DR2 - The Cross of Changes by Nick Midian, Book III, part 8 of 10
Written by Nick Midian
Content beta-reading and storyline suggestions by Duncan
English grammar, spelling, slang, Highlander continuity and general
corrections by Theo
French slang, content beta-reading and storyline suggestions by Mash
French slang by Alan
EMAIL: jcaballero@euskalnet.net
SPOILERS: For Buffy the Vampire Slayer: 3rd season, BUT no Xander/Willow
kissing and no Lover's Walk (welcome to the wonderful State of Denial,
Land of 'Shippiness). Hmmm, I've messed with the third season's timeline
to accommodate it to my necessities. Let's just say that 'Band Candy'
happened a lot later than it did, around the first days of February, OK?
For Highlander: None really, the characters of the TV series and films are
only tangentially mentioned. You just need to know the basics of
Highlander-style immortality, BUT I've always thought that whole
'Immortals have no parents and are found in a little basket' is a... um,
the Spanish word for it is 'chorrada', so let's just ignore it, OK?
KEYWORDS: Romance, Angst, Action-adventure, Violence, Alternate Universe,
Crossover.
RATING: PG-13 with some mild R parts for violence and sexual innuendo.
DISCLAIMER: This story has been written with no intention of profit,
merely for the pleasure of writing and sharing it.
The concept and characters of BTVS (Buffy, Angel, Cordelia, Xander,
Willow, Oz, Giles, Joyce, Spike, Drusilla, Snyder, Faith, Harmony, Lyle
Gorch, Quentin Travers and the rest) are intellectual and legal property
of Joss Whedon, Warner Brothers, Mutant Enemy, etc. Also, the concept of
Highlander and the characters mentioned here (Duncan MacLeod, Amanda
Darieux, Richie Ryan, Joe Dawson and the Society of Watchers) are the
property of Panzer-Davis and Rysher Entertainment.
Michael Deveraux, Rachel Curran, Crystal Parker, Kyle White Owl, Robert
Coltrane, Elvis the Dog, Broderick Egoyan, Damon Frost, Mr. Smith, the
World Committee for Civil Defense and the rest are my own creation.
All the songs and lyrics here are used without permission, they are
copyright of their respective rights owners.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: Please, understand that English is not my native language,
so any grammatical or spelling errors are my fault, not of any one of my
wonderful beta-readers. If you're thinking of sending any flames, please
be kind with me. I'm a grown man, but I still can cry like a child,
believe me.
SUMMARY: Broderick Egoyan has carefully chosen the right moment to strike,
when friends are against friends and all trust seems about to vanish
between Slayerettes and Archangels. It's right when you think things
couldn't get worse that they get worse.
And now, on with the show. Fasten your seat belts ladies and gentlemen,
because it's going to be a long, hard and jumpy ride...
~~~~~~
The cast for Book III
Nicholas Brendon as Xander Harris
Charisma Carpenter as Cordelia Chase
Sarah Michelle Gellar as Buffy Summers
David Boreanaz as Angel
Alyson Hannigan as Willow Rosenberg
Seth Green as Daniel 'Oz' Osborne
Anthony Stewart Head as Rupert Giles
Kristine Sutherland as Joyce Summers
Matthew Perry as Michael Deveraux
Paula Trickey as Rachel Curran
James Marsters as Spike
Nikki Cox as Crystal Parker
David James Elliott as Kyle White Owl
Elvis the Dog as Himself
Eliza Dushku as Faith Adams
Donald Sutherland as The Old Chess Player, Broderick Egoyan
Sebastian Spence as Damon Frost
Avery Brooks as Mr. Smith
Amy Chance as Aphrodesia
Persia White as Aura
Alan Rickman as Conrad Swann
Wesley Snipes as Talon Pantera
Dennis Rodman as Rush Pantera
Tom Berenger as Colonel Cabbot Ashe
Michael Ironside as The Sergeant
Benjamin Bratt as Santero
Trevor Goddar as Backlash
Dolph Lundgren as Havoc
Rob Rowland as Chopper
Jake Busey as Sniper
Shaquille O'Neal as Beast
Matthew Ferguson as Chip
Bill Paxton as Major Stephen Marsden, USAF
Tom Sizemore as Master Sergeant Ricky Perkins, USAF
John Leguizamo as Airman First Class Charlie Martinelli, USAF
Mario Lopez as Airman First Class Alonso 'Bear' Vasquez, USAF
Patrick Labyorteaux as Sergeant Edwin Walters, USAF
Richard Dean Anderson as Col. Jack O'Neill, USAF
Michael Shanks as Dr. Daniel Jackson
Amanda Tapping as Maj. Samantha Carter, USAF
Christopher Judge as Teal'c
Don S. Davis as Gen. George Hammond, USAF
Teryl Rothery as Dr. Janet Fraiser
Tom McBeath as Col. Harry Mayborne, USAF
Peter Deluise as Airman Shepard, USAF
with
Kevin Spacey as Robert Coltrane
Nicholas Lea as Jonah Whalls
and
Catherine Zeta-Jones as the Lady in Red
~~~~~~
"You have an obstacle ahead, Xan," Kyle's voice came through the speaker
in his ear, needlessly warning him. "And it doesn't look like he's going
to slow down any time soon."
