Hellmouth #5
"Saving Face, Part 1"
In the Atrium complex in downtown Cleveland, you'll find that the top six floors are owned by a very infamous law firm, known as the Cleveland Chapter of Wolfram and Hart. They don't nearly have the power that certain other divisions have, but they provide services to those who may be. affected. by the Cleveland Hellmouth. At this very moment, however, it is playing host to six gentlemen sitting at a rectangular table, two at each side and one at each head. The conference room holds no windows for. distinct. reasons. One man, and he is, in fact, human, begins the meeting of the six in question. "Okay folks, thanks for meeting with us tonight. I know this was rather short notice but we have a few things we have to work through for the moment and we'll try to get out of here as fast as we can," Jacob Manning has always been rather jovial in terms of running these meetings, normally walking a tight rope in making sure that all parties are taken care of properly.
"Why the hell do we have to meet here anyways?" asked Brother, an awkward looking gentleman sitting on one of the four side spots on the table.
"Well, Mr. Brother, Wolfram and Hart is one of the few places that caters to our. present company," Manning replied. He looked from side to side and knew he had placed his words correctly, especially since his present company happened to be four vampires and a very large Aerimaligantic demon.
"Brother's right, man," Marquez began, annoyed at his surroundings, "I mean, this Cleveland subchapter crap aint cuttin it."
"Indeed. Doesn't Wolfram and Hart realize that this is the new Hellmouth?" Brother exclaimed.
"Sunnydale didn't have a Wolfram and Hart chapter either, idiot." an annoyed Yossarian drawled.
"Yeah, but at least L.A. does, so that's close enough," Marquez defended.
"Let's not even bring up L.A., friends. Did you hear that it's being run by a vampire now?" Manning had a hint of disgust in his voice.
"Bout damn time!" Marquez announced, ready to jump the human for even alluding to the fact that vampires may not be good at running the firm.
"No, it's a vampire with a soul." All six cringed, disturbed by the simple idea of it.
"Absolutely repulsive." Yossarian broke the silence.
"We'll meet somewhere else next time, all agreed?" It was unanimous. Manning continued, " Okay, well, first order of business, I would like to personally congratulate Yossarian of the North for his assistance in reducing the over-crowded prison up there. I have gotten word back from my contacts with the mayor that the prison met regulation, everything has been covered up successfully, and he wont have to raise taxes next quarter to cover the cost of extending on to the prison."
"No, thank you, Mr. Manning, we made a good meal out of it and the Kriegal demons were more than happy to dispose of the corpses for us," Yossarian remained cordial, but never once adding emotion to his speech at all.
"Yes. The problem we have now is that we are having a similar problem at the First Methodist Orphanage. We have too many kids coming in and because they aren't infants, many families wont pick them up. Neither myself nor my contacts with the mayor or the governor want them to grow out of the orphanage and clutter up the streets. Some proper and low-key disposal is in great need," Manning continued delegating.
In a large growling tone, Wyvern, the Aerimaligantic head of N.C.M.S.D. (National Coalition of Multifarious and Sophisticated Demons) stood his large, gray frame fully upright, stretched his arms and large, gargoyle-esque wings, and sat back down, his specie's method of calling attention to oneself. "Need I remind you all that the Coalition treaty of 99 specifies that we are allowed one grand, annual feast on humans, and considering that younger human flesh is more tender, I offer suggestions that this be the feast in question," the creature boomed.
"Indeed, that sounds good. Brother of the East, since the orphanage is in your quadrant, he will need your assistance in leading the children out of there. I don't necessarily care how you do it, just make sure that it's out of the news and that everything is cost efficient, okay?" Brother nodded.
"Excellent. Moving right along; Fabini of the West, congratulations on a hard fought but well done defense of the southwest slums by that Truluk demon. Any word on how it came back from extinction?"
Fabini, sitting next to Brother on the side of the table, leaned forward in his chair and, seemingly exhausted, clasped his hands together firmly. "Yes, it was a vampire named Docket who completed the rising ceremony."
"Docket? He was one of yours, correct?" Manning inquired.
"Did the Hunters take that weight off your shoulders too, Fabini?" Yossarian finally showed emotion in the form of a smile while Brother and Marquez laughed almost out loud. Fabini returned a dreadful look to his Northern equal, and looked back at the human representative: "Yes, Docket was one of mine but he has been taken care of. He is no longer a problem."
"Was there any great losses in that battle?" Manning asked in a purely business-like manner. The smile returned to Yossarian's face as he leaned in for the reply. "Yes.," Fabini's speech slowed, ". the demon and her army were able to slay a few of my men."
"How many?" Manning was not intentionally pressing the issue.
"Six."
"Six? My initial reports state that there were seven casualties."
"Yes, well, a seventh was slain by the new leader of the Hunters." Fabini lowered both his head and his voice on the last reply, not even attempting eye contact with Yossarian, who opted to intercede on his own account: "You mean to tell me after fighting side by side your beloved compatriots, they added another to your losses? And you did nothing?" Yossarian was practically in tears by this time, as was his fellow board members.
"WHAT THE HELL KINDA CHOICE DID I HAVE?! THOSE WERE THE SOUTH-WEST SLUMS AND MARQUEZ DIDN'T EVEN ATTEMPT TO BACK ME UP!!!" Fabini was furious. He settled back into his chair and straightened his near-perfect suit.
