Title: Sylum Teaser
Author: Bj Jones
Author’s Note: This is a section of upcoming storyline that will introduce these two into Sylum – you had a mild tease of Michael Turning Reese – this particular scene will take place a year afterwards
ADMIN NOTE: This teaser will not show up in storyline due to the fact Harold and Reese totally changed their canon. So Enjoy the snippet but understand this is Non-Canon now.
She and Fusco had been brought in on the Vampire element of the whole operation exactly a week after Reese had been Turned. She had seen him in agitated states before. Not that it was much different from his normal mood when dealing with criminals, but suddenly he was way beyond anything either she or her partner had truly witnessed from him.
Their Man in the Suit looked ready to burn the world down.
Detective Carter couldn’t help but wonder if that was what Peter had seen right before John destroyed him.
“I won’t let them hurt him worse.” His growl was low, deadly.
“He’s a Vampire like you, right?” Fusco pointed out. “Finch will survive.”
“Harold is in pain. They’ve already roughed him up trying to get their banking information.” John focused on the scene taking place on the building across from them.
Their Person of Interest had ended up being a financial consultant for a non-profit organization, who had discovered the President of said organization busy using the charity to launder money for the Russian Mob.
While John had protected their number, Harold went undercover at the charity as an IRS Auditor, and while downloading all the necessary and highly incriminating evidence, he had taken advantage of a wide open opportunity to move the charity’s remaining accounts to a secure location. Despite John yelling at him to get out of the building, he had deliberately risked the extra minutes to track down the rest of the laundered money too, and emptied every single account.
He’d been caught just as the last account hit zero.
John had tossed their charge into a safe house, contacted Fusco and Carter to meet him at the office building, and broken more than a dozen traffic laws to get there himself, all the while keeping his voice calm and soothing, making sure his Mate knew he was coming.
They barged onto the roof of the building, expecting Russian thugs and Harold.
Instead they found it empty.
The Vampire snarled in frustrated rage, feeling every blow that rained down on Harold.
He also felt his Mate’s already injury worn body, weaken considerably with each new wound inflicted.
It was Carter who discovered that eight goons and Harold were in fact located on the roof of the building next to the one they were standing on, and the three of them had stood on the edge looking down, watching as the leader demanded their money.
Harold never cried out in pain.
Never uttered a word.
And John felt enormous pride in his Mate, as well as a fresh sense of awe at Harold’s strength.
He also swore that those who were hurting him, would absolutely suffer the consequences.
“But he would survive?” Fusco pushed. “Right? There’s no way we’re getting down these stairs, across the street, and back up the stairs before they shoot him.”
John glared at the detective. “Yes, a Vampire will survive a head shot. But it’s Harold! His brain is everything he is. It wouldn’t be about Feeding and getting up the next morning. It could take weeks to be fully functional, and maybe months to get all of the physical and psychological ramifications worked out. Physiotherapy. Functionality. How well you think Finch is going to handle that? You don’t know what he’s endured already.”
“He’s not gonna get through that well,” Lionel had to admit. “So now what?” He gestured rudely at the lead thug holding a gun to Harold’s head, demanding the information he needed.
“We help Harold heal,” Carter stated simply. “It’s all we can do…” She paused when John ran toward the stairs. “You won’t make it!”
John slipped off his outer coat, dumped his gun, phone and anything that was excessive weight.
Then he looked across the rooftop…
‘How did you do it?’ he asked Nicolaus, as they walked Central Park.
‘That jump.’ John glanced sideways at his Clan Leader.
It had been just over six months since he’d been Turned, and discovered at least some of the slightly more outrageous truth about Harold Finch. Six months since the two had Mated. Six months of learning, changing, adapting to his new way of life.
Michael had told them about Clans and the whole Vampire social system. Harold had glared at The Machine for a very long time, growling darkly at Jarvis for not mentioning a few things.
John did point out that Harold had failed to mention the Vampire thing for two years.
Mr. Finch ignored him.
