If You Can't Pulverise, Improvise.
A/N:- usual disclaimers apply
The block of mahogany wood stood majestically on the table top. At 2 by 2ft, it was a reasonable size. He stood a couple of metres away from it, admiring how the light filtered through the barred windows of the warehouse and cast their warm glow over the wood, giving it a deep red sheen. It seemed almost indestructable - nothing could touch something that looked so perfect. Its surface had been polished and waxed with affection and the tree it came from was a giant, its mighty canopy blotting out the sun. Magnificent.
He cast his eyes over the gleaming steel tray infront of him and let his eyes fall on a chisel. He picked it up, feeling the weight of it in his hand. It was of both suitable size and shape - now all it needed was a partner. Returning his eyes to the tray, he selected a hammer with a hard, heavy, rubber end. Perfect. He stood still for a moment, almost regretting he had to mark this beauty.
Dismissing these thoughts immediately, he approached the block of wood, avoiding the shafts of sunlight seeping through the barred windows.
Pulling the table into the shade, he gave the block one last look of admiration then began his work.
He sacrificed sleep, food and good company to fininsh it.
Through the days, his masterpiece began to take shape, forming from the images in his mind.
After 9 days labour it wa complete. Perfect to every last detail.
He sat alone with the wax and polish beside him, returning the beautiful deep red sheen the wood had once possessed.
Running the cloth over the smooth curves for the last time, he smiled.
The wood smiled back.
Taking a few steps back, he absorbed the image infront of him.
The head and shoulders of the Slayer stood on the table top majestically. Her lips curved into a wooden, yet sensual, smile.
Every detail was perfect. The shape of her eyes and nose, her jaw line, her rounded shoulders. Even the way her hair was tucked behind one ear and the faint scar that had been left when Angel bit her.
Turning his back on his sculpture for a moment, he returned his eye to the tools on the tray.
Dissatisfied with the variety, he tut-tutted and looked at the glass case fastened to the wall. Smashing the glass with his elbow, he removed the implement and contemplated its use for a few seconds.
After a split second of consideration, Spike hefted the fire-axe over his shoulder and brought it thundering at the wooden Slayer's head - splitting it in two. The two halves toppled off the table and landed in the pile of sawdust on the floor.
The blonde vampire smiled wickedly and turned to face his prisoner,
"So, Professor, how's about we get this chip out?"
Proffessor Walsh's replacement swallowed hard. This was definately *not* on the job description.
A/N:- usual disclaimers apply
The block of mahogany wood stood majestically on the table top. At 2 by 2ft, it was a reasonable size. He stood a couple of metres away from it, admiring how the light filtered through the barred windows of the warehouse and cast their warm glow over the wood, giving it a deep red sheen. It seemed almost indestructable - nothing could touch something that looked so perfect. Its surface had been polished and waxed with affection and the tree it came from was a giant, its mighty canopy blotting out the sun. Magnificent.
He cast his eyes over the gleaming steel tray infront of him and let his eyes fall on a chisel. He picked it up, feeling the weight of it in his hand. It was of both suitable size and shape - now all it needed was a partner. Returning his eyes to the tray, he selected a hammer with a hard, heavy, rubber end. Perfect. He stood still for a moment, almost regretting he had to mark this beauty.
Dismissing these thoughts immediately, he approached the block of wood, avoiding the shafts of sunlight seeping through the barred windows.
Pulling the table into the shade, he gave the block one last look of admiration then began his work.
He sacrificed sleep, food and good company to fininsh it.
Through the days, his masterpiece began to take shape, forming from the images in his mind.
After 9 days labour it wa complete. Perfect to every last detail.
He sat alone with the wax and polish beside him, returning the beautiful deep red sheen the wood had once possessed.
Running the cloth over the smooth curves for the last time, he smiled.
The wood smiled back.
Taking a few steps back, he absorbed the image infront of him.
The head and shoulders of the Slayer stood on the table top majestically. Her lips curved into a wooden, yet sensual, smile.
Every detail was perfect. The shape of her eyes and nose, her jaw line, her rounded shoulders. Even the way her hair was tucked behind one ear and the faint scar that had been left when Angel bit her.
Turning his back on his sculpture for a moment, he returned his eye to the tools on the tray.
Dissatisfied with the variety, he tut-tutted and looked at the glass case fastened to the wall. Smashing the glass with his elbow, he removed the implement and contemplated its use for a few seconds.
After a split second of consideration, Spike hefted the fire-axe over his shoulder and brought it thundering at the wooden Slayer's head - splitting it in two. The two halves toppled off the table and landed in the pile of sawdust on the floor.
The blonde vampire smiled wickedly and turned to face his prisoner,
"So, Professor, how's about we get this chip out?"
Proffessor Walsh's replacement swallowed hard. This was definately *not* on the job description.