"What was I gonna do? Jump in with the Hunters? Look, I had your back-up until you tried to do what you always do. You are the only one of us that tries to make a public face with the Hunters, and they treat you like slave-owners. I prefer to bite, kill, and maim whatever the hell I choose and I cant think of one reason I would wanna spend my time treading water so that I don't get jumped by a bunch of kids with knives and splinters." Marquez straightened himself similarly and settled into his leather chair.
"Yeah, man, plus you tend to tell them that all our territories are yours just to boost yourself up to them. It's pretty repulsive." Brother included. They aren't just kids. These kids are trained. Some of them have been doing this stuff for years and have intense knowledge on how to kill anything that isn't human, and I'm looking out for us by trying to keep them off of us."
"Still," Wyvern boomed, " One cannot survive on merely self- deprecation."
"See? Even Wings here agrees," Yossarian mocked, "And I think it's time we re-think you as the Western rep."
"Calm down, men," Manning stated, " We can discuss possible replacement at the next meeting. We have to get down to discussing arrangements for our bi-annual blood festival as well as representative entries. Fabini, are we to expect Mickey this year?"
"Not on my ticket. He'll be running as an independent. Returning champions can still enter at any point before the finale, correct?"
"Christ! You fall short on your Hunters deal and now you're taking Mickey off your ticket? You know, Manning, I know a vamp moving here out of Jersey who would make an excellent Western head." Yossarian continued the taunting.
"That will be enough, Yossarian. Yes, returning champions are free to defend at any time, especially one of Mickey's caliber. I shouldn't need to remind you how much this festival means to your chances of staying with us."
"Well aware, thanks. I'm just gonna need two open slots on my ticket to fit in what I have to prove. You all can ridicule as much as you like, but when this thing is over, the Hunters will be disbanded and I'll have them working for me." The board room stopped laughing.
Ten minutes before sunset, a group of young men and women sneak through a rare open field in the far western outskirts of Cleveland. The sun creeps beneath the treeline and everything becomes silent. The wind blows and cools the land, creating a noise not even as soft as the noise from the scurrying underneath the tall grass.
Near the center of the field, two young men prep themselves and talk jubilantly. "This is going to be great! I love these exercises!" Gene said.
"I'm glad you're happy," Lock groaned, obviously less jubilant, "because we are about to be jumped by people who know they can take us."
"They don't know jack. They may think they can beat us, but you don't learn from anything but experience, and you and I got that in spades."
"We may have been doing this longer, yes, but they have pointy weapons and crossbows."
"And we have Kevlar vests on. Why do you always do this?"
"Do what?"
"Start whining every time we do this?"
"Same reason I vomit before every hunt. I talk big and fight big, but I've got nerves of cardboard."
"Well you better have balls of steel because these kids wanna take a piece outta the boss and prove something."
"What are they gonna prove? That my skin breaks?"
"That they can one-up you. That's all life is about my friend: Provin that you're better than the guy next to you."
"That's such an awful way to think."
"Yeah, well its effective. Then again, there aint no way you can take me and you still happen to make boss."
"What the hell does that mean? I made boss because I'm logical and don't think with whatever body part you use to carry your pride around!"
"Well, considering how large my ego is, I think we all know the answer to that question."
"Anyways."
"Yeah, anyways. One day, Lock, you and me, buddy. We gonna throw down. We'll see." Lock laughs and Gene smiles. They continue tightening and fitting their Kevlar vests.
Minutes have passed. The darkness is now coming through and the lasts signs of the sun are making their signs known before they depart through the trees and under the hills. The scurrying had stopped for a few moments and then became a full blown dash. Several of them, in fact. The grass parts as what seems to be a black blur blitzes through the brush.
"Okay Nick, m'boy," Lock began, "you tucked in tight enough?"
Nicholas leered at Lock from the chair he was tied to with a look that spoke volumes, most of which is quite unprintable, "Why do I have to be the bait?"
"Initiation, baby," Gene joked, "Then again, I did read this one magazine about a fraternity in Arkansas that had the most messed up hazing rituals. Funny, though, their people were tied to chairs too." Gene's famous evil smile formed on his face as Nick's eyes grew wider.
"Shaddup, Gene." Lock laughed, "that's for later. For now, we need someone to play victim so they have something to tell whether or not they were too fast or too slow in saving you."
"So you two play ass-kickin vamps and I play the guy who's supposed to get bit?"
"Bitten," Gene laughed.
"If they do their jobs correctly, then you wont get bit or bitten."
"Waitaminute," Nick began to worry, "their supposed to find you in a twenty-five mile wide field?"
"Well, technically, their supposed to find you. Don't worry, we wont bite hard and everything will go so quick." Gene was now merely amusing himself.
Lock noticed the sun completely set: "Don't worry, Nick. Gene chose the strike point this time, so we'll all be quiet and they'll find us in about."
