconscious."
"I'm not, you idiot. As an empath—I can literally feel your emotions radiating off you."
He grunted and adjusted the pillows. "If you must know, I'm entertaining a new houseguest. I think we got off on the wrong foot... but they might be coming around."
Cassy choked on blood, then vomited it onto the floor.
"On second thought... maybe not. These bitches thought it'd be a good idea to try and fail to kill me. At first, I thought the spell you placed around the compound broke. But then I remembered—I'm the best. And I taught you. Which means you're too good to let that happen, right?"
"Well oh great one and master of all things—how did the intruders get in, then?"
"Beats me." Damian smirked, kicking the decapitated head of another body across the room. "Sounds like an inside job."
"You're okay, right?"
"Was that a rhetorical question?" Damian asked. "You should be asking if they're okay."
"You're right. I know my great and all-powerful teacher could never lose."
"Correct. For I am the strongest to ever exist."
"Shut up."
"I left two of them alive for questioning. But they'll be dead soon enough." Damian pressed the electric button again.
Cassy's screams echoed as she convulsed, blood bubbling from her lips.
He continued, "You know, earlier this morning, I took a stroll through the city, and ridiculously long story short... I bought a new torture device."
"Torture device?! Anyway—look, I'm just gonna come to you and reinforce the barrier spells. Just in case it was my fault."
"Aight," Damian said. "See you when you get here."
"But hey... do you think maybe later we can talk? After all this?"
"Bout what?" Damian asked.
"Don't worry about it right now. We'll talk when it's settled."
"Now why would you—never mind," Damian mumbled, glancing at his broken prisoner. "We'll talk over a drink."
"Sure."
Damian's lips twitched into a smile. "Y'know... I just love that girl."
He looked down at Cassy.
"Now, she hates seeing people get tortured... so you're in luck. Your death's gonna be rather qui—"
"Fuck you!" Cassy screamed, blood and spit flinging from her mouth. "You think you're better than us?! You're all the goddamn same! Monsters! Parasites! You're not gods, you're disease!"
Cassy snarled through cracked lips. "You're roaches in mortal skin. Thousands of years of evolution, and you're still leeching off the living. You feed, you murder, you brainwash, and somehow think you've earned a fucking throne for it. You alone have killed trillions of people!"
"Really?" Damian says touching his chest in disgust. He stared at her like she was an insect. "Don't ever downplay me to such a degree I've killed far more people than that. Those are rookie numbers—I've destroyed entire timelines—multiverses—you name it. Dimensions filled with infinite numbers of life. To be honest who knows how many lives I've taken. I'm not a coffin level threat to authorities for nothing. Show some respect damn it"
"You're not rulers," Cassy spat. "You're addicts with delusions of grandeur. You should all be wiped out. Scorched from the universe like the filth you are."
Damian blinked once, slowly. He rolled his neck and sighed. "See... this is where I get disappointed."
He stepped closer, dragging the chair—and her—with him. His voice dropped, low and deadly.
"I was really hoping you'd say something clever. Something enlightening. But instead, you gave me this boring-ass monologue? God, it's always the same. 'Boohoo, the vampires are evil. The vampires are in power. The vampires hurt me.'"
He crouched in front of her, expression unreadable.
"You know why we're still on top?" he asked softly.
Cassy didn't answer. Her mouth trembled, but the rage burned on.
"Because unlike your kind, we don't pretend. We ain't dressing up our hate in righteousness. We are what we are." He leaned in. "And the world? It bows to power. Not to morality."
Damian rose slowly, eyes burning hotter now. His tone was steady, but the air around him cracked with suppressed fury.
"You know what I really hate?" he said, more to himself than to her. "When prey forgets that they're prey."
He turned away from her, pacing now. Talking himself down.
"See, it's not about vampires being better. It's about being stronger. Smarter. Hungrier. Your people? You burn cities, start wars, lie to your own kind... and then you point at us like we're the monsters."
He stopped and looked over his shoulder.
"You wanna know the difference between me and you?"
Cassy just wheezed, body trembling, blood soaking the floor beneath her.
Damian stepped toward her one last time.
"I know what I am."
He raised a finger, and Cassy screamed again—not from a touch, not from a strike, but from the sheer pressure radiating off of him. The weight of a god condensed into one unbearable moment.
"You're not a martyr," he said. "You're food."
Cassy's breathing hitched. Her head hung low now, neck too weak to hold it up, but her eyes still burned through the blood and tears.
"Go to hell," she whispered hoarsely. "You'll be right at home."
Damian stood over her in silence. Not angry. Not amused. Just... disappointed.
"Wrong answer."
He yanked her upright by the collar and drove his hand through her chest in one fluid motion. A wet crunch echoed as her ribs cracked open like twigs, her back arching in pure agony. Blood sprayed across his face and he didn't blink—he just stared into her eyes, his own glowing with otherworldly fury.
