Vampire Rule N°37: Vampires Can't Eat AIs - This a petition by the Blood Suckers Against Clankers Association, please stop posting generic slop that pollutes the writing platforms, or just stealing stories by the dozen.
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There was something to be said about the simple pleasures in life, the way they made all the hardships feel pleasant in hindsight, made you feel like it was worth the pain.
Things like the earthy smell after it rains, playing around with bubble wrap like a little kid, enjoying a hearty dinner after a painfully long day, or watching a cat shove itself into a very small box.
Things like eating a pure chocolate parfait while listening to a pretty woman talk about her day, knowing full well that a fellow undead somewhere out there in the multiverse was probably brooding about vampirism making life horrible.
To him John says only one thing.
'Skill issue,' He closed his eyes after a spoonful of cold, chocolaty goodness.
They just had to get good, and maybe stop glittering.
"So this woman comes in, and I could tell just by her haircut that she was trouble, she had that unhot soccer mom feel, the one that says she gets wasted on the daily but isn't drunk because wine doesn't count," Max said, enjoying her own neapolitan ice cream, for her good taste was as potent as her back pains.
They were being a bit louder than what's considered polite in public, doubly so in an establishment like this, the kind of mildly fancy vintage stores trying to bring back ice cream parlors into fashion in a city suffering from heavy corporatizations of goods and services, it should've been a dud but ended up bringing its own loyal upper-middle class and hipstery crowd.
Anyone else would have gotten some rather harsh looks, but prolific investments and zero percent loans were a gateway to abilities some might consider unnatural.
Money talks, but it also lets you talk, apparently.
"The one that says she wants to talk to the manager?" He asked, still savouring the slightly bitter aroma of dark chocolate, truly, the exploitative companies outdid themselves.
"Nah, the one that says she's gonna call the regional director and that she would make you lose your job, your girlfriend and your dog if you don't apologize, refund and perform ritual japanese suicide on live tv." She said without blinking, pointing the spoon at him.
"That's very specific." He raised an eyebrow, and enjoyed the way she smirked, something between amusement and pyromania, freaking chaos gremlin that woman was sometimes…
It was pretty much part of her very being, it seeped into her words, behaviour, her hand gestures and expressions all the way down to her clothing choices.
That leather jacket and jeans combo pretty much screamed instigation.
It also happened to mirror one of his regular outfits.
These two facts were completely unrelated, and John Harker was in no way deliberately provocative or conflict seeking, to claim otherwise would lead to legal repercussions for defamation, slander and libel.
"Because that's exactly what she said, right after driving the little princess nuts for five minutes straight, asking so many questions but not buying anything," She huffed, crossing her arms which led to interesting results.
"And how did she go from nitpicking to demanding seppuku from a bakery's employee?" He grinned.
"Well, she didn't phrase that way," Max drawled, tapping her spoon on the glass, "But it was in the subtext, handsome, a woman can sense those things."
"Uh-huh," He kept looking at her, until she decided he somehow earned the right to the good parts of the story.
"I might've told her that if she was so concerned about her health, she could just head right over to the farmer's market, pick a large cucumber and feed it to her starved little kitten, might help her relax a bit." She said slowly and nonchalantly, as if she was discussing the weather.
There were many possible reactions to that particular string of words, spoken with little regard for the time and place, or the sensibilities of the approaching waitress bringing yet another serving of delicious, diabetes inducing desserts.
He could laugh.
He could one up her.
He could escalate the action.
What he didn't want to do was likewise, rather obvious.
He didn't want to mention his own dealings with starved kittens, or serpents for that matter.
He didn't want her to stop having a good time.
And he absolutely didn't want to be interrupted by his phone ringing, despite making it clear that he was unavailable and should only ever be disturbed if Gotham was about to burn down.
"Excuse me," He smiled apologetically and pulled out the good old Nokia, because no amount of jailbreaking could make him comfortable using a Waynephone, or worse, a spyware addled Lexphone.
Max only shrugged and busied herself with the good food.
"What happened?"He asked, fully prepared to unleash a tongue lashing of massive proportions if the answer was lacking.
Unfortunately, the answer was not lacking.
"Sorry, boss," It was Reginald who called, from the bunkered, legally nonexistent office in Brideshead according to the number, which meant this wasn't regular Harker business, but something that required his special touch, "But we've got a Code Black."
