Title: nobody knocks anymore
Word Count: 976
Rating: R (I've heard the f-bomb is only allowed once in PG-13, so)
Pairings (if any): N/A (but hints galore)
Warnings (Non-Con/Dub-Con etc): Profanity and crude language, references to the undead and daemons
Summary: All Alex wants is some holy water or something to combat the creeps in Manhattan. She gets something else entirely, along with a headache.


"Ms. Window, you have a visitor in your office."

"If it's my boss, tell him that he can go and suck a fat, long—"

I heard Nesrasuas' guttural rumble just before I stepped into the room to see a familiar pirate-slash-secret-spy. Oh, right. Forgot about him. "What do you want now? I'm a little busy, if you couldn't already tell."

"Did you forget, Ms. Window?"

"Window," I corrected once more. Don't tell Nes to strangle him, he might actually do it. And then... well, actually, would that be so bad? It probably wouldn't be the smartest thing I've done, but it definitely wouldn't be the dumbest. The daemon's existence on this plane was proof.

"Window." His tone was mocking. It was so, so tempting.

Think of paychecks, think of thick stacks of cash and a tropical island...

"No, I didn't." I held up a folder, wondering if I could toss it as his face without getting reprimanded. Hm... nah, not worth it. "But I've got a job right now, so whatever you're here for is going to have to be put on hold."

"It can't wait that long."

"And why not? I've got zombies and daemons running around this city, and you just waltz in here, expecting—"

His palms coming up, he told me in an infuriatingly calm voice, "Cool your head, before you set something on fire. I just need some information on one of your "daemons." "

"Is that all?" I huffed, growling, "You could have started with that bit of information, you know."

"You jumped down my throat before I could ask," was his response, and then I had another folder sitting in my hands. "Tell me all you can about this loose end you have running around the country."

"Loose end?" Flipping open to a high-definition photograph, I took one look and muttered, "Oh, fuck."


In the end, I was sort of expecting them to come.

That didn't stop me from hurling a stapler at Reggie's stupid grin when I saw him sitting in the lobby. (The secretary was used to my temper by now, which was a little pathetic.) And I still had to ask, "What the fuck are you guys doing here?" Just because it was predictable didn't mean I understood why.

"I told you," Malcolm leapt in, trying to keep me from exploding (as usual). "You can't just mail holy magic. And I know you'd end up killing him if I let him go alone."

I didn't appreciate his answer, or the individual that was trying to hide behind his lanky ass. I dragged out the teenager, who squeaked in justifiable fear of my rage, as I shouted, "And what is she doing here?!"

"U-um," stammered Rani, making herself as small as inhumanly possible, "I-I wanted to h-help."

"You. Help." I laughed. It was slightly hysterical, because I was convinced my friends were not only assholes, but entirely incompetent. "Malcolm, you brought Reggie, who at the best of times nearly gets us all killed, and Nes' half-daemon daughter, to Manhatten... to help?"

"Alex—"

"Are you serious?"

"Alex, listen!" His brows furrowed. I always thought it made him look like an old man.

Lowering his voice, he told me, "Warlocks and rogue mages are popping up like flowers in spring. Master Barnabas said it's the most activity he's seen since World War II, and he estimates it's only going to get worse."

"Yeah," Reggie piped up, never one to let others talk around him. "My family's been going apeshit. You know how they are about daemons."

I scowled. Oh, I know, all right. I didn't want to remember that stupid ceremony he forced me to attend.

"I'm not going to just sit at home, twiddling my thumbs, while you're out there fighting them." Malcolm gestured at the others he had brought. "If you, a bitter necromancer who hates people, are busting your ass to stop these guys, then I'm going to help."

Well. I always knew that the druid-shaman guy had a "hero" streak that was going to kill him (and possibly all of us) one day, but it always managed to surprise me when he got all stupid and noble. It reminded me once more of just how idiotic his and Reggie's loyalty to me was, starting all the way back at Mercigale's Academy and the weather warlock. I still wished they would stop acting like we were bosom buddies or whatever. But maybe knowing these idiots had my back—occasionally—wasn't too bad.

The first words out of my mouth were an amused, "Did you just say "ass"? I'm finally rubbing off on you."

As predicted, a hand went to rub at Malcolm's face in his "I can't believe you" manner. And then came the, "Alex... really? That's what you got from that?"

I ignored his question, continuing, "I'm still pissed off at you guys for being assholes. Did you really have to give her a fake identity using my last name? Do you know how much shit you almost got me in, when the suits thought that I was fucking Nes and producing hellspawn?"

Reggie's cheeky self had to pipe up then. "You mean, you're not?" He moved just out of reach with a laugh, nudging Malcolm with an elbow. "Hey, maybe that means you've still got a chance, Bunny Boy!"

"Shut up, Reggie," I groaned. The fact that Malcolm said that at exactly the same time was a little disturbing. Damn, that's creepier than summoning the undead. Giving them both dirty looks, I spun on a heel to lead them back to my office. "Enough chitchat. We've got a city to purge."

In the sleek ride to the top floors, Reggie's whoop of joy was painfully loud. "All right! Sorry, guys, but we're canceling the apocalypse!" I could already tell a long month was ahead of me.


Prompt: We Are Canceling the Apocalypse!


-Dragon