The dinner announcement came as something utterly unexpected. Rather than Harrington's excited tones, the calm accented voice of the General drifted through the intercom speakers
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Rude awakenings were cropping up on a more regular basis these days. Must be something in the air. Muted senses, holes in his memories...humans who were actually capable of taking him down. That was just never going to not piss him off.
Or, you know. The needle in his arm. That was a little annoying, too. Sonofabitch. But hey, at least he knew what their code 1-8 stood for now. What a payoff. He really struck gold with that one.
He yanked his arm out of her grip almost before the needle was withdrawn, leaving a short thin scratch of blood near the crook of his elbow. If he could've gotten up off the floor to do anything, he would've, but neither his leg nor his side was fully healed even now. Apparently. It'd been fine until someone decided it was a good idea to shove him to the ground
( ... )
In retrospect, it was very foolish of him. To assume that they would be granted any piece before night fell over them all once again. He should have seen it coming. The institute was picking up the pace with whatever it was they were doing. Incidents were happening more frequently and with more severe effects. Maybe they were stepping forward, having decided to take a more direct approach to their initiative. Or maybe they were trying to remind them all of their helplessness. Whatever the reasons, things were getting worse. Klavier had been a fool to assume he would be given a chance to sit down and thoroughly think it over
( ... )
So, second question: why him? Did he just draw the short straw or was there an actual logic to this? He'd like to know who else got forcibly volunteered. It better not be Elena. Or Stefan. Since his brother had decided to join Elena in bed last night instead of feeding, skipping out on one more night would be...problematic. Most importantly, it would be problematic for Damon
( ... )
Or, you know. The needle in his arm. That was a little annoying, too. Sonofabitch. But hey, at least he knew what their code 1-8 stood for now. What a payoff. He really struck gold with that one.
He yanked his arm out of her grip almost before the needle was withdrawn, leaving a short thin scratch of blood near the crook of his elbow. If he could've gotten up off the floor to do anything, he would've, but neither his leg nor his side was fully healed even now. Apparently. It'd been fine until someone decided it was a good idea to shove him to the ground ( ... )
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