In spite of his dark sunglasses, Xander's sensitive vampire eyes were
suddenly blinded when the Humvee's powerful anti-fog headlamps were
switched on, and he had to take his eyes away for a brief second, blinking
repeatedly to extinguish the stars shining behind his eyelids.
This meant that he couldn't notice the man appearing through the
rolled-down window, until it was almost too late.
"Xander!!" Kyle roared through the radio, making him rise his eyes from
the blurred asphalt.
Havoc's South African grenade launcher had a compact MAC-11 submachine-gun
attached under the barrel, replacing the front handle. And as he aimed
directly at the young vampire on his bike, the Scandinavian mercenary
opened up with automatic fire, sending a wave of bullets in his direction.
As he shifted unconsciously into his game face, his handsome features
filling with ridges and planes and feeling his sharp fangs under his upper
lip, Xander cursed under his breath. He yanked at the bike's handlebars
with all his unnatural strength, raising the front wheel of the Yamaha and
using the massive block of the engine as a cover.
Speeding at more than 80 mph on its rear wheel, the muscled bike received
the impacts of the bullets: which ripped golden sparks from the metal,
before Xander let the front wheel fall back to the ground when the
mercenary stopped firing against him.
The young vampire cursed again, finding himself practically over the hood
of the upcoming Humvee, with very little time and space to react.
In the space of a heartbeat, Xander took one look at the scene, the
Humvee's massive body speeding towards him, boring down the middle of the
road, the rows of cars parked at both sides of the street and the almost
too-narrow space between them and the military vehicle.
And the grenade-launcher, again directly aimed against his person. His
sharp eyes captured all this and, in the space of a nanosecond, he made a
decision.
"I'm going to the right!" he shouted into the microphones around his
throat as he turned into said direction. And he did it so violently, that
the bike groaned at the very limits of its tires' performance.
"Hear ya!" Kyle exclaimed, veering to the left at the very moment in which
Havoc pulled the trigger of the grenade launcher, and a 37mm explosive
projectile came straight at them.
The grenade passed through the empty space left by the two moving vehicles
and impacted against a parked Chrysler, making it blow up into a ball of
fire and flying shrapnel as its metallic frame flew off the ground,
twisting and screaming in metallic torture.
"Wow!" the Texan exclaimed looking at the explosion through the rearview
mirror, as the interior of his car filled with the crackling yellows and
reds of the fire. "What a blast!"
The black Humvee followed the trail of the grenade as Xander passed by its
right like an exhalation and Kyle did the same by the opposed side,
although the tall Texan barely had enough space to introduce his
cherry-red Pathfinder between the military vehicle and the row of parked
cars.
Leaning his head to one side, the young vampire dodged the exterior mirror
of the vehicle by a too-short inch. When he finally passed the car,
fighting to control the bike in the middle of the turbulence caused by the
massive Humvee, Xander twisted the handlebars violently.
He side-swiped the Yamaha and skidded laterally on its smoking tires for
several meters, until he finally stopped and made it turn around.
Kyle, on the contrary, didn't have as much luck. The space for his vehicle
was so short that the passenger's side mirror crashed against the Humvee's
one, the two of them shattering into flying pieces as the two sides of
both vehicles scratched against each other, eliciting sparks with the
contact.
Then, when he was about to leave the Humvee behind, its driver twisted the
steering wheel violently, making its rear side crash against Kyle's own
vehicle.
Since the military vehicle was way heavier than his luxury SUV, the
cherry-red Pathfinder was sent against the row of parked cars. It spun
around madly, as its driver unsuccessfully tried to control it.
"Son of a..." Kyle growled under his breath, seeing how the line of cars
was now dangerously close. "Cris, hold onto some-"
His voice died in his lips as the red-haired witch made a complex sign
with her hands, muttering something intelligible through her perfect,
crimson lips.
The Pathfinder collided against the row of parked cars and the force of
the impact raised the off-road vehicle's body off the ground, as it spun
madly in the middle of the noise of shattering glass and breaking metal.
When Kyle's head banged against the steering wheel painfully, the Texan
released a yelp of pain but his exclamation quickly faded away as the
interior of the vehicle filled suddenly with a strange white foam that
blinded his eyes and got into his mouth, silencing him.
The strange foam, surprisingly warm, thickened and turned solid in a
heartbeat, rendering the Texan and the witch motionless, preventing them
from making any movement at the same time that it protected their bodies
from the blows and the impacts of the accident.
As the car crashed upside-down, flattening several innocent cars in the
process and finally remaining still, Kyle started to move. He pushed at
the solid foam around him until he managed to rip off a large chunk of it
and move his head out the shattered window, taking greedy breaths of fresh
air and spitting the remains of the tasteless foam from his mouth.
