Rémy Lestrade

Name: Rémy Lestrade
Tier 2: Global
Alignment: Villain
Team: Solo Villain
Strength: Rank 2
Body: Rank 1
Mind: Rank 2
Agility: Rank 1

Inner dialogue key, just in case it isn't immediately clear: Italics is future Rémy, bold italics is current Rémy.

Background:

It was dark. But not. My eyes felt like they were burning, but my nose itched, and my eyes always felt like that anyway.

Ignore it. It isn’t priority, I said to myself. At least, I think that’s what I said. I’m not sure, I couldn’t really hear me.

Huddled in the corner, I must’ve made for a pitiful sight. Like one of those wimpy wannabe vampire kids that started popping up a few years back. I bled, but not for the same reason as them. I bled because I needed to. And so did he. And so did I. And my nose itched. God damn, it itched. But I was busy. And it wasn’t priority.

I could feel him just in front of me, bleeding. His fair hair was stained with his life juice, and so was my mouth. If I could just finish the bleed, I could itch my nose.

Stop that, you insolent, indolent, incompetent shit!

I heard me that time. “Fuck me,” I grumbled through my mouthful. I could feel myself getting fuller, more energy coursing into me than I’ve had in days. He tastes of metal, just like everyone else. What a boring flavor. Who could take millennia of this?

I could. Or I will. And I will. And I can. I said so, several times. Wasn’t I listening?

I was confused when I first showed up. A blood-red cloud had appeared, and then so did I. But not me… yet me. I said something-- what was it? “This might sting for a while.” And then I was gone, but I definitely wasn’t. Just invisible. Inside me. Forever.

Blindness was the consequence of my trespassing through the boundaries of space-time. The way to rectify the existence of two of me, was to make it seem like there was only me.


Personality:

“Will I always be a complete piece of shit who ruins my life?”

I shook the Magic 8-Ball. I could feel its contents shifting beneath my fingers. I’d long since memorized what it felt like for each answer.

Yes, it read.

Good, at least now you have your answer. Fact is, now that I’ve done it, there isn’t a way around it. It’s a complicated paradox, but unavoidable if I wanted to survive.

“Well, fuck me for that one. I’d have preferred death to insanity.”

No, I wouldn’t.

“No, I wouldn’t. Good job, me. I’d much rather make my life hell.”

Or should I say, un-life?

“Fuck me. Fuck me so much.” My nostrils flared as I caught a new scent. Dog? No. Werewolf. Same difference. Who gives a shit?

I know I smell them, too.

“Difference between me and me is that I am woefully unprepared for a pack of mange factories heading my way.” I shivered in anticipation.

“Which means I’ll just have to siphon the dregs of the herd.”

I pressed myself into the corner of the barn, which was now empty but for the echoes of lives it once contained. I could hear them, but now they were irrelevant.

Ignore them. They’re not priority.

I KNOW. I PROMISE, I KNOW.

I slithered above the great barn door, on the frame, and waited for the pack to spread out and thin their numbers. The doors opened beneath me, and a lone wolf lumbered in to investigate. Once he got a whiff of the blood, which was plentiful, all over the walls and floor, he faltered in his step. This is where I would strike.

While he recovered, I closed the wooden door and my bloodied visage leapt from the shadows onto his back. My hands clawed for purchase in his neck and I pulled myself onto him, sending him to the ground with a thud.


Powers:

It’s not priority: Iron Will, Rank 2

I can get him. Just go for the throat. The rest isn’t priority.

I UNDERSTAND. JESUS.

My hands gripped his throat tight, stopping him from making noises to alert the pack. I got a grip around his larynx, and from there, it was like picking an apple.

My fist closed around his throat and I ripped it out. Blood gushed from the opening I’d made.

Like a water park, I remarked.

Kind of more like a broken fire hydrant. You’d think wolves would take something for their blood pressure.

I got to work quickly, drinking the blood from his mangled throat to quench my need. But really, it’s never quenched. Like an ever-burning flame, it devours all it can get a hold of. My gluttony is perhaps unmatched. But really, who cares? Not like anyone’s got the cajones to stop me.

“My nose itches again.”

Maybe I'm allergic to hay. Can’t say that farmboy earlier was much better in that department.

The oldest vampire to ever live, defeated by dead grass. What a fucking story. What a fucking travesty of a story.

My ears perked for a second as the door opened. In my intense moments of inner dialogue, I’d stopped observing my surroundings. Maybe now I’d pay. Probably not. But maybe I’d pay.

But the thing in the doorway wasn’t a werewolf. Or a dog. I actually rather liked dogs. Not as much as cats, but dogs were still pretty great.

Don’t bring that weak shit to my court: Regeneration, Rank 2

“How you doing, darling?”

Shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit.

“Hah, that was hardcore. I said it at the same time.”

Yes, time travel is so cool. Stop gushing and deal with HER.

“Ohmygodfuckoff?” I asked hopefully, questioningly.

“Nope, can’t do that. See, I promised these boys your head. I wanted it anyway, but now, I can get money for it.”

“Now, Shauna. Think of the good times!”

“I don’t think you murdering my entire family for fun qualifies as good times,” she deadpanned.

“Well, that really depends on your perspective, I guess. Well, what about… um… Maine?”

“Neither does kicking my dog into a wood chipper.”

“Nuance. Point is, we’ve got history, babe!”

“Ancient history.” She jumped at me, the stake in her hand burying itself in my chest. I don’t know why I let her, or rather, why I didn’t warn me. I’m sure I must’ve seen it.

“See you, Rémy. See you in hell.”

