300 reasons to not fade away...
Disclaimer: Don't own anything.
It was the moments before battle, the tense eternal seconds that tick away as you realise, that you are going die.
The vampire known as Angel watched his companions, the mortally wounded Gunn, his incorrigible grandchilde Spike and Illyria, an ancient demon.
He knew that 100 meters from where they stood, the onrushing legions of hell where coming to tear them apart.
Not to mention the huge dragon coming with the enemy.
What he did not know was that from a rooftop above them, a being of immense power and ability stood, a being whose like had not walked the earth for nigh on 2 millennia, though the being known as Glorificus had claimed the title of his kind, and the being below him on the street, the one known as Illyria, had been God-king of her kind, neither were true gods.
The being was Ares, and he was a true god.
This conflict in this 45 meter wide back alley of Los Angeles, would decide the fate of humanity, and since he had a vested interest in humanity, it was time to get the champions down there some reinforcements, and he knew just the people to be those reinforcements.
Rashazar was an ancient demon, his breed of mercenary demons had served those with gold to pay them, however his was a dead breed with only 200 or so left on this plane, they had never been many but nearly 2800 cycles ago the majority of his people had been slain at the battles of Thermopylae and Plataea, by the thrice cursed Spartans.
Now the Wolf, Ram and Hart had paid his tribes to aid in the destruction of 4 champions for the "Powers" it would easy and they would relish the free taste of battle.
Time stopped, the world blinked, and Ares recruited the reinforcements appropriate for a battle against a numerically superior enemy in a tight "pass" where numbers in truth would mean very little.
Time restarted and chaos was sown, lightning struck the dragon and it was shorn from the heavens in a clap of thunder and a death roar. Had any of the demonic minions of the Wolf, Ram and Hart bothered to look they might have found it odd the lightning struck from one of the houses and not the sky.
As it was, the rains stopped the moon came out and the two hundred leading mercenary demons halted in their tracks and stared, for nearing three millennia they had lived in supremacy away from the thrice cursed Spartans, they had held month long feasts at the anniversary of Sparta's fall every single year, but this night they faced 300 men they knew they had killed, 300 men lead by the one being Rashazars tribe hated and feared above all others, arranged in the classic shield wall of their fame, their leader let out a cry unheard before any battle in nearly 2000 years.
"SPARTANS"