Awkwardly crawling out of the synthetic hug of the foam, he got out on his
knees and reached into the hole with his right arm, until his hand closed
around Crystal's wrist and he started to yank at it, bringing the witch
out of the crashed vehicle.
"What the hell was that?" he asked her, as he helped her to her feet and
checked that she wasn't wounded. "Some kind of magical meringue?"
"Something like that," she coughed, nodding and giving him a shy smile. "A
protection spell. I hadn't tried it since I was an apprentice, I wasn't
sure it would work."
Giving her a twisted, non-amused smile, Kyle knelt down by the Pathfinder
and dug into the solid foam until he managed to uncover the weapon's rack
attached to the ceiling and got his combat shotgun from it.
"Kyle? Cris?" Xander's worried voice came from their headphones. "I can't
see you, are you alright?"
Looking over the upside-down vehicle, the Texan located the young vampire
practically at the end of the street and gave him a thumbs-up sign. "Yeah,
a little shaken but we're alright otherwise. Hey, those jerks are getting
away, are you gonna let that happen?"
Across the street, Xander arched his vampire brow. "I was about to..." Out
of the corner of his eye, he noticed some movement and he turned his head
as the main, and tattered, door of Giles' duplex apartment opened.
A disheveled Cordelia came out of the building, running towards him at a
fast pace, looking like something that the cat had just spat out and
wielding a nasty black steel Beretta 92FS Brigadier.
"Wait a moment," he whispered, allowing his human mask to return and
taking off his sunglasses.
Cordelia walked to him and Xander arched his brow expectantly, as his
lover climbed onto the bike's seat behind him.
"What?" she asked with annoyance, noticing his inquiring stare. "You can't
expect me to be like dressed to the nines 24/7, can you?"
~~~~~~
Barely a couple of minutes before, as the two mercenaries retreated away
from the apartment, covering themselves behind a wall of gunshots,
Cordelia was kneeling down beside the desk.
Biting her lower lip not to scream in frustration and rage, while her
cover was torn apart by the bullets fired against her.
Sighing, trying to calm down and slow her fast-racing pulse, Cordelia
leaned back against the desk and her thumb ejected her borrowed pistol's
clip, allowing her to check how many bullets she had left.
Five in the magazine plus one more in the chamber made a total of six,
which wasn't exactly something to write home about. Returning the clip to
the butt of the gun, she clenched her teeth and shook her head.
Things weren't turning out well but, at least, she noticed the gunshots
against her seemed to have stopped.
Steeling herself, the young brunette dared to raise her head and took a
look over the edge of the desk, her wide eyes scanning the semi-darkness
of the office and adjacent living-room, the shapeless forms of the broken
furniture and the hallway leading to the main entrance.
She found no trace of the mercenaries and guessed that, at last, they had
chosen the better part of valor and decided to retreat now that they had
obtained what they were looking for.
She was starting to get up from the floor when suddenly something leaped
out of the shadows of the living-room, and a massive figure landed on top
of the desk, making her recoil in surprise and fall back to the floor in
her already pained behind.
The humanoid form crouched down over the desk predatorily, and hissed at
her, spraying saliva and blood everywhere from his open, fanged jaws. His
feline features, accentuated by the horrible wound that had scarred the
left side of his face, were certainly scary.
But Cordelia had been a full-time Slayerette for years now, and had seen
things that made Rush Pantera look like nothing more than a side-show
freak in a Southern fair.
No, the time for terrified and hysterical screaming had passed long ago
for her and this time, as often before, she didn't allow panic to
overwhelm her. And, although she was as scared as she probably ever could
be, she kept her blood cold and her mind clear.
"Hiss your mother, you freak!" she shouted at him angrily.
Letting herself completely fall to the floor, Cordelia pushed with her
bare feet against the desk, sliding on her back away from the feline man
as she raised her gun and fired repeatedly against him, emptying the clip
on his figure.
Rush shook like a leaf in the middle of a hurricane as the lead bullets
hit him squarely in the chest, piercing his heart and lungs and sending
him flying backwards from the surface of the desk.
Getting to her feet, Cordelia rounded the torn piece of furniture, aiming
at the man's fallen figure with her empty gun. On the floor, moaning and
whining, Rush was still twisting as he profusely bled from his wounds.
The young brunette aimed at his head and pulled the trigger, but the
Beretta clicked empty and she released a colorful curse as she looked at
the open slide and the dark void of the empty chamber.
"Cordelia!" Giles' voice came then from the top of the tattered staircase.
She turned towards him and the British Watcher started to climb down the
stair cautiously, trying not to stumble upon any of the steps torn apart
by the bullets.
"I-I thought you would need this," he told her with an uneasy smile,
throwing a small bulk to her that the brunette caught in mid-air. A full
9mm clip. "I got it from... the man upstairs."
