Bully

"Sire, I felt you arrive. What brings you to Paris?" His loyal one asked him as she knelt down on one knee in the upscale boutique, as Vlad sat in a chair flipping through a book with pictures of dresses in them.

He gave no response. Simply continued to flip, faster and faster. Until...

"I have heard tale of a man. A man who is said to be a great creator, and the one I believe I currently must seek. This is his name." He handed her a folded piece of paper. "Since I cannot find what I want in these books, have him make it for me. Tell him, he has six hours to be done and the measurements are on the paper. If he is human and his body can't work that fast, give him a drop of blood in order to compensate for the frailty...or suck him dry, take his memories, and then get someone to make it...or...do you know a better and more capable designer? You know what, just get it done however you will. You know my standards. Go."

Afterward, Vlad sat on his own once again. Contemplating his next move. He had a lot of work ahead. While most of it would be handled by Thing and Katherine, it would be up to him to give the final nod of approval. It all rested on him. Heavy is the head.

Vlad swept his fingers in a grabbing motion, as a cup filled with a red liquid appeared in his grasp, from which, he took a sip.

'Hmmm, based on what I've gathered, the dance has been organized by the normie insect "educator". While she has proven to be quite resourceful based on what I've gathered from the walkthrough of her mind, I have no doubt that she will not put her best demented foot forward when it comes to putting on a spook-tacular event. No doubt in her attempt to appear sweet and caring, she will neglect her main duty, which is to put forth a night for his Wednesday to remember. The steps I've given Thing to enact should provide a far better playground. That simply leaves the outfit, which has also been handled. Now, all that is left is providing a look for myself. It has been far too long since I've had a well tailored fit on this body of mine. In hindsight, I probably did not seek out proper form fitting attire in order to make certain the masses did not collapse from the sight like a well executed haki bomb. I'm such a good person. However, those bastards can now die, because it is time to suit up.'

Vlad downed the drink in one motion and stood from his seat.

Only to stop.

He did not know where to go...or did he.

In this life, he had not heard of them. Anything he wore looked good on his body, so he truthfully had not given his attire more thought than, that's a good fit.

However, in the past, he knew of a place. A place where only the truly elegant would set foot. A place that did not call to him then, due to him not only being a young man, but also because, once again, he did not need to dress up, though he did tell himself that if he ever wanted a great fit, its where he would go.

Vlad's body was engulfed in shadows and darkness, only for him to appear miles away in London. Standing on a street, looking up at the post that said "Savile Row". He would have to make proper arrangements. He ran his hand over his hair. People were definitely dying tonight.

As he was about to take a walk down the street, he began to channel his best Toby Maguire. Only he truly knew the feeling of what it takes to pull off a proper strut. Only to stop himself before his foot could even leave the ground or he could point his fingers. Even if he currently could not be seen...some things just should not be done.

Vlad had to take a moment for himself. Introspecting. He could not help but feel that he, The Impaler, might have fallen a bit too far after he had awoken. Even in his first life he had never allowed himself to fall into the bully maguire. His self-esteem would not allow it, no matter how much he enjoyed indulging in proper culture, some things just went too far.

Vlad looked at his hand in wonder.

He hadn't noticed it before, but it explained a lot.

He felt lighter. Happier. Secure.

In his first life, when the most danger he had to face was those of his own choosing, he never truly felt secure. He always knew he was human. Mortal. Weak to so many aspects of his existence. He could fight, very well. He kicked ass all through his childhood. He was trained for it. Which is how he came to learn that no matter how strong he became, there were limits that he simply could not break. It left him with a hollow, empty feeling.

In his second go at life, before he acquired his memories, he was at first mortal. Still kicked a lot of ass, and still felt weak at times. However, he was also greatly unchallenged by anything that he could not handle. There were no governments that could take his freedoms. No assholes that could throw out a petty lawsuit. No fucking taxes that required him to bend over and spread them. There was nothing that stood above him. Not even his own father, really. While his dad was king, he had outgrown him quite early on. His prowess was simply unmatched and the world was in his hands. Then, he was shown how incorrect his hubris had been. He and his father were chained. His mother killed. And his confidence shattered...however he still felt strong.

Then, the change happened.

He became what he was always meant to be and what they made him, while bringing his father along with him.

What was once unchallenged, became undisputed.

His strength seemed to know no end and his will could not be suppressed.

He swept the world, reveling in his superiority, impaling the asshats who showed him his weakness right after their families, friends, and anyone who would seek revenge was hoisted on pikes.

There were none who could compare and there was nothing he could not do...however he did not feel free.