"You know what hurts more than dying?" Damian whispered as her heart beat against his palm. "Knowing it didn't even fucking matter."
Cassy gurgled. Her limbs shook, her soul itself fracturing under the supernatural force pumping through his hand.
And then, in a casual flick of his wrist, he tore her heart free.
The scream she let out wasn't human. It was ancient, primal—a sound of something that had lost all hope.
Damian turned and, without looking, flung the still-beating organ across the room. "Kobe!" It smacked into the side of the trash can and slid in perfectly.
He grinned.
Behind him, the body slumped like a puppet with its strings cut.
Just as he dusted off his hands, Jeryko walked in, dripping blood from his own fun downstairs.
"Time and again, I'm proven right about who we can trust," Jeryko muttered.
Damian wiped blood from his jaw with the back of his arm. "Yeah, yeah. But look—this one was tough. Bitch wouldn't say a goddamn thing. The usual crap. Vampires are evil. We're monsters. She was gonna save the world. Blah blah blah. Shit was so boring, I almost fell asleep."
He crouched by Cassy's corpse and used his hand to flap her jaw like a puppet.
"'Oh no, the vampires are bad! You're not gonna be top of the food chain anymore!' Boohoo. Someone needs to hire better writers for our enemies. This script's outdated."
"No luck, huh?" Jeryko asked, stepping over an arm.
"Same as yours?"
Jeryko nodded.
"Maybe Nova—" Damian began.
"Mother fucker!" Nova's voice boomed from the hallway.
She came storming in, dragging a man by the leg. His face was slack, blood pouring from his nose.
"I went to take a piss and this asshole bit off his own tongue and choked on it before I could even ask one question. What kind of dumbass dies that fast?!"
Damian raised an eyebrow. "Were you gonna let him live anyway?"
Nova put a hand on her hip. "That a rhetorical question? Don't answer that. Of course it was."
She tossed the corpse in the middle of the floor.
"He's still a bitch for not choosing his family. Could've seen his kids again. But nah. Loyalty to death. Fuckin' clown."
Damian chuckled, lifted Cassy's corpse, and flung it onto the other body like trash being stacked. In a blink, both ignited in a pillar of green flames and vanished into ash.
"Well," Nova clapped, brushing her hands off, "now that that's done, I'm going back to the party."
"No," Jeryko said, deadpan. "You're staying here. Party's over."
Nova stopped starring at him. "You're joking, right? You're not seriously gonna let these bitches petty assassination attempt ruin the night. We've lived through literal apocalypses. This ain't shit."
"It's different," Jeryko said. "This wasn't random. It was coordinated. From inside most likely." He turned to Damian. "And your wound still hasn't healed."
Nova flopped down on the couch. "Okay look, give him until tomorrow. Maybe afternoon. He'll evolve past it. Vamps don't get permanent damage. This is just... weird."
"Incoming guy who was actually cut," Damian muttered, lounging beside her. "My regeneration hit a wall. Nothing. It's like the damage is still there, just... dormant."
Nova pulled out her phone. "Fucking fantastic. I was gonna get Rytisu drunk and sit on his—"
"—that's a crime," Jeryko cut in.
"Not now, Jerry," Nova growled. "You're killing my vibe."
Jeryko ignored her. "Shut the party down. More of them could still be hiding in plain sight."
Nova groaned and got up. "You know, just because you're celibate doesn't mean the rest of us gotta be." She paused at the door. "You haven't had a real connection in a thousand years."
"You don't know Murk," Damian said.
"I was gonna."
"Good for you. Now shut it down."
"Must suck to be you."
"Fuck you."
"Fuck you too, bitch!" Nova sang, skipping away to open the front door.
Liza's face was the first she saw.
"Time to close down the party," Nova said. She leans in to whisper. "I'm going to get another drink first though. Don't tell him."
"I can hear you, ya fuckin' bimbo," Damian said. "Get your alcoholic ass a drink and shut it down."
"Whoops!" Nova teleports away.
Jeryko shakes his head.
Liza stepped in, her heels clicking sharp and steady against the polished floor. She carried herself like a storm barely contained—elegant, but lethal.
"Thought you said you weren't hurt," she said, gently touching his face.
Damian touches her hand. "I'm fine."
"So," Liza said sitting. "I did a psychic scan of everyone in the area when we got off the phone. No one here knew anything about an attempt on your life."
"That could be a good thing or a bad thing," Jeryko said.
"What do you mean?" Liza asks.
"Someone could've removed their memories entirely before coming here," Damian said.
"Or suppressed any malicious intent far into their subconscious so you won't see it in a brief scan. And after the party they would return home regaining their memories once the deed is done," Jeryko adds.
"Sounds a bit paranoid. People really go to those lengths?" Liza does another brief scan. "Still nothing."