"Thanks," she said simply, avoiding his intense green eyes as she ejected
the empty clip and replaced it with the fresh one. Pulling at the weapon,
she released the gun's slide, which chambered a new round into the
chamber.
Before she could go away, Giles grabbed her by the dirty fabric of her
blouse. She stopped and turned around, looking at him silent and
expectantly.
Giles arched his brow, and sighed tiredly. "You're not going to step back
away from this, no matter what I tell you, are you?"
Cordelia managed a sad smile, before shaking her head. "I've gone too far
for that, Giles. And you can't protect me, not anymore." She pointed at
the squirming man on the floor with her chin. "Would you...?"
Nodding, Giles closed his eyes. "Y-yes, I will take care of him, Cordelia.
You just... be careful, OK?"
She smiled again, this time for real, and quickly pecked him on the cheek
before turning around and starting to run toward the exit, once more on
the proverbial chase.
Pinching the bridge of his nose tiredly, Giles sighed again and looked
down at the man at his feet. "What am I going to do with you, my friend?"
he asked with resignation.
The only sound coming from the wounded feline man, was a cry of pain.
~~~~~~
"One of these days we're going to have a long talk about your wardrobe,
Cris," Kyle told her with a smile. He observed how the red-haired witch
had to roll up the lower part of her white robe, so she could keep up with
her friend's fast pace and not stumble upon it.
In the process she had bared her long and smooth legs, much to the Texan's
viewing pleasure. "Do I hear any complaints?" she asked with a half-smile.
He chuckled, and shook his head. "Speaking as a hot-blooded male, not at
all. But you have to admit that those clothes are hardly what you can
call... tactically adequate."
"Oh, and that coming from a man who wears Duffy Duck underwear."
Kyle's jaw hung loose, as he looked at her in ashamed astonishment. "How
did you know...?"
Bringing a slender finger to her smiling lips, Crystal shushed him. "Shh,
do you hear that?"
"What? I just-"
She silenced him by covering his mouth with her hand and the tall Texan
rolled his blue eyes before he, at the witch's determined stare, sighed
and tilted his head to one side and the other. Kyle finally heard
something; something that, for the lack of a better word, was completely
animalistic.
Grunts. Growls. Hisses...
As he nodded to his companion without uttering a word, the two of them
resumed their jog towards the building and, just as they were about to
round the corner, Kyle stopped dead in his tracks, raising his arm to
indicate Crystal that she do the same.
"I feel a strong source of power nearby," the red-haired witch whispered
at him as the Texan carefully leaned on the corner and took a cautious
look. "We should... Kyle, are you even listening to me?"
The truth was, he wasn't. He couldn't, as all of his attention was
centered on the two supernatural beasts fighting some yards away from
them, their huge hairy bodies moving between the trees of the garden, dark
shadows that flowed like quicksilver in the still air of the night.
The large red-haired werewolf, with his claws and fangs shining under the
pale moonlight, his hairy body crisscrossed by one-too-many cuts, his
reddish locks drenched with his own blood, was a perfect machine of
destruction.
Kyle saw him grabbing a thin tree and ripping it from its roots with only
one hand, using it afterwards to keep its adversary at bay, swinging it as
if it was a baseball bat.
It was a scary image, but it wasn't what made Kyle's blood freeze inside
his veins. It wasn't what made something inside his stomach ache so much,
that he thought he was going to vomit. It wasn't what made his soul bleed.
Frozen on the spot, he couldn't help but remember a time long ago, a voice
and a piece of advice that a man he had considered more family than friend
had once given him. And, now, the truth in his words was so evident that
it hurt.
=Revenge is a weapon that always backfires on you.=
As his darkened blue eyes followed the movements of the black-furred man
and he fought the sting of tears, Kyle White Owl released a painful sigh
and took the safety off of his combat shotgun, pumping a fresh cartridge
into the chamber.
"Cris," he whispered to the witch at his side with a voice that was barely
recognizable as his own. "Go by the back, check the interior. I'll take
care of this."
Looking at him through half-closed eyes, Crystal shook her head, not
liking at all the tone on her friend's voice, the sudden paleness of his
expression and, above all, the way in which his green-brown aura was
shape-shifting, darkening and shining with the unmistakable traces of an
overwhelming rage.
"I don't think that's-"
"Just do it!" Kyle shouted at her harshly, looking at her shorter frame
over his shoulder. The rage in his blazing blue eyes was so intense, that
it made the witch recoil in shock.
The Texan sighed again and, closing his eyes, shook his head. "I'm sorry,
but I'll take care of this, OK? You just go into the house and check that
everybody's alright."
"As you say," she whispered, her expression guarded and a little cold.
Kyle wished he had the time, or the ability, to explain her what was going
through his head, but he knew he was painfully short of both things. He
just had to take care of everything as it was not only his responsibility,
but his fate as well.
"Be careful," he whispered at her as she turned around and started to walk
away. Crystal stopped, and looked at him over her white-clad shoulder. The
red-haired witch managed to produce a weak smile for him and nodded,
before resuming her walk and disappearing around the corner.