Talking ceased. Fighting began. Fire was lit in a circle behind and around the two "vampires" and Lock was impressed that he hadn't even noticed his regulars, donning black, circling the area with gasoline. Jamie jumped in and delivered a strong punch but missed by a hair, effectively causing Lock to take a few steps back. Lock and Jamie shared a few punches while Antoine went directly in for Nicholas. Gene stepped in and cracked Antoine in the face with his elbow, doing his best impersonation of a vampire snarl and face. Antoine chuckled despite the pain in his jaw, leaving Gene in a position to take advantage of his lack of concentration. Mark stepped in and began defending Antoine with punches and side kicks, causing Gene to somersault away from his post. Lock was still having his hands full with Jamie. True, he thought, Jamie was just a TV and movie martial artist, but the man has trained for years and definitely knows what he is doing here. They jumped back and forth until Lock notice that of the eight normal regulars, minus Nicholas, only three were openly fighting them. Lock turned and caught Jamie with a lucky knee to the sternum, causing the fighter to tumble to the ground. Lock looked around, wondering exactly what is going on when four regulars popped out of their hiding places in the tall grass, crossbows extended. Gene fought back towards Nicholas, rampaging and flowing through both Antoine and Mark. They were both taken aback by how efficiently Gene was able to block every shot they took and return fire with his own series of gut shots and sweep kicks. The battle between them all looked poetic and choreographed, though Mark felt full well the effects of blows he didn't see coming.
Lock flipped several times through the air and sprinted away from the crossbow bolts. He thanked God for Kevlar as one bolt struck him in the side, but never reached his skin. Lock fell to the ground in mock-pain, knowing that he had to react like a vampire would if it was struck in the side. He reeled for a second put reached his feet and took haste, never allowing the four a chance to reload the bows and bring a second round off. Lock jumped directly in between them; some chose to actually attempt to reload, leaving them open for a swift beating, while the other, more experienced Hunters knew that the bows were a lost cause in close combat and dropped their weapons. They fought back rather efficiently, even though Lock was still trained well enough to keep the two downed Hunters unconscious while at the same time battling well against his other two adversaries. Gene looked on with admiration as he attempted to draw his battle against Antoine and Mark closer to Lock, hopefully allowing the two psuedo-vampires a chance to work together. Antoine saw this strategy a mile away and left Mark to himself while he attempted to free Nicholas. Gene panicked and hurried to his "hostage" cutting off Antoine as he was trying to untie his teammate. They began to knock each other back and forth until Mark joined in, at which time Gene began to realize that fighting the two of them was exhausting him. His eyes caught Lock's as Lock was fighting odds that were completely stacked against him. Lock jumped and weaved, attempting to fight off the two in front of him while also seeing Jamie raise from his quick nap. Lock closed his eyes for a moment, trying to catch his breath, and his eyes flashed open with new vigor.
Unfortunately for Lock, however, his newfound vigorous eyes also caught sight of twelve bright, pulsating flood lights that were apparently set up around them. Jamie did say he had a surprise for me tonight, Lock thought, noticing he could now longer see anything but shadows and silhouettes. Lock turned blindly around only to catch a bottle to the face and a "stake through the heart." Gene was exhausted. Mark and Antoine both have been around almost as long as he had, and they were both trained by him and knew all of his demeanors. Some exercise, Gene thought, none of these kids are learning a thing because they wouldn't know exactly how some random vampire fights and they know me up and down. Gene knew he had to end this immediately or else he was going to pass out. He simultaneously swept his leg across the ground at a very low angle, catching both Antoine and Mark by surprise. As they dropped to the ground, Gene was already on his feet and behind Nicholas, who was absolutely entranced with how cool they all looked fighting like this. His eyes grew wide as Gene erupted into a loud mock-vampire growl, exposing his very flat, human teeth, and went in for the neck bite. As Gene was going in for the "kill," he caught eye of Lock being smacked in the face with a holy water glass, keeling over and getting a stake to his Kevlar. This sight, though vulgar in every sense of the word, was absolutely beyond hilarious to Gene. He stopped before his game winning bite and burst into tears laughing. Lock rolled around on the ground, making sure the glass didn't crack his skull or leave shards of glass in it, and Gene put his head on Nick's shoulder laughing and crying at the same time, only blandly noticing Antoine lightly rubbing the tip of the wooden stake on the heart section of his Kevlar vest. Gene raised his hands in defeat and, after a few moments of sadistic laughter, made it to his feet and helped Lock up off the ground. "What in the hell was that all about?!" Lock screamed.
"You're supposed to be the vampire, right? And vampires burn to the touch of holy water, right? So I hit you with holy water." Jamie defended himself.
"Yeah, but vampires cant live without heads but you know well enough not to decapitate me, right?" This was Lock trying to calm himself.
"I don't see what the problem is. You say we can fire crossbow bolts at you and try to kick, punch, and stake you, as long as we don't do anything that might actually kill you. So what's wrong with holy water, as long as it kills vampires and not you, right?"
"He has a point, Lock," Gene said, tears of laughter subsiding, "Plus he brings out the actor in you man! I mean, you played the pain so genuine that I woulda sworn you were really hurt."
"Fine, everybody, twenty years from now when I finally say its okay to have this exercises again, you can no longer kill OR maim us, got it?" Lock brought them all in to give his famous critiques for the evening when Gene whispered over to him: "Lock, dude, where we expecting company tonight?"
The team of regulars looked forward out into the field and noticed a truck burrowing through the tall grass towards them. The team stood stoic until they realized that at the speed and angle the truck was headed, there was no way that it was going to stop. They broke in the middle and jumped to either side trying to move out of the way of the speeding vehicle. The truck stopped about twenty-five yards from the group, now reassembled. Out of the back could be seen a huge cage and about three vampires who jumped out and opened the cage. The beasts that flew out of it were ones that not even Lock or Gene had seen before, but both knew far too well they were: werewolves.