He carried a weight that could not be shed.

A ghost of the past that haunted his back.

His superiority.

He had been shown how weak he was and no matter how invincible he became, just like a former "unattractive" who became "attractive", one could never shake that feeling. That ghost in the mirror that they would see in the corner of their eye. That ghost of their past self. Insecurity.

He did not realize it, because he did not recognize it.

No matter how refined his time was as a Prince, the level of self-awareness and mental wellness, could not be compared to that which his first life provided.

Everybody walked around talking about how "woke" they were to every single fucking thing, that no matter whether one took an interest or not, they had no choice but to acquire a contact high every now and then, and he was no different. Not only that, but he also had an interest in psychology, so he was pretty fucked with the self-behavioral analysis either way. Am I being offensive? Insensitive? What motivated me to do xyz?

It was because of this, humility, that he was able to recognize, in his first life, where the feeling of hollowness in his stomach came from. His longing to be something more. A longing that he had forgotten.

After his merging, he did not recognize the feeling of fulfillment that he had acquired in the depths of his very soul. Wednesday had his full attention, and as a Prince, introspection was not really his thing and despite his mind flowing smoothly with the memories of his first life, his sense of self was still driven by his time as a Prince. It was such a large presence that, despite his first life being quite nice, could not compare to the vast quantity of Majesty that was Vlad The Impaler. The Dark One.

Now, now that he had almost disgraced himself in such a way, he could not help but recognize that his soul was light. Full. There was no hollow insecurity. No shadow in the corner of eye. No weight on his back.

He was...jovial.

He needed to get his shit in order and he understood immediately what had to be done.

The only question was...could he do it?

Of course he could, so he did.

Vlad raised his hands, waist high, and pointed his finger guns at a woman walking down the street of Savile Row, as he began to Bully his way forward.

He had no choice.

Something needed to be done.

He had lost his sense of humility. His sense of self that was tightly tied to his humanity.

Why else would he simply disregard those who had served him faithfully and yet had been manipulated and killed by spectral piss-ants, that cannot stand in his presence without hiding their cowardly faces. Why would he leave it to his loyal one to handle alone, even if he did give her the ability to touch the spectral plane and extinguish those parasitic pale imitations of their betters in ghostbusters. He could have handled the situation and been done with it long ago, while taking revenge with his own hand. Personally, like it should be. However, even though it hurt, it was like the pain had simply washed off of him like rain on a waterproof coat. His rightful superiority complex coupled with his lack of humility, had allowed him to throw his sense of responsibility away like a pair of dirty old socks. Looking at himself in that light, he could not help but feel a slight sense of...shame.

He had seen Gilgamesh lose himself in pride and hubris and yet, despite liking the character in a major way, he never once wanted to fall into that trap himself.

He wanted to be inevitable, but never an asshole.

The longer he walked and got his bully on, the more he felt his humanity returning in droves.

It was incredible.

Exhilarating even.

It was one thing to be Majestic.

However, it was a completely different kind of experience to be Majestic, while also being able to look within oneself in order to truly be able to recognize the why and how of who you are, in a way that was not simply superficial. He could feel himself becoming deep.

No matter how much one believes they know. There is always room to grow.

'This pain. This sense of responsibility. This desire to make a change in the world for the better...that part is not needed. A true Monarch does not simply serve themselves. They also must serve those who serve them. I had forgotten that. It looks like I will be taking a vacation from attending to my education. I need to know the who, the why, and the how. Spirits should never have been capable of influencing my people in such a way and yet...I have work to do. Once again bully maguire, you have led a man down a better path and helped him realize how far he had fallen. Truly a worthy strut.'

Vlad ended his walk in front of a building.

Based on the minds he had scanned throughout the area looking for this specific piece of information, this building housed the best tailor in the land.

What? He may have come to a realization and decided to handle his business, but they were already dead. They did not require him to rush.

The living, or half-living, required his attention.

At least for one more night.

Slaughtering can come after.

'Priorities,' he thought with a smile filled with pride on his face. He truly was a good person.

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(Author note: Additional chapters are up on Patreon.com/TheGreatestHunter check it out. Also, I am thinking I might start posting videos on there of me writing my stories and my writing process. I thought that may be a cool thing to do and a great way to allow people to see something that only the luckiest of individuals have been able to confess to being graced with, my beautiful self. Tell me what you think of the idea...on second thought, don't. I just said that because it seemed like the thing people say when they present others with a new idea. We all know I am just going to do what I want in the end anyway. Though, it would be a good way for you all to talk amongst yourselves. Therefore, tell each other what you think of the idea.)