She turned and began walking back to the entrance of the barn.

“DON’T BRING THAT WEAK SHIT TO MY COURT, BITCH.”

She had her back to me for too long. The expression of surprise on her face was almost as sweet as her essence. The brutal, endless pounding of her heart finally stopped as the stake she’d tried to kill me with protruded from her torso. So did her heart, coincidentally.

I couldn’t quite bring myself to take her blood-- at least, not immediately.

I love the taste of your dreams: Psychic Vampire, Rank 2

I gave in after a brief moment watching the light fade from her eyes. My teeth sunk into her neck in a typical bloodsucking position that was nearly comical to me. I hadn’t cared too much for Shauna, but really, I shouldn’t have let her live so many years ago.

Neither of me quite remember why I did it, but the memories flooded into my mind, a slideshow of Shauna’s life and finally, her death. One final sigh escaped her, and so did her death scene from her essence.

I love reliving their memories. On top of the high I get from stealing their vitality-- all of it, I mean, what do they need, they’re dead-- I get to watch their life play by in an instant. I learn so much this way. And for a short time, I can see.

Now really, they don’t have to be dead for me to take their memories, but they don’t get them back, so what’s the point of not killing them? That’s just cruel. What if I take something really important, like… learning to ride a bike? Who could do without that memory?

In my head, I can hear you scream: Hyper-Sensitive Hearing, Rank 1

I could feel Shauna’s strength temporarily adding to my own-- unnecessary, maybe, but still helpful for all the mutts I’d have to dispatch. There had to be at least seven of them. I could probably just take out the biggest one in a showdown and then the other ones would run off, tails between their legs.

No, that’s not how werewolves work.

A man can dream.

Just finish up here and then we should really get back to the city.

I took a few steps forward, removing myself from the cavity of the barn, and into the firelight, provided so graciously by the farmboy’s house.

Shadows danced and flickered about me, I could assume, and the heat I could feel from the fire wouldn’t really affect the wolves’ fighting ability unless we got closer. So I did.

I could hear them stalking me from the rows of corn to either side, making minimal sound, granted, but enough that I could just hear them.

I stopped just outside the range of the fire, the embers whizzing past my face as parts of the wooden house collapsed. I turned and opened my arms wide.

“Can’t you hear it, boys? It’s the dinner bell! Come and get it!”

All at once, I was swathed in a fur coat. Some leapt over the house, some came from the corn. None of them spared a thought for what I might be able to retaliate with. Also, I was right. There were seven. I could feel each set of teeth trying to tear at my long-dead flesh. I could hear each of their hearts beating. I could hear all the little people in their heads, or I thought I could, struggling to get out of this beastly nightmare. Werewolves are so pitiable sometimes.

Tasty, tasty flesh: Bio-Vampire, Rank 1

But that’s not my problem. Someone else can cure lycanthropy. Like me. I could. I think. Could I?

Nope.

Shame.

I struck quickly, digging my hands into two furry necks and smashing their owners together. I heard whimpers that satisfied my gluttonously carnal vampiric insides.

It was a sea of blood when I was finished, my hands shaking with adrenaline and my eyes glowing red in voracity. Perhaps intimidation would be their only use.

I spent that evening picking meat from the bones of eviscerated wolfmen, an insatiable, wolfish desire taking control of my actions. Hah. Wolfish. How ironic. Their blood gave me greater capacity to eat even more, and so on. A vicious cycle it may be, but damned if I haven’t had so much fun in the time since then.

The fire had all but burned out, I could feel. I’d need to find somewhere to clean up.

I’d best be on my way before someone saw the great smokestack in the sky and called the fire department.

Messing around in your head: Mind Control, Rank 2

I walked back into the city on foot. I hadn’t made residence in the heart of the city, so the problem wouldn’t be bridges or anything, just avoiding being seen for long enough to be described to the police. Because bullets fucking hurt.

I’m sure my bloodstained clothes stood out in the city like a sore thumb, but with a crime rate this high, how was anyone going to be bothered to give a shit? I mean, really. Number five in the world. That has to be a milestone, right? The “people are totally allowed to walk around covered in blood” milestone?

I could hear something down the alley to my left, but couldn’t be assed to look. It probably wasn’t worth my time.

“Give me your fucking money,” I heard from my left as something or someone grabbed my arm and tugged me into an alley. I could smell the metal of a gun, could smell the sweat of this fuck in front of me, could hear his borderline-hyperventilative breathing. Some mugger. The guy’s nervous as hell.

He did tower over me, though, I could feel. He had me pinned against the wall, not that I was resisting. I’d been silent up to this point. He’d said a few somethings. About my money, wallet, blah blah blah. Who gives a shit?

“Shut. The. Fuck. Up. Damn.” This was probably me at my least eloquent, but really, did he deserve more brainpower?

“...What?”

“Didn’t you hear? Shut the fuck up. You’re really annoying. If you really wanted my business, you’d have just taken it. You’re honestly just not trying hard enough.”

“There’s something you got wrong there, guy. I ain’t want your business. I want your money or your life. And then your money.” He pressed the barrel of his gun against my head and he leaned in closer.

“Fuck off.”

I turned to smoke before his eyes, a black cloud that went right through his skin and into his body. I could see all his memories laid out before me like when I took blood. I dropped the gun from his hands and then ran into the wall. Again. Again. Again. Until I could feel the dent in the front of his head, the blood gushing over his eyes.

I exited his formidable body, let him fall to the hard concrete and walked away. With any luck, I’d never see him again.

I couldn't even if I tried.

Quite.