"Christ, Lock, we aint prepped for wolves now. Whatta we doin?" There was no trace of humor left in Gene's voice.
"Everybody, spread and take cover! DO NOT KILL them. You hear me?! These arent demons. They are infected humans. They cant help this right now. Antoine?" Lock turned to Antoine, who had already gotten the two shotguns, pre-loaded with tranquilizer darts out and into the hands of Lock and Gene. The pecking order in the groups is both simple and already decided. While Gene is the second in command for the entire group, he is the leader of the Axe Units and his Abbit Twins are the second in command for those same Axe Units. And while he has the Abbits, Lock has appointed Antoine as the second in command of the regulars, so he and Lock know each other back, forth, and sideways, as well as the types of weaponry that he keeps in the Regular Unit van. Gene shook his head in shame of how well trained Lock keeps his units and cocked his shotgun. This battle though chaotic, was rather short, as was intended by both sides. The werewolves attacked hard and fast on everyone, despite the fact that they were only four in number. Gene was able to tranq two and Lock picked off one, but while instructing everyone to focus on the vampires from the truck, Lock was struck down by the remaining werewolf. Nicholas ran in and grabbed Lock's shotgun and pelted the last wolf, rolling him over and off of Lock. Nicholas quickly asked if Lock was okay, and the captain grunted his pleasantries. Lock stumbled forward and caught his balance, just in time to witness three more vamps crawl out of the cab of the truck. Lock turned behind him to see if anyone else might have been injured in the attack, only to be hit by a second truck. He flew several feet and landed hard, severely injured and completely unconscious. Two vamps made their way out of the second cab and picked up Lock, carrying him over to their truck and pulling off.
Gene sprinted after the second, now moving truck and pulled out his trusty wood-tipped bullet sawed-off and pelted two shots, one shattering the back window and the other denting the backside. The battle was drawing to a close when the final vampire, coincidentally the original driver of the first truck began a last ditch sprint back to his vehicle. Gene sprinted forward just fast enough to take a firm, hard step, reload his sawed-off, and stick one well-placed wooden-tipped bullet through the back and heart of the vampiric sprinter.
Gene stood still for a moment, taking it all in. Three regulars, including Jamie, were severely injured and needed medical help. They never trained for freakin werewolves before, Gene thought, Hell! We never even had a werewolf around here that I've ever seen. Gene started to panic. His first thought was to ask Lock what to do, but that was the problem! He rushed over to the vampire's truck and looked inside. He pushed through all the junk, including a dead woman in the passenger side that they were apparently feeding on before they came there. Underneath the corpse was a work order, apparently the work order for the "shipment" they just delivered. Nicholas and Antoine slowly walked up to Gene, who was drastically distraught and shaking from everything. Gene stopped reading and grabbed the keys out of the trucks ignition, throwing them to Antoine.
"Antoine, get anyone who needs help to the hospital. I don't think Larson's patch jobs are gonna work for some of them. Make up something to tell the doctor. Backyard wrestling or something," Gene shook harder now that he was making things up on the spot.
"Gotcha, boss," Antoine replied, noticing a twitch at the sound of the word.
"What's that paper?" Nick asked.
"Work order. Said that these things were shipped here from . lets see. the W.C.H.S. the Western Cleveland Holding Supplier. The name on the shipment is Yo. Yoss. Yossarian? Yossarian of the North? Ah hell, gimmie your cell phone." Gene grabbed Nick's cell-phone and dialed back to the station house.
"Station house. Jules speaking."
"Jules, this is Gene. Listen closely and do everything I'm about to tell you."
"Is everything alright Gene?"
"Listen up! Get Larson down to the Baptist hospital. We have a few men on their way there now. Get the Abbits to organize the Axe Units down here to clean-up some werewolves down here. I want them caged until Sunday's over, cuz that's the last day that the full moon'll be out. And contact Ky and tell her to meet me at the station. We're going hunting tonight."
Hours pass. Lock wakes up and feels his head, still throbbing. He tries to remember, but cant. He remembers the exercises. He remembers the first truck. Oh yeah, he thinks. And the pain comes rushing back. His body cringes and aches all over, and he can barely remember his name through the maelstrom of emotions contacting every point in his body. The light of the full moon shines through the blinds of the window. He scrapes at the cracking substance on his forehead. Dried blood, he realizes. Practically covering his face. He tries to stand but his arms are weak and he cant really feel his legs through the pain. He groans and cries out, managing to turn his body around, trying to catch a look at where exactly he was. It looked like a wood cabin of sorts. The front door was right behind him, but he saw that it had been bolted shut from the outside. There were two windows in the cabin, but too small to fit a human or otherwise out of. The corner he was facing now had no windows. Just shadows. Lock could hear something in that corner though. Not breathing, per say, but something else entirely. More like a shuffling of sorts. Lock was appalled at the scenery of the cabin. It had posters of pop icons and large teddy bears of different sizes and colors. There was a small TV, old it seemed, and very much busted. There was an old radio in the window sill that was playing low-tone, elevator-music renditions of some popular modern day songs. And something was there, in the corner. Lock knew it. Something was in that corner and Lock felt its eyes all over him. Lock thought and thought, and could only come up with one solution; he thought of the one thing that anyone, Hunter, civilian, or horror-movie actress would do in this situation: "Hello?"
"Hi," came the reply from deep in the shadows in a voice that was deep and musky like a grown man's but held a sense of bewilderment like that of a child, "My name's Mickey."
