Luke obeyed, moving with that same remarkable efficiency to scoop up the fallen weapons and return them to their owner. He didn’t break the occular bond they’d forged; he didn’t even blink. With his task accomplished, he returned to the exact spot he’d been standing in, rigid as a toy soldier.
As Jake deepened his hold on Luke’s haphazard mind, there was no visible effect. He would find it even more simple than usual to do so, as if someone had pre-conditioned the poor man for exactly this sort of intrusion.
For all his scorn, whoever had ravaged Luke’s mind and then locked it up had been undeniably effective. Brutal? Maybe. Crude? Certainly. But the results were likely impressive. Even with his command over the minds of mortals, Jake would find his initial attempts challenged. The vault remained as inert as Luke for five seconds, ten… and then finally, it cracked. The fissure was so thin that someone with less expertise might not even have noticed it.
Several things happened at once. Jake would suddenly find himself treated to a slideshow of horrors. He would feel as if he were secured to a cold mental table by implacable restraints while a team of hazy figures in surgical caps, masks, and scrubs loomed over him. He would feel incisions- skin parting, then fat, then muscle. He would feel himself shake and rage ineffectually, unable to free himself. The scene transformed rapidly. Now he was running, and he felt powerful. The familiar predatory sensation of a hunt would stir. He was chasing someone through a dark, formless building - maybe a warehouse? He was gaining on them, and he wanted nothing more than to rip what passed for life from their body. Another jump-cut. They were happening faster now. A woman’s face, and then a man’s, neither of which the Ventrue would recognize. He would see a mirror, but the reflection showed Luke, scratching at his gray, monstrous arm while he inspected it.
The torrent of sensory data would wash over Jake in an instant, and it would be as if he’d experienced all of it. His attention would likely be diverted by the sound of Luke screaming, though.
The instant Jake had broached the vault, Luke’s voice peeled, blood-curdling, bouncing off the walls that enclosed the bus depot. He sounded like he was being murdered, no, worse than that. Jake would feel the broken mind spasm, and judging by the scent from the blood that was now trickling from Luke’s nose, he might surmise that his prey’s brain was suffering similar effects.
His eyes remained locked on Jake’s even as they widened, dilated, and filled with tears. His lips and tongue moved, struggling to accede to the last demand he’d heard.
“L--- Luuoo--- Luke,” he managed to get out, the word garbled and distorted. With that obligation discharged, he crumpled to the ground in a heap. Simultaneously, the stream of frenzied memory cut out. Jake would feel Luke’s mind fading into darkness, too ephemeral to hold onto at all. His eyes remained open but wholly unresponsive. The lights were off, and nobody was home.