"We can't take any chances," Jeryko said walking away.
"So what are we going to do?"
"Kill them all," Damian said.
"Kill all of who?" Liza blurts aloud.
Damian grabs hold of her arm shushing her. "Shut the fuck up."
Liza takes a deep breath and whispers firmly. "There are children outside!"
"I don't care," Jeryko said.
"I don't know how you're viewing it, but our immortality is looking rather fragile at the moment," Damian said. "We leave anyone alive there is a fifty-fifty chance they come back here and do it again."
"Like you said, it's a fifty-fifty chance," Liza said getting close. Her eyes now lit up neon purple. "It's also a fifty percent chance none of that will even happen."
"And a hundred percent chance we survive my way," Damian said as Jeryko expanded his range.
Liza's eyes returned to normal, for no supernatural energy can exist in Jeryko's presence. So she backs down.
"I knew you were both twisted but if you kill everyone including those kids you're even more of a monster than I thought."
"I have no problem killing anyone if it means mine or my family's survival," Damian said. "We built Babylon from the ground up so I'll be damn if anyone threatens that."
Liza gulps.
Damian touches her shoulder. "Sometimes we have to make tough calls. We do whatever it takes to protect this family. I told you this before you joined us."
"Put up a daqui barrier. None can enter and no one leaves. That's a direct order. If you wont comply, then I will steal all of your power and do it myself. Either way the job gets done." Jeryko sighs. "Damian let's go. We leave no one alive."
***
After the massacre Liza returned to her room. She decided to spend her night reading to take her mind off everything.
Thump!
She heard a noise causing her to look up. Damian flew onto her balcony. He tapped on the window.
What could he want? Liza thought.
She wasn't going to open the door, but it could be an emergency. So she put down her book and walked towards the sliding doors to open it.
"You coulda used the front door?" she said opening it up.
Damian enters her room.
"What do you want?" Liza asks.
Damian sat a large paper bag down in her kitchen. "I brought dinner."
Even though I could go for a bite, the last thing I want is for him to think I'm not still mad at him. Liza walks over to him, she sat down on a stool. Next propping her chin on her hand. "I'm not hungry."
"Look, it's late. What's up?" she said.
"I had to do that," Damian said. "You know if I left any of them alive we could be in danger."
"Could be!" Liza goes back to sit down on the couch. "The children, really? I'm no saint myself but what you did was just... plain evil."
"I'll do anything to protect my family. Being evil is subjective anyway. In the eyes of my people I am a hero, but to those who oppose me I am evil. There is no such thing as right or wrong only the perspective of those who commit said action." Damian follows. "No one is really evil. If everyone has their own definition of what's right and wrong then is there really a definitive answer to the question. Everyone has their reasons and there are always two sides to every conflict. I will not put the life of another over my family innocent or not. With the evil we face, they use kids all the time. I can't tell you how many times we've gone up against a threat and a child bombed our base? Or took some of our men out because they hesitated once they realized it was a kid shooting or casting a spell at them."
Liza stares in the other direction. "This was different."
"How so?"
"Because in that situation I'm pretty sure you were a hundred percent certain that child was an enemy right? You told me your main goal is to save people and I tried to save those kids."
"So, your point is?"
"We didn't know whether those kids or any of the people at the party were a threat or not. I scanned the room. There was no one with foul intent towards any of us. I told you that verbatim. From the outside looking in we murdered thousands of innocent people based for no reason! That's the difference!"
Damian crosses his arms. "All this talk, if you cared that much why didn't you try and stop the massacre. You fought back against your oppressors when I met you. It's why you're standing here now and not somewhere alone and homeless. You fought for your beliefs then. Why not now?"
"Beca—Because I—"
"Because deep down you have nowhere else to go and you don't want what happen to your people to happen here," Damian said. "You know I would never let anything happen to you or anyone you genuinely care about. That's the point of family, you have each others backs no matter what. All for One, One for All."
I'm not entirely sure of everything he's been through since I last saw him. But he's clearly seen a lot, Liza thought sitting silent. He's not doing things like this for no reason. I might not agree, but... I have to wonder. What could make a person think the way he does?
"I used to know someone who had a heart just like you." Damian sat beside her. "He made a mistake letting a terrorist go—off an assumption they couldn't be one based on how they looked and got himself severely injured and his entire squad killed. We can't make those kinds of mistakes in the field. Not even with kids. Better safe than sorry. I did what I had to do. This is war and we do what's necessary to survive, no matter what. Our enemy struck first, and I responded in kind with a show of force."
Liza looks down.
Damian lifts up her face. "This isn't over. So get yourself together. We're going to need you when the time comes. I sense a war coming."
Liza forced a smile. "All for One... Right." She puts out her fist.
Damian fist bumps her. "And One for All."