"Saving Face, Part 1"
In the Atrium complex in downtown Cleveland, you'll find that the top six floors are owned by a very infamous law firm, known as the Cleveland Chapter of Wolfram and Hart. They don't nearly have the power that certain other divisions have, but they provide services to those who may be. affected. by the Cleveland Hellmouth. At this very moment, however, it is playing host to six gentlemen sitting at a rectangular table, two at each side and one at each head. The conference room holds no windows for. distinct. reasons. One man, and he is, in fact, human, begins the meeting of the six in question. "Okay folks, thanks for meeting with us tonight. I know this was rather short notice but we have a few things we have to work through for the moment and we'll try to get out of here as fast as we can," Jacob Manning has always been rather jovial in terms of running these meetings, normally walking a tight rope in making sure that all parties are taken care of properly.
"Why the hell do we have to meet here anyways?" asked Brother, an awkward looking gentleman sitting on one of the four side spots on the table.
"Well, Mr. Brother, Wolfram and Hart is one of the few places that caters to our. present company," Manning replied. He looked from side to side and knew he had placed his words correctly, especially since his present company happened to be four vampires and a very large Aerimaligantic demon.
"Brother's right, man," Marquez began, annoyed at his surroundings, "I mean, this Cleveland subchapter crap aint cuttin it."
"Indeed. Doesn't Wolfram and Hart realize that this is the new Hellmouth?" Brother exclaimed.
"Sunnydale didn't have a Wolfram and Hart chapter either, idiot." an annoyed Yossarian drawled.
"Yeah, but at least L.A. does, so that's close enough," Marquez defended.
"Let's not even bring up L.A., friends. Did you hear that it's being run by a vampire now?" Manning had a hint of disgust in his voice.
"Bout damn time!" Marquez announced, ready to jump the human for even alluding to the fact that vampires may not be good at running the firm.
"No, it's a vampire with a soul." All six cringed, disturbed by the simple idea of it.
"Absolutely repulsive." Yossarian broke the silence.
"We'll meet somewhere else next time, all agreed?" It was unanimous. Manning continued, " Okay, well, first order of business, I would like to personally congratulate Yossarian of the North for his assistance in reducing the over-crowded prison up there. I have gotten word back from my contacts with the mayor that the prison met regulation, everything has been covered up successfully, and he wont have to raise taxes next quarter to cover the cost of extending on to the prison."
"No, thank you, Mr. Manning, we made a good meal out of it and the Kriegal demons were more than happy to dispose of the corpses for us," Yossarian remained cordial, but never once adding emotion to his speech at all.
"Yes. The problem we have now is that we are having a similar problem at the First Methodist Orphanage. We have too many kids coming in and because they aren't infants, many families wont pick them up. Neither myself nor my contacts with the mayor or the governor want them to grow out of the orphanage and clutter up the streets. Some proper and low-key disposal is in great need," Manning continued delegating.
In a large growling tone, Wyvern, the Aerimaligantic head of N.C.M.S.D. (National Coalition of Multifarious and Sophisticated Demons) stood his large, gray frame fully upright, stretched his arms and large, gargoyle-esque wings, and sat back down, his specie's method of calling attention to oneself. "Need I remind you all that the Coalition treaty of 99 specifies that we are allowed one grand, annual feast on humans, and considering that younger human flesh is more tender, I offer suggestions that this be the feast in question," the creature boomed.
"Indeed, that sounds good. Brother of the East, since the orphanage is in your quadrant, he will need your assistance in leading the children out of there. I don't necessarily care how you do it, just make sure that it's out of the news and that everything is cost efficient, okay?" Brother nodded.
"Excellent. Moving right along; Fabini of the West, congratulations on a hard fought but well done defense of the southwest slums by that Truluk demon. Any word on how it came back from extinction?"
Fabini, sitting next to Brother on the side of the table, leaned forward in his chair and, seemingly exhausted, clasped his hands together firmly. "Yes, it was a vampire named Docket who completed the rising ceremony."
"Docket? He was one of yours, correct?" Manning inquired.
"Did the Hunters take that weight off your shoulders too, Fabini?" Yossarian finally showed emotion in the form of a smile while Brother and Marquez laughed almost out loud. Fabini returned a dreadful look to his Northern equal, and looked back at the human representative: "Yes, Docket was one of mine but he has been taken care of. He is no longer a problem."
"Was there any great losses in that battle?" Manning asked in a purely business-like manner. The smile returned to Yossarian's face as he leaned in for the reply. "Yes.," Fabini's speech slowed, ". the demon and her army were able to slay a few of my men."
"How many?" Manning was not intentionally pressing the issue.
"Six."
"Six? My initial reports state that there were seven casualties."
"Yes, well, a seventh was slain by the new leader of the Hunters." Fabini lowered both his head and his voice on the last reply, not even attempting eye contact with Yossarian, who opted to intercede on his own account: "You mean to tell me after fighting side by side your beloved compatriots, they added another to your losses? And you did nothing?" Yossarian was practically in tears by this time, as was his fellow board members.
"WHAT THE HELL KINDA CHOICE DID I HAVE?! THOSE WERE THE SOUTH-WEST SLUMS AND MARQUEZ DIDN'T EVEN ATTEMPT TO BACK ME UP!!!" Fabini was furious. He settled back into his chair and straightened his near-perfect suit.