Turning to the two fighting beasts, Kyle gulped down a thick knot that had
formed inside his throat and started to walk towards them, his eyes fixed
on the feline man, following each one of his movements.
=Bury the dead,= he thought, as his grandfather used to say. =Bury the
dead and dwell with the living, but never close your ears to the words of
those who have preceded you.=
"Damn it, Grandpa," he whispered to himself, smiling at the dear memory of
Jake White Owl, "I wish you were here, and I wish you'd told me what to do
with those that don't want to stay buried."
Kyle was at less than ten yards from the werewolf and his adversary, when
he raised his Benelli M3 SWAT and fired a single shot to the dark sky
above. The gunshot thundered in the quiet air, killing the soft grunts and
growls of the two supernatural beasts and making them turn around to look
at him with similar blazing eyes.
In the darkness of the night, their eyes flamed like fireflies, stabbing
his human figure with their intense stares. But, if the tall Texan felt
intimidated in any way about them, nothing in his stance or in his
expression betrayed his cold composure.
Lowering his shotgun, Kyle pumped the weapon again, ejecting a red shell
and loading a new one into the chamber.
"Oz," he acknowledged the red-haired werewolf, nodding softly in his
direction, "nice new look, pretty claws."
As his only response, the werewolf threw the ripped tree away and released
a low growl. Then, he retreated a couple of steps, crouching down and
looking alternately at his enemy and the recent arrived human, knowing,
feeling that he had to wait for new developments.
Slowly, he started to lick his wounds where the feline man's claws had cut
his flesh.
Kyle moved his eyes from Oz, to settle them on the feline as the man
looked back at him, breathing heavily because of the effort of the fight
but smiling widely, showing his rows of pointed teeth.
"Talon," Kyle whispered, nodding at him. "It's been a long time."
"Too long, favorite son of the tribe," the black man growled as he took
off the torn remains of his leather jacket and carelessly threw them away.
His broad chest and thick arms were as slashed and covered in blood as the
werewolf's, but it seemed like that didn't bother the feline-man at all.
In fact, all that seemed to exist in the world right then was the tall man
wielding a shotgun in front of him. "Tooo long. But all roads make a
circle. Here we are, as always, right at the beginning, right at the end."
He crouched down and smiled, baring his fangs. "As always, Kyle White Owl,
son of Edward, grandson of Jacob."
Nodding, Kyle took a short look around. "Where's your brother, Talon?
Hanging from some hunter's wall, I hope."
Talon laughed, which was more a hiss than a human sound. "Near he is. But
about him don't you worry, favorite son. Worry about me."
Arching his brow, Kyle gave him a cocky smile. "Who said I'm worried?"
With a powerful roar as only warning, Talon leaped to him, his arms
extended and ready to rip the human's tender flesh with his sharp claws.
But his jump was cut painfully short as Kyle pulled the trigger of his
shotgun, and a cloud of fire, smoke and buckshot erupted from the muzzle
of the 12-gauge.
It hit the feline-man in mid-air, and dragged him backwards with the force
of the impact for several meters, rolling on the muddy grass.
Bringing the shotgun's butt against his shoulder as he reloaded it, the
smile on his lips was replaced by a grim and determined expression. Kyle
aimed at Talon, and waited till the black man started to awkwardly get to
his knees before firing again.
He ripped a large chunk of flesh from his left shoulder with the impact,
and sent him spinning in the air into a mad twister.
As he walked towards him, his mind filled with voices he had thought
extinguished a long time ago and his eyes covered by a red veil of rage
and hate, Kyle kept on firing his shotgun again and again.
He made the man backpedal as his body was practically torn to pieces by
the lead buckshot, and his blood sprayed the quiet, cold air of the night.
Four times. Five times. Six times... the tall Texan lost count of how many
times he shot Talon. In the end, it wasn't really him who was the one that
gathered the strength and peace of mind to stop doing it, but the
sensation of a strange hand grabbing him by the elbow and making him turn
around.
Releasing a curse, Kyle had to make an effort not to slam the butt of his
Benelli into the face of whomever was stopping him to do what every
living, burning cell of his body was screaming at him to do.
He found himself face to face with Oz's collected features, which were
surprisingly calm even when they were still wolfish and a set of yellow
eyes were blazing in the middle of them.
He had three bleeding lines crossing his face from his left temple, over
the bridge of his nose to the very point of his chin. Kyle thought that,
and the rest of his wounds covering his body, had to hurt like hell. He
was going to have a good set of scars, too.
"Let it be," the young werewolf whispered softly to him. "He's dead."
Kyle shrugged the werewolf's hand away, turning back to face the
feline-man again. He was still on the floor, quiet, without any sign of
life in his motionless body. Half of his face had disappeared and his
chest was opened up by the gunshots, allowing him to see his exposed
ribcage and inner organs.
"Some things refuse to stay dead, Oz," he whispered, his eyes magnetically
fixed on Talon. "Some things can't ever be killed."
