Elsewhere…
Taskmaster's training room was alive with the sounds of simulated combat. Combat drones mimicking super soldiers, meta-humans, even enhanced mystics attacked in formation. Blades clashed, energy bolts lit up the room, and Taskmaster moved through it all like a machine.
But his strikes were sharper now. Faster. Angrier.
Every time a drone's face flickered to Michael's mist-covered form, Taskmaster struck harder.
"Computer," he barked between strikes.
"Add in variables. Mist control, anti-psychic defense, all kinds of powers — simulate that son of a bitch."
[Warning: No complete data on subject. Projected simulations may be inaccurate.]
"I don't care!" Taskmaster snarled, smashing a shield-bearing drone in half.
"Give me something. I'm not letting this freak stay ahead of me."
But no amount of simulations could prepare him for what Michael was becoming.
Because while Taskmaster trained to beat the man he thought Michael was…
Michael had already moved three steps beyond that.
And tonight, the hunter would become the hunted.
****
Back to Michael.
He was sitting at the kitchen table in his apartment, quietly eating dinner — some leftover stir-fry and rice — while the Darkhold sat casually on the table beside his plate, its sinister cover catching the dim light. The ancient book didn't belong in a place like this, next to half-eaten food and a TV, but here it was.
Michael could read it easily now — as if another set of eyes were behind his, guiding him. The White Devil symbiote made it simple, effortlessly breaking down the twisted language and ancient runes of the Darkhold, letting him understand it without the usual mind-crushing madness the book was known for.
"There are some spells here," he murmured to himself as he flipped through the pages, his eyes scanning over cursed incantations and dark rites.
Most of them were basic — things that could scare people or mess with weak minds. But then there were others. Darker spells. Ones that could tear a man apart or snuff out a roomful of people in seconds. High-level offensive magic, the kind that made even experienced sorcerers hesitate.
Michael smiled as he continued to read it.
"Guess it's not just for show."
As the night deepened, Michael stretched, closing the book with a soft snap.
"Hmph… I'll check out the rest later. I already got what I came for anyway."
He glanced down at the page he'd memorized — an ancient vampiric spell, fully deciphered and now sitting comfortably in his head. He could sense it, like a loaded weapon waiting to be fired.
"Time to visit Cami," he muttered with a grin, raising his hand as the mist thickened around him.
A twisting portal formed in the air, its edges shimmering with dark crimson light — a gateway to the Vampire Diaries world. Without a second thought, Michael stepped through, vanishing from his room… and reappearing in his familiar space here in Mystic Falls.
As he opened his eyes, the room was dim, quiet, carrying the faint scent of the night breeze through an open window. His gaze landed on the bed — and there she was.
Camille.
Asleep.
Her face soft in the low light, strands of hair falling gently over her cheek. She looked peaceful… and so heartbreakingly beautiful.
He moved closer, kneeling beside the bed, brushing a lock of hair from her face with a tenderness that surprised even him.
"How are you?" he whispered, even though she wouldn't hear it.
He knew time had passed differently for her. While for her it had not even an second, for him a whole year have passed.
"World-hopping sure is exhausting," he muttered under his breath, leaning his forehead against her hand for a moment, letting himself feel the warmth of her skin.
She stirred slightly, murmuring something unintelligible in her sleep, before settling again.
Michael smiled faintly.
"I missed you too, Cami."
He slipped onto the bed beside her, careful not to wake her, his arm wrapping around her waist as sleep finally came for him too.
Camille in sleep also leaned towards him as he smiled and fell asleep fully.
The soft glow of morning light crept in through the curtains as Michael stirred from where he sat on the edge of the bed. He glanced over at Camille, still fast asleep, her face peaceful and unguarded in a way few ever got to see.
A small smile tugged at his lips.
"Didn't think I'd miss this," he muttered under his breath.
Carefully, so he wouldn't wake her, Michael slipped from the bed and moved to the kitchen. He wasn't much of a chef, but he could handle breakfast — and after hopping worlds and everything else, it felt… grounding.
Eggs. Toast. Bacon. Simple, but it would make her smile.
Once it was done, he set the plate down and grabbed a scrap of paper, scribbling a quick note:
"I cooked for you. Went to Grill's — helping out there now, kinda took over as bartender. See you later, beautiful."
He added a stupid little wink emoji at the end, because he knew it would make her roll her eyes and smile.
Before leaving, Michael lingered by the bed one last time. He brushed a loose strand of hair from Camille's face, careful not to wake her.
"See you soon, Cam."
Then he opened the door, slipping quietly out into the cool morning air of Mystic Falls, heading toward the Grill.
Soon, Michael arrived at the familiar spot — the Mystic Grill. He stood outside for a second, chuckling to himself.
"Hah… to think, a multi-millionaire like me working at a bar for some pocket change," he muttered, shaking his head with a smirk.
Pushing the door open, the soft clatter of glasses and low hum of morning conversation greeted him. Behind the counter, Matt looked up and grinned.
"Oh, you're here," Matt called, wiping his hands on a rag.
Michael gave him a lazy nod, remembering how, just a couple of days ago(for Matt) and a year (for him), he'd asked Matt if there was a spot open. The guy had agreed, no questions asked — though clearly still not sure what to make of him.
"Though I gotta admit," Matt added, leaning on the counter, "I'm not sure if wizards like you really need a job at a bar. You could, y'know… snap your fingers and make cash appear."
He laughed a little at his own words.
Michael just smirked, walking over and grabbing an apron from behind the bar.
"Yeah, I could. But where's the fun in that?" he said, slinging the apron over his shoulder. "Besides, makes things feel normal. Haven't had that in a while."
*******
Its just two chaps or three chaps at most, this trip to Vampire Diaries
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