"What was I gonna do? Jump in with the Hunters? Look, I had your back-up until you tried to do what you always do. You are the only one of us that tries to make a public face with the Hunters, and they treat you like slave-owners. I prefer to bite, kill, and maim whatever the hell I choose and I cant think of one reason I would wanna spend my time treading water so that I don't get jumped by a bunch of kids with knives and splinters." Marquez straightened himself similarly and settled into his leather chair.
"Yeah, man, plus you tend to tell them that all our territories are yours just to boost yourself up to them. It's pretty repulsive." Brother included. They aren't just kids. These kids are trained. Some of them have been doing this stuff for years and have intense knowledge on how to kill anything that isn't human, and I'm looking out for us by trying to keep them off of us."
"Still," Wyvern boomed, " One cannot survive on merely self- deprecation."
"See? Even Wings here agrees," Yossarian mocked, "And I think it's time we re-think you as the Western rep."
"Calm down, men," Manning stated, " We can discuss possible replacement at the next meeting. We have to get down to discussing arrangements for our bi-annual blood festival as well as representative entries. Fabini, are we to expect Mickey this year?"
"Not on my ticket. He'll be running as an independent. Returning champions can still enter at any point before the finale, correct?"
"Christ! You fall short on your Hunters deal and now you're taking Mickey off your ticket? You know, Manning, I know a vamp moving here out of Jersey who would make an excellent Western head." Yossarian continued the taunting.
"That will be enough, Yossarian. Yes, returning champions are free to defend at any time, especially one of Mickey's caliber. I shouldn't need to remind you how much this festival means to your chances of staying with us."
"Well aware, thanks. I'm just gonna need two open slots on my ticket to fit in what I have to prove. You all can ridicule as much as you like, but when this thing is over, the Hunters will be disbanded and I'll have them working for me." The board room stopped laughing.
Ten minutes before sunset, a group of young men and women sneak through a rare open field in the far western outskirts of Cleveland. The sun creeps beneath the treeline and everything becomes silent. The wind blows and cools the land, creating a noise not even as soft as the noise from the scurrying underneath the tall grass.
Near the center of the field, two young men prep themselves and talk jubilantly. "This is going to be great! I love these exercises!" Gene said.
"I'm glad you're happy," Lock groaned, obviously less jubilant, "because we are about to be jumped by people who know they can take us."
"They don't know jack. They may think they can beat us, but you don't learn from anything but experience, and you and I got that in spades."
"We may have been doing this longer, yes, but they have pointy weapons and crossbows."
"And we have Kevlar vests on. Why do you always do this?"
"Do what?"
"Start whining every time we do this?"
"Same reason I vomit before every hunt. I talk big and fight big, but I've got nerves of cardboard."
"Well you better have balls of steel because these kids wanna take a piece outta the boss and prove something."
"What are they gonna prove? That my skin breaks?"
"That they can one-up you. That's all life is about my friend: Provin that you're better than the guy next to you."
"That's such an awful way to think."
"Yeah, well its effective. Then again, there aint no way you can take me and you still happen to make boss."
"What the hell does that mean? I made boss because I'm logical and don't think with whatever body part you use to carry your pride around!"
"Well, considering how large my ego is, I think we all know the answer to that question."
"Anyways."
"Yeah, anyways. One day, Lock, you and me, buddy. We gonna throw down. We'll see." Lock laughs and Gene smiles. They continue tightening and fitting their Kevlar vests.
Minutes have passed. The darkness is now coming through and the lasts signs of the sun are making their signs known before they depart through the trees and under the hills. The scurrying had stopped for a few moments and then became a full blown dash. Several of them, in fact. The grass parts as what seems to be a black blur blitzes through the brush.
"Okay Nick, m'boy," Lock began, "you tucked in tight enough?"
Nicholas leered at Lock from the chair he was tied to with a look that spoke volumes, most of which is quite unprintable, "Why do I have to be the bait?"
"Initiation, baby," Gene joked, "Then again, I did read this one magazine about a fraternity in Arkansas that had the most messed up hazing rituals. Funny, though, their people were tied to chairs too." Gene's famous evil smile formed on his face as Nick's eyes grew wider.
"Shaddup, Gene." Lock laughed, "that's for later. For now, we need someone to play victim so they have something to tell whether or not they were too fast or too slow in saving you."
"So you two play ass-kickin vamps and I play the guy who's supposed to get bit?"
"Bitten," Gene laughed.
"If they do their jobs correctly, then you wont get bit or bitten."
"Waitaminute," Nick began to worry, "their supposed to find you in a twenty-five mile wide field?"
"Well, technically, their supposed to find you. Don't worry, we wont bite hard and everything will go so quick." Gene was now merely amusing himself.
Lock noticed the sun completely set: "Don't worry, Nick. Gene chose the strike point this time, so we'll all be quiet and they'll find us in about."