If he was alive, these words would probably make his heart skip a beat.
Code Black.
Oh, so that's how it is.
In true accordance with racial discrimination, code black was the worst possible situation they could currently manage with their current resources, the level above it not being subject to any color but a much more striking 'We're f¨cked and probably gonna die.'
There were plenty of things that could bring that level of calamity, despite his growing strength, anything from alien incursions to stronger than average mages could, and would ruin everything he built if given the chance.
Code Black is comparison was much tamer, only amounting to that damage a modern army could inflict upon John and his domain, such sweet and wonderful things as the murderous attention of ancient assassins, the gaze of the flying man in blue who somehow got past both the ever present lead in Gotham, and the sound pollution of nearly constant violent crimes and abuses.
Or nukes.
"Explain," He asked calmly, yet in a way that allowed neither delay nor deceit.
Dumbledore could take pointers.
In time it took for Max to savour another unworried spoonful of tasty chocolate stolen from his own cup, the time it took for Bubbles to gather his words all the while doubtlessly preparing himself for incoming orders, John's mind raced with possibilities and their solutions.
Most of which involved him doing a massacre to harvest the highest amount of blood possible, forcefully evolve into a higher breed of vampire, then share a thorough and very enthusiastic walk with those responsible for ruining his plans, carefully built reputation and the safety of his domain.
Flipping a chessboard he set up so masterfully was not ideal.
Giving up on precious assets and relationships was horrible.
Sacrificing quality for quantity was unacceptable.
Unfortunately, there are times when a man's efforts avail him no good choice, only some less wretched than the others.
In the end, it all depends on the catastrophe at hand.
"There is a mass breakout in Arkham, the entire freaks gallery along with the super morons who broke them out are duking it out with the bats and GCPD," Bubbles said, his voice carrying that one emotion between exasperation and horror that was so uniquely Gotham's, "It gets worse, the Joker somehow managed to smuggle a dirty bomb right under batman's nose, right there in the asylum."
Huh.
"That's simultaneously better and worse than what I expected," He answered, closing his eyes as he contemplated the best possible courses of action, the path that balances risk and reward, "In any case, it's probably too late to do any large scale evacuation, I'll be joining you right you, have Larissa and a ride on a standby, then prioritize your own safety and that of our necessary personnel."
First, he needed to establish the facts.
The villains were making a break for it.
A group of metahuman caused the breakout.
The Joker had a nuke.
His little finger's telling that the uncomfortable amount of government spooks lurking around the city was due to this particular dumpster fire.
It could therefore be assumed that there is a link between the oh so secret operation that was noticed by literally every player in town, and the utter foolishness of a group of enhanced individuals trying to break into the Asylum to let freakshows out.
People didn't rescue friends from Arkham, largely because these people don't have friends, the closest thing was some large scheme from the Joker which amounts to causing untold damages and making Batsie have another bout of depression.
Now, he only knew of one government shitstain so skilled at catastrophic incompetence that they could fumble the bag to this extent.
The obese whale herself.
One of the people whose blood he would never consume even if he was literally starving to death, a title only shared by the Joker, Harley Quinn and Jeffrey Epstein.
Amanda Waller.
Or in this case, yet another obstacle on the path to victory.
Looking back at Max, who was doing a very poor job of acting like she didn't sense that something was wrong, he made a quick decision.
"I'm sorry, but it seems like we must cut things short," He pulled a few bills and put them on the table while the young woman looked at him in a way that would make the average Chinese protagonist reject her for courting death, "The joker's breaking out of the Asylum, you'll be going on a ride up to the country just in case, I'll join you as soon as I'm certain my folks won't end up poisoned to death,"
And just like that, the anger and dissatisfaction was gone, leaving behind only the concern and hesitation of a woman who spent years in this diseased city.
A woman who knew nothing she could do or say would stop him from doing what he must.
A woman who would worry despite knowing he was safer than anyone in Gotham, by virtue of his strength alone.
In the end, Max could only aggressively gulp down a comical amount of food before sighing with as much contentment as resignation.
"Just try to stay safe, okay?" She smiled at him, and he once more noted that he truly didn't deserve her affections.
But he'll take it regardless.
"I will."
Unfortunately for a lot of people, him staying safe meant causing vast amounts of physical and psychological trauma upon their sorry arses.