They had expected an invitation to New Orleans, that they might finally meet their Clan Leader.
They hadn’t expected Aiden Pierce.
It had been a typical day, with Reese trying to save their latest number, only to discover he wasn’t a victim but a perpetrator, wanted in New Orleans for a half-dozen major crimes. He had contacted Carter and was just ready to take the guy down, when a man in a dark brown leather coat, wearing a baseball cap and a bandana, showed up out of nowhere and took the perp out instead.
Carter, gun raised, yelled at their new mystery man to freeze.
Whereupon Reese watched in fear and amazement as the guy calmly lifted his arms, a cell phone in one hand. With a swipe of his thumb across the screen, the entire city block went black.
And he was gone.
Reese gave chase.
But he didn’t have Finch in his ear telling him where to go.
Instead he ran through alleys, up the sides of buildings, and then across rooftops.
All on instinct.
The Vampire skills he had been starting to learn, kicking in without pause.
He almost had the man, until his target jumped across a section of buildings that were situated far too far apart for Reese to tackle. Which pissed him off. But not as much as when the guy turned to give him a cheeky wave before he ran off again.
On returning the library, he found Harold sitting at his desk wide-eyed, while the man in the dark brown coat played contentedly with Bear.
Before he could demand some answers, the mystery dude simply stood up, smiled warmly and introduced himself as Nicolaus Valerius Meridius.
Mr. Finch wanted to know how Nico had accessed The Machine to facilitate his escape.
Mr. Reese wanted to know how the hell anyone could have jumped that gap.
Only one of them got their answer.
‘Shut off your brain,’ Nico informed him easily. ‘You’re already learning how to surpass your human limitations. But then you’ve been trained to surpass most of your human limitations some time ago already. Now you just need to take those few steps further. Surpass every other instinct that screams in your mind to stop.’
‘It’s one thing to surpass limitations. It’s another to fly!’ John pointed out. ‘That was a street, not an alley.’
‘Would it help if I told you that I know men who did such things while they were still human?’
Nico laughed openly. ‘You can do it, Mr. Reese. The catch? You have to believe you can.’
John Reese closed his eyes, and took a deep breath.
He cleared his mind of all doubts.
He thought only of his Mate.
Harold needed him.
His eyes snapped open.
He was calm.
One foot in front of the other.
He picked up speed.
Did what his instincts said were impossible.
As his foot hit the edge of the building, he pushed himself off into thin air, the only thought in his head being but a single line of blunt admittance.
‘What the actual fuck am I doing here?’
Harold knew perfectly well he should’ve listened to Mr. Reese. His Mate was, after all, the one who spent his time mostly in the field, fully trained for covert operations.
But the chance to do good had presented itself, and Harold was not really one to miss those particular opportunities. Not anymore.
And he’d almost made it.
Until he’d gotten caught in the lobby.
As the Russians dragged him into the parking garage, demanding to know what he’d done, he knew he was in serious trouble.
When they’d discovered their money gone, the beatings began.
He blinked back the distress, focusing instead on the sound of John’s voice in his ear, telling him he was on his way and everything would be fine
Always calm, his Mate, yet always deadly.
There was a tiny section of his brain that took great joy in imagining just what Mr. Reese would do to his assailants. For he already knew that John was protective. He had been that way even before they were Mated.
But when their Bond had formed, he’d taken ‘protective’ and turned it into plain and simple viciousness.
Harold lost track of where they were at, and so it came as a surprise when he somehow ended up on the roof of the building across from the charity and its main offices.
It was almost as though…
He looked around, trying to figure out why they would drag him to such a place. There was no reason to put a bullet in his brain on the roof. They might as well have done it in the parking garage, and gotten it over with.
Unless someone wanted a front row seat.
Or wanted John to have a front row seat.
Harold’s body ached. His neck and shoulders were tight, the muscles locked solid. He had held up his hands for so long, he couldn’t be sure if he’d ever get to put them down of his own volition.
He could hear Carter and Fusco arguing with John, telling him there was nothing he could do.