~~~~~~
After leaving Kyle, Crystal rounded the building and walked to the main
entrance of the apartment complex with her senses, both physical and
spiritual, scanning each squared inch around her.
Although she was worried about her friend's state of mind, and the way he
had reacted at the vision of the two beasts, she knew that Kyle would be
able to take care of himself. And, the truth was she preferred it that he
would stay away from the building as much as possible.
In the end, he would be safer.
Because she hadn't lied to him, but she hadn't told him the complete
truth, either. Yes, she had felt a great source of power nearby – so
strong that she was been about to faint, so thick and poisonous that her
whole body had been rocked by a painful wave of nausea.
What she hadn't told him was that she had recognized it the very moment
they had neared the building, the imprint of that power so clear to her
that it had chilled the red-haired witch to the bone.
Without her knowledge, the same words that were crossing her friend's mind
in that very moment were the ones that took form in her own. =Some things
refuse to stay dead.=
Reaching the main entrance, Crystal took a deep breath and pushed the door
open, which trembled on its punished hinges and was about to fall to the
ground.
Her jade-green eyes scanned the dark interior of the apartment for a brief
moment and then she took a step forward, steeling herself and fighting not
to shake with the fear that was engulfing her whole being.
"I'm here, Conrad," she whispered so quietly that only she was able to
hear her own voice, "I'm here, my dear."
~~~~~~
Leaving the stranger feline-man's body alone for a second, Giles retreated
back to his office in search for something he could use as a weapon
against him, not very sure of what that weapon could be.
Of course he had heard and read about beings such as the one that was
squirming in agony on the floor of his ravished living room, but all the
textbooks that had mentioned them assured him that they had died out
centuries ago.
Like the rest of shape-shifting species, that had once populated the
confines of the Earth.
Supposedly all that remained of them were the werewolves, which apparently
had been the only ones wise and strong enough to survive as the hand of
the progress and the modern age had destroyed the wilderness where they'd
had to seek refuge.
Now, as he took a short look at the feline-man, Giles thought that, as
with many other things in the last few years, that it was something that
had to be questioned and rediscussed.
Giles suspected he would be vulnerable to the same things as his lupine
relative. At least he hoped so, as he retrieved from the umbrella stand an
old and heavy cane that had belonged to his parents and which had its
pommel and point made of hard and shiny silver.
Walking back to the man's body, Giles took a deep breath and towered over
him, lifting the cane with his two hands, ready to sink its pointed end on
the feline's chest.
On the floor at his feet, Rush emitted a soft, pained moan and exhaled a
long breath, becoming completely motionless as, closing his eyes, his head
fell to one side. Immediately, all traces of his feline form vanished from
his body, the thick black fur retreating to nothing as his features melted
back to human.
All that remained was an incredibly tall Afro-American man covered with
the torn remains of a spaceman-like jumpsuit, drenched in blood and with
his hair colored in ten different shades of pink, yellow, blue and green.
"Well," Giles whispered amazed as he slowly lowered the cane, "I'll be
damned..."
And, of course, that was when Rush opened his eyes and hissed at him,
spraying saliva from his open jaws as he trapped Giles' ankles between his
legs and scissored them, throwing him to the floor.
Cursing his own stupidity under his breath, Giles rushed to his knees at
the same time as the black man, his features once more changing to his
supernatural self. The Watcher swung his cane over his shoulder, hitting
him on the side of his head and throwing him to one side.
As fast as he could, Giles stood up and threw himself over the stranger
man, hitting him again and again with the heavy cane like a garrote,
eliciting a sharp scream of pain from Rush every time that the silver
pommel stroke his body.
Taking a deep breath, the usually collected British Watcher clenched his
teeth and raised the cane over his head.
"Bad kitty," he growled, ready to deliver a final powerful blow to the
man's head.
The cane was already starting to trace out the falling arc when a when it
was yanked from his hands by an invisible force and, carried by his own
momentum, Giles stumbled on his feet, making an effort not to fall to the
floor at Rush's side.
Raising his shocked eyes, Giles watched helpless how the cane floated in
the air, flying away from him until a human hand trapped it, rendering it
motionless.
Waving the cane, Conrad Swann pointed at the Watcher with it, shaking his
head in disappointment. The one-eyed warlock looked like crap, his elegant
clothes wrinkled and torn, his skin haggard and streaked with dried blood,
but his only blue eye was flaming with rage as he looked at Giles, wanting
to stab him.
"You are a lousy host, Rupert," Swann whispered, shaking the cane at him.
"A very impolite one."
Giles snorted and rolled his eyes. "Well, I'm at the guests' level. This
will do me good for the next time I decide to throw a party, I suppose."
The warlock smiled widely, in spite of his angered state. Throwing the
cane aside, he raised his two hands with their palms up, twin blue balls
of energy already forming in them. "Don't you worry, my friend. We won't
bother you for long."
"You can say that again, Conrad," a feminine voice said near them. "You
won't bother anyone else ever again."