Talking ceased. Fighting began. Fire was lit in a circle behind and around the two "vampires" and Lock was impressed that he hadn't even noticed his regulars, donning black, circling the area with gasoline. Jamie jumped in and delivered a strong punch but missed by a hair, effectively causing Lock to take a few steps back. Lock and Jamie shared a few punches while Antoine went directly in for Nicholas. Gene stepped in and cracked Antoine in the face with his elbow, doing his best impersonation of a vampire snarl and face. Antoine chuckled despite the pain in his jaw, leaving Gene in a position to take advantage of his lack of concentration. Mark stepped in and began defending Antoine with punches and side kicks, causing Gene to somersault away from his post. Lock was still having his hands full with Jamie. True, he thought, Jamie was just a TV and movie martial artist, but the man has trained for years and definitely knows what he is doing here. They jumped back and forth until Lock notice that of the eight normal regulars, minus Nicholas, only three were openly fighting them. Lock turned and caught Jamie with a lucky knee to the sternum, causing the fighter to tumble to the ground. Lock looked around, wondering exactly what is going on when four regulars popped out of their hiding places in the tall grass, crossbows extended. Gene fought back towards Nicholas, rampaging and flowing through both Antoine and Mark. They were both taken aback by how efficiently Gene was able to block every shot they took and return fire with his own series of gut shots and sweep kicks. The battle between them all looked poetic and choreographed, though Mark felt full well the effects of blows he didn't see coming.
Lock flipped several times through the air and sprinted away from the crossbow bolts. He thanked God for Kevlar as one bolt struck him in the side, but never reached his skin. Lock fell to the ground in mock-pain, knowing that he had to react like a vampire would if it was struck in the side. He reeled for a second put reached his feet and took haste, never allowing the four a chance to reload the bows and bring a second round off. Lock jumped directly in between them; some chose to actually attempt to reload, leaving them open for a swift beating, while the other, more experienced Hunters knew that the bows were a lost cause in close combat and dropped their weapons. They fought back rather efficiently, even though Lock was still trained well enough to keep the two downed Hunters unconscious while at the same time battling well against his other two adversaries. Gene looked on with admiration as he attempted to draw his battle against Antoine and Mark closer to Lock, hopefully allowing the two psuedo-vampires a chance to work together. Antoine saw this strategy a mile away and left Mark to himself while he attempted to free Nicholas. Gene panicked and hurried to his "hostage" cutting off Antoine as he was trying to untie his teammate. They began to knock each other back and forth until Mark joined in, at which time Gene began to realize that fighting the two of them was exhausting him. His eyes caught Lock's as Lock was fighting odds that were completely stacked against him. Lock jumped and weaved, attempting to fight off the two in front of him while also seeing Jamie raise from his quick nap. Lock closed his eyes for a moment, trying to catch his breath, and his eyes flashed open with new vigor.
Unfortunately for Lock, however, his newfound vigorous eyes also caught sight of twelve bright, pulsating flood lights that were apparently set up around them. Jamie did say he had a surprise for me tonight, Lock thought, noticing he could now longer see anything but shadows and silhouettes. Lock turned blindly around only to catch a bottle to the face and a "stake through the heart." Gene was exhausted. Mark and Antoine both have been around almost as long as he had, and they were both trained by him and knew all of his demeanors. Some exercise, Gene thought, none of these kids are learning a thing because they wouldn't know exactly how some random vampire fights and they know me up and down. Gene knew he had to end this immediately or else he was going to pass out. He simultaneously swept his leg across the ground at a very low angle, catching both Antoine and Mark by surprise. As they dropped to the ground, Gene was already on his feet and behind Nicholas, who was absolutely entranced with how cool they all looked fighting like this. His eyes grew wide as Gene erupted into a loud mock-vampire growl, exposing his very flat, human teeth, and went in for the neck bite. As Gene was going in for the "kill," he caught eye of Lock being smacked in the face with a holy water glass, keeling over and getting a stake to his Kevlar. This sight, though vulgar in every sense of the word, was absolutely beyond hilarious to Gene. He stopped before his game winning bite and burst into tears laughing. Lock rolled around on the ground, making sure the glass didn't crack his skull or leave shards of glass in it, and Gene put his head on Nick's shoulder laughing and crying at the same time, only blandly noticing Antoine lightly rubbing the tip of the wooden stake on the heart section of his Kevlar vest. Gene raised his hands in defeat and, after a few moments of sadistic laughter, made it to his feet and helped Lock up off the ground. "What in the hell was that all about?!" Lock screamed.
"You're supposed to be the vampire, right? And vampires burn to the touch of holy water, right? So I hit you with holy water." Jamie defended himself.
"Yeah, but vampires cant live without heads but you know well enough not to decapitate me, right?" This was Lock trying to calm himself.
"I don't see what the problem is. You say we can fire crossbow bolts at you and try to kick, punch, and stake you, as long as we don't do anything that might actually kill you. So what's wrong with holy water, as long as it kills vampires and not you, right?"
"He has a point, Lock," Gene said, tears of laughter subsiding, "Plus he brings out the actor in you man! I mean, you played the pain so genuine that I woulda sworn you were really hurt."
"Fine, everybody, twenty years from now when I finally say its okay to have this exercises again, you can no longer kill OR maim us, got it?" Lock brought them all in to give his famous critiques for the evening when Gene whispered over to him: "Lock, dude, where we expecting company tonight?"
The team of regulars looked forward out into the field and noticed a truck burrowing through the tall grass towards them. The team stood stoic until they realized that at the speed and angle the truck was headed, there was no way that it was going to stop. They broke in the middle and jumped to either side trying to move out of the way of the speeding vehicle. The truck stopped about twenty-five yards from the group, now reassembled. Out of the back could be seen a huge cage and about three vampires who jumped out and opened the cage. The beasts that flew out of it were ones that not even Lock or Gene had seen before, but both knew far too well they were: werewolves.
"Christ, Lock, we aint prepped for wolves now. Whatta we doin?" There was no trace of humor left in Gene's voice.
"Everybody, spread and take cover! DO NOT KILL them. You hear me?! These arent demons. They are infected humans. They cant help this right now. Antoine?" Lock turned to Antoine, who had already gotten the two shotguns, pre-loaded with tranquilizer darts out and into the hands of Lock and Gene. The pecking order in the groups is both simple and already decided. While Gene is the second in command for the entire group, he is the leader of the Axe Units and his Abbit Twins are the second in command for those same Axe Units. And while he has the Abbits, Lock has appointed Antoine as the second in command of the regulars, so he and Lock know each other back, forth, and sideways, as well as the types of weaponry that he keeps in the Regular Unit van. Gene shook his head in shame of how well trained Lock keeps his units and cocked his shotgun. This battle though chaotic, was rather short, as was intended by both sides. The werewolves attacked hard and fast on everyone, despite the fact that they were only four in number. Gene was able to tranq two and Lock picked off one, but while instructing everyone to focus on the vampires from the truck, Lock was struck down by the remaining werewolf. Nicholas ran in and grabbed Lock's shotgun and pelted the last wolf, rolling him over and off of Lock. Nicholas quickly asked if Lock was okay, and the captain grunted his pleasantries. Lock stumbled forward and caught his balance, just in time to witness three more vamps crawl out of the cab of the truck. Lock turned behind him to see if anyone else might have been injured in the attack, only to be hit by a second truck. He flew several feet and landed hard, severely injured and completely unconscious. Two vamps made their way out of the second cab and picked up Lock, carrying him over to their truck and pulling off.
Gene sprinted after the second, now moving truck and pulled out his trusty wood-tipped bullet sawed-off and pelted two shots, one shattering the back window and the other denting the backside. The battle was drawing to a close when the final vampire, coincidentally the original driver of the first truck began a last ditch sprint back to his vehicle. Gene sprinted forward just fast enough to take a firm, hard step, reload his sawed-off, and stick one well-placed wooden-tipped bullet through the back and heart of the vampiric sprinter.
Gene stood still for a moment, taking it all in. Three regulars, including Jamie, were severely injured and needed medical help. They never trained for freakin werewolves before, Gene thought, Hell! We never even had a werewolf around here that I've ever seen. Gene started to panic. His first thought was to ask Lock what to do, but that was the problem! He rushed over to the vampire's truck and looked inside. He pushed through all the junk, including a dead woman in the passenger side that they were apparently feeding on before they came there. Underneath the corpse was a work order, apparently the work order for the "shipment" they just delivered. Nicholas and Antoine slowly walked up to Gene, who was drastically distraught and shaking from everything. Gene stopped reading and grabbed the keys out of the trucks ignition, throwing them to Antoine.
"Antoine, get anyone who needs help to the hospital. I don't think Larson's patch jobs are gonna work for some of them. Make up something to tell the doctor. Backyard wrestling or something," Gene shook harder now that he was making things up on the spot.
"Gotcha, boss," Antoine replied, noticing a twitch at the sound of the word.
"What's that paper?" Nick asked.
"Work order. Said that these things were shipped here from . lets see. the W.C.H.S. the Western Cleveland Holding Supplier. The name on the shipment is Yo. Yoss. Yossarian? Yossarian of the North? Ah hell, gimmie your cell phone." Gene grabbed Nick's cell-phone and dialed back to the station house.
"Station house. Jules speaking."
"Jules, this is Gene. Listen closely and do everything I'm about to tell you."
"Is everything alright Gene?"
"Listen up! Get Larson down to the Baptist hospital. We have a few men on their way there now. Get the Abbits to organize the Axe Units down here to clean-up some werewolves down here. I want them caged until Sunday's over, cuz that's the last day that the full moon'll be out. And contact Ky and tell her to meet me at the station. We're going hunting tonight."
Hours pass. Lock wakes up and feels his head, still throbbing. He tries to remember, but cant. He remembers the exercises. He remembers the first truck. Oh yeah, he thinks. And the pain comes rushing back. His body cringes and aches all over, and he can barely remember his name through the maelstrom of emotions contacting every point in his body. The light of the full moon shines through the blinds of the window. He scrapes at the cracking substance on his forehead. Dried blood, he realizes. Practically covering his face. He tries to stand but his arms are weak and he cant really feel his legs through the pain. He groans and cries out, managing to turn his body around, trying to catch a look at where exactly he was. It looked like a wood cabin of sorts. The front door was right behind him, but he saw that it had been bolted shut from the outside. There were two windows in the cabin, but too small to fit a human or otherwise out of. The corner he was facing now had no windows. Just shadows. Lock could hear something in that corner though. Not breathing, per say, but something else entirely. More like a shuffling of sorts. Lock was appalled at the scenery of the cabin. It had posters of pop icons and large teddy bears of different sizes and colors. There was a small TV, old it seemed, and very much busted. There was an old radio in the window sill that was playing low-tone, elevator-music renditions of some popular modern day songs. And something was there, in the corner. Lock knew it. Something was in that corner and Lock felt its eyes all over him. Lock thought and thought, and could only come up with one solution; he thought of the one thing that anyone, Hunter, civilian, or horror-movie actress would do in this situation: "Hello?"
"Hi," came the reply from deep in the shadows in a voice that was deep and musky like a grown man's but held a sense of bewilderment like that of a child, "My name's Mickey."