And they were right.
John would not be able to get to him in time.
Death didn’t scare him.
He’d faced off with it once already.
And he knew no matter the injury, his Mate would take care of him. He understood, after all those years in ignorance of certain truths, just what having a Mate truly meant, for the dedication and loyalty they showed to each other, utterly amazed him. They were complete, only when they were together.
He hoped John knew just how very thoroughly he would destroy governments for him if it ever proved necessary. He might not wield a gun, but he could still shred lives, topple the powerful, crush the otherwise impervious fools who got in his Mate’s way…
Harold frowned when the gun that had been pointed at his head, wavered in front of him, and he looked at the lead goon, whose mouth was slack, and whose eyes were suddenly wide with shock.
Finch turned around to see what the whole lot of them were staring at.
And in that instant, everything Warrick had told him made perfect sense.
He knew John Reese would kill anyone who might see fit to hurt him. There could be no doubting what his Mate was capable of; he had read his CIA File, hand-picking him for work with The Machine because it had been the right thing to do.
He had even seen it once before, when he’d been kidnapped by that crazy woman who thought The Machine was God – back before Mr. Reese had been Turned.
But then there was…?
There was the Meridius in John’s blood.
‘You have to understand what it’s like being Mated to a Meridius.’ Warrick had kidnapped Finch from the library, while Nico and Reese strolled Central Park with Bear.
The two sat at one of those up-scale bars in a non-descript high rise, drinking an expensive bottle of wine, and eating hundred dollar steaks.
‘The Meridii are stubborn, Mr. Finch. To a fault. They know it too. They know they can be stubborn in the worst possible moments. Doesn’t stop them.’
‘…is loyal.’ Warrick sipped his wine, giving Finch time to adjust to everything. ‘But once he fully embraces the Meridius inside him? He won’t stop.’
‘I’m not sure I understand how it’s different.’
‘I’m sure your Mr. Reese will leave freely carnage behind him in order to find you. He would shoot out knee caps, maybe even put a few bullets into the heads of your enemies.’
Finch only nodded.
‘But the Meridii will burn cities to the ground. They will not stop. Ever. No feat too extreme. No situation too impossible. They will do whatever they need to. Kill whoever they have to. Hunt to the ends of the earth and beyond for the ones they love.’
Warrick studied him for a moment before speaking again.
‘Ever hear of a small village in England, called Hengehurst?’
‘No.’ Finch wasn’t exactly familiar with the geography of England, but he could easily do a quick search on his phone, and noticed the Pirate wait patiently for him to do that very thing.
With quick, subtle gestures, he scanned files, Google, documents, maps.
‘Pre-digitization,’ he concluded.
‘You didn’t find anything,’ Warrick smirked, ‘because there’s nothing to find. Nico razed it to the ground. Once upon a time, he met Warren there, his Mate. The town turned against them both. They dragged Warren out into the square and burned him at the stake for ‘witchcraft’, or ‘sodomy’. Who knows? They’d been riled into mob mentality by then.’
‘What happened?’ Harold’s eyes went wide at hearing the tale.
‘He killed every man, woman, child and dog,’ Warrick answered, sipping his wine a little more. ‘Then burned the town. Nothing remained. Nothing remains even now but a bad memory, and a nasty stench.’ He set his glass down on the dining table, and leaned closer to Finch. ‘Don’t think for a second, that your Mr. Reese won’t burn New York to the ground, and walk through the flames to find you.’
‘But you came back.’
Warrick smiled. ‘Yeah I came back.’
It wasn’t as dramatic as the city in flames, but the sight before him settled exactly what Mr. Calhoun had stated.
Mr. Reese landed on the roof, having jumped – or maybe flown was a better word – from the building opposite.
At least eight floor up.
The subsequent impact was hard as he went down on one knee, rolling with the momentum, only to stand and keep moving toward his goal.
The first thug pulled a gun.