As Crystal came into the room majestically, her white robes shining in the
dim darkness, Swann turned around in flash and launched his flaming blue
balls against her. The red-haired witch simply raised her left arm and a
small vortex appeared in front of her open hand, absorbing the energy
blasts and making them disappear into its swirling bowels.
Releasing a dry laugh, Swann shook his head in amazement as the witch
lowered her hand and looked at him with calm green eyes. "Always as fast
and silent as a snake, aren't you Crystal? It's nice to see that you're
still in good shape, my darling."
She shrugged, slowly walking towards Giles and offered an obviously faked
soft smile to him. "I like to work out regularly."
Leaning down, she helped Giles to stand up and checked that the
middle-aged man wasn't severely injured. "Are you OK, Rupert?"
"Why is everybody asking me that today?" he asked, shaking his head and
rearranging his clothes. The witch offered him a smile, a real one this
time, and rolled her eyes.
"Yes," he whispered, returning the smile, "I'm not exactly alright, but
I'll get better."
"Very well then," she said, turning to look down at Rush's squirming
figure on the floor. "I don't know who you are, what you want or why
you're here, but I'm giving you one chance to leave now unharmed. Well,"
she corrected herself with a half smile, "not more harmed, at least."
The black man hissed at her, baring his fangs from the floor and the
witch's eyes started to glow, crackling blue lightning coming out of her
jade-green orbs.
"I won't say it twice."
Choosing the better part of valor, Rush rolled to his hands and knees and
stood up, growling one last time at them before turning around and running
away, escaping through the broken window.
The feline-man stopped for a moment, crouched down on the frame of the
window, and looked at them over his shoulder, his blazing eyes the only
discernible feature on his face in the darkness.
Then, without uttering a word, he leaped outside, disappearing into the
night.
"Smart kitty," Giles murmured, holding back a shiver.
"The same goes for you, Conrad," Crystal told the warlock then, her eyes
still blazing like a lightning storm. "Unless you prefer to stay, of
course."
The warlock smiled at her with delight, tilting his head to one side. "Do
you want to remember old times, my dear?"
Shaking her head, Crystal's features became as hard as steel. "I wish I
could erase those 'old times' from my mind, Conrad. I wish I could erase
you from my past. Now, I know I can't do that," she whispered raggedly,
raising a fist which was now glowing exactly like her eyes, "but I still
can erase you off the surface of the Earth."
"I bet you'd like that, Crystal." Slowly, he spread his arms wide as both
sides of his body. "But I'm afraid I neither have the time nor the energy
for such a confrontation right now. You have... interesting friends,
Crystal, especially that pretty young redhead. We'll have to talk later,
like I talked with her."
"You bastard!" she yelled at him, losing her usually calm composure as
sparkling lightning bolts came out her fingers in the warlock's direction.
His laughter resounded in the room as his body began to spin around on the
spot, enveloped into a whirlwind of golden sparks. Cris' blue lightning
bolts crackled around the small tornado, shunted aside by it, until he
simply vanished in an explosion of sparks with a final laugh.
The whirlwind slowed its pace and finally stopped, allowing the soft
dust-bunnies it had lifted to float down to the floor.
Shaking his head in wonder, Giles allowed himself to lean back against the
wall and release a long, tired sigh of relief now that everything seemed
to be over. "Teleportation... incredible. Who was that man?"
With her green eyes fixed on the spot that Swann had occupied barely
seconds ago, Crystal bit her lower lip, fighting down the tears and the
pain in the deepest part of her soul.
"My ex-fiancé," she whispered, before looking straight at him.
~~~~~~
When Rush appeared in the window frame, growling and salivating like the
angry beast that he was, Kyle turned around instinctively, raising his
shotgun with one hand and pulling the trigger.
But, instead of the expected explosion, the only sound that came from the
Benelli was the click of its firing-pin hitting an empty chamber and the
tall Texan remembered that he had emptied the tubular magazine in the
feline-man's brother.
"Oh, shit," he grunted, as Rush leaped in his direction with his claws out
and ready.
His jump, however, was cut short as Oz got in the middle of his path,
already turning into his lupine self and grabbing the taller black man,
taking him away from Kyle.
The werewolf spun around and pinned him against the trunk of a near tree,
slamming his clawed fist into his throat before cutting him with a
crescent slash from his abdomen to the upper side of his chest.
The feline-man howled in pain and slashed wildly with his claws, making Oz
duck under them and exposing his chin for the feline to knee him away.
Kyle was reaching for his revolver when something, a sixth sense, made him
look over his shoulder and turn around. Talon was standing up, holding his
numerous wounds with his hands, trying to hold back the profuse
hemorrhaging.
"Favorite son," he hissed at him, "with me your fight is. With you my debt
is. Don't you want to pay it?"
Looking at him through half-closed, hard eyes, Kyle's fingers abandoned
the grip of his revolver, leaving the gun holstered under his left arm and
reached out to the small of his back.
Very slowly, he unsheathed his Bowie knife and raised the ten-inch blade,
which shone silver in the pale moonlight. "I want," he whispered raggedly.
For a brief moment, he saw the reflection of his face on the polished
surface of the blade, and he wasn't able to recognize himself. Too pale,
too scared, too furious to be him.
"I want," he repeated.
In the distance, the wail of the police sirens was heard, shattering the
night as they approached to them.
Talon looked at the source of the sound for a brief moment, and then
looked back at the tall Texan, his twisted features dyed with the red and
the blue of the upcoming police lights. "I will do, favorite son. You will
have your chance, don't doubt it. Rush!"
The younger and taller man, which was facing a growling Oz, turned his
head to look at his brother and nodded, retreating in his direction after
giving a last menacing hiss to the red-haired werewolf.
"Play later, doggie?" he asked, with his characteristic hyena laugh.
Changing back, Oz looked at him with his yellow eyes. "You can bet on it."
The two human beasts got together and quickly ran away from the scene as
Oz walked closer to the tall Texan, who was following at their retreating
forms with an ominous look.
Rush's laughter was heard one last time, as they disappeared into the
darkness and Kyle finally relaxed his stance, lowering his knife and
exhaling a long breath.
"I guess this is the end," Oz said, wiping the blood from his now human
face with the back of his hand, and only succeeding in smearing it over
his pale features.
"Not by any means," Kyle whispered to him, his blue yes still fixed on the
spot where the two Pantera brothers had disappeared. "Not if I have
anything to do with it."
The young werewolf nodded and suddenly grimaced in pain, holding his
shoulder where Rush had bitten him. In his human form, only covered by the
remains of his torn jeans, the wounds had became smaller. But they were
still bleeding, and he was starting to feel lightheaded because of the
blood loss.
"How's Willow?" he asked Kyle, shaking his head to stay conscious.
"In the hospital, which is where you're going right now, buddy," the tall
Texan told him, getting a shocked and worried look from the younger man.
Surrounding Oz's shoulders with his arm, Kyle allowed him to lean on his
stronger figure. "Don't worry, Oz, we'll take care of everything now, OK?
Everything's going to be alright."
As the young werewolf nodded weakly, leaning fully on him and closing his
cool blue eyes, Kyle smiled weakly and raised his head. He started shaking
his head with a notorious lack of amusement, when the Sunnydale Police
Department made its grand entrance, sirens and lights blasting in the cold
night.
Three patrol cars parked in front of the building, their tires screeching
on the asphalt as their drivers crossed them, blocking the street.
It wasn't until the officers started to get out of the vehicles and draw
their guns that Kyle thought about how he must look; holding a practically
naked, bleeding and severely wounded young man.
Not to mention that fact that he was still fencing a knife long enough to
be considered a sword. He closed his eyes, and cursed under his breath.
"Shit."
"Police officers!!" one of the cops shouted, aiming at him with his
pistol. "Let him go!"
Throwing his knife down, Kyle carefully leaned Oz's semi-unconscious form
against the near tree and lifted his arms.
"This is not what it looks like!" he exclaimed as a couple of officers
pulled him away from Oz and pushed him to the ground, burying his face in
the muddy grass.
The cops handcuffed his hands behind his back, and he grunted when the
fetters finally closed around his wrists. "Look you guys, I have an
explanation for all this."
"Yeah, and we'd love to hear it down at the precinct, buddy," the leading
officer said as he took Kyle's revolver from under his jacket. Yanking at
his hair to raise his head, the cop put the gun at a couple of inches from
his nose and smiled. "And I'd love to hear how you can explain this."
"I have a permit for that," the Texan growled, shaking his head to free
his hair from the officer's painful grasp. "Look in my back pocket, jerk.
I'm a Federal agent!"
The cops exchanged a short and shocked look, and then the leading officer
did as he was told, extracting a small leather wallet from the back pocket
of Kyle's jeans.
Opening it, he released a long whistle. "Well, guys," he told his
partners, showing them the FBI badge and ID card, "looks like he's telling
the truth, he's a Fed."
The cop smiled, and used the closed wallet to slap the back of Kyle's
head. "Then I guess you already know your rights, uh, Agent. Get him into
the car, guys."
As the cops made him stand up, painfully yanking at his handcuffed hands,
Kyle shook his head tiredly, growling between his clenched teeth. "Today's
definitely my lucky day."
~~~~~~
"What are you waiting for?" Cordelia asked Xander, seeing that he made no
sign of starting to chase the escaping Humvee.
Arching his brow, the young vampire simply killed the engine and the bike
became silent and quiet with a soft shake, as he freed up the brakes.
"What are you doing?" she asked again
"No, what are you doing, Cordy?" he asked back at her, his intense dark
eyes full of puzzlement. Taking her chin delicately on his hand, he gently
made her tilt her head to one side and the other, examining the bruised
and cuts on her face.
A low growl escaped his throat, and he frowned deeply. "And who's