Reese grabbed his wrist, snapped it, took the gun from his loosened fingers, put a bullet into the guy’s knee. Without pause he moved to the left, tapping both knees of the second thug, before dropping the gun, stepping to the side and sliding past the third. John’s elbow slammed into the man’s side as he reached under the third gunman’s coat and pulled another gun, shooting out the kneecaps of gunmen four and five, before knocking the third out flat.
He hit his own knees, bending backwards, grabbing another gun that had dropped from goon number five, before shifting back up and taking out six and seven.
With an ease and grace that Harold could only envy, John was on his feet again and striding with determined purpose straight for him.
The leader of the Russian thugs aimed his weapon, only to end up with a bullet between the eyes.
Mr. Reese dropped the guns, tossing them away like they were nothing but cheap, second rate tools, before coming to halt in front of his Mate. “Harold?”
“John.” Finch stared at the carnage around him, and then back at the opposite building. “You know, that really shouldn’t have been as hot as it was.”
John chuckled lightly. “Well, it wasn’t as easy as I made it look,” he deadpanned, pulling his Mate closer to him, soothing his arms back down, knowing they were stiff and sore. “Can you walk?”
“I don’t think so.” He hated to admit a weakness but his spine was burning, and his hip unsteady.
Without hesitating, Reese scooped Harold up into his arms. “Let’s go home.”
The roof access door banged open to the sight of Carter and Fusco, red-faced, panting and sweating like they’d just done a Marathon.
“What the fuck was that?” Lionel yelled at him.
“Not now, Fusco.” John ignored both detectives, making his way to the open door. “We’ll both need to Feed once we get secured.”
“Are you injured, Mr. Reese?” Finch asked, horrified that he was being carried, yet grateful for it all the same.
“I’m fine, Mr. Finch.”
‘Also watch out for the ‘I’m Fine’ routine,’ Warrick warned. ‘A Meridius could have an arm missing and they’d still tell you they’re fine.’
“I’m quite sure you’re lying to me, Mr. Reese.”
John shifted Harold in his arms slightly, taking the pressure off his broken ribs. It was a very good thing he didn’t have to breathe. The fracture to his leg was more of a problem though. It wasn’t severe enough to cause him stress, but he felt it all the same, and figured once he got chance to Feed it would be strong again. He wasn’t the one who’d been beaten half to death after all.
“Next time, you’ll listen when I say to get out.” Reese gave him a warm smile as they headed down the stairs, and out the exit to the top floor, moving easily to the elevators. “Tell me the car is in the garage?”
“The two buildings are connected,” Carter stated, covering the two of them. “We were able to get across that way. The Russians were kind enough to leave their SUV for our personal needs.”
“How did you do that?” Harold asked quietly, content to be in his Mate’s embrace. He’d make sure to check John over later and tend to his wounds in person.
“That jump.” He gave him a look which suggested categorically, he wouldn’t tolerate being lied to.
“I would do anything for you, Harold.” John’s blue eyes flashed with determination and love. “Even leap tall buildings in a single bound.”
“Or burn them?”
“If I have to.”
In time he got Finch settled in their vehicle, sliding into the backseat with him, holding his Mate close against him.
The two detectives got into the front seats, both staring at each other with wide eyes. They had always pretty well known what their friends were capable of doing for each other. But they figured it was actually way more than either of them yet knew.
God help the world if anyone deliberately went after them.
Elias stood on the far rooftop of the third building nearby, watching the proceedings.
He was the one who’d tipped off the Russian Mob that Harold was not really an IRS agent. Oh, he liked the man sure enough, and didn’t want to see harm come to him. The little guy helped people, saw there was good in the world and tried to save it from itself. That was a highly commendable enterprise to engage in.
But the Russian Mob had started to get annoying, and Elias knew exactly what Mr. Reese would do to them if they harmed Mr. Finch.
He wasn’t disappointed.
What he hadn’t expected was the superhuman strength John had so willingly, and so dramatically showcased.
That was new.
But there was nothing he couldn’t find information on in New York.
He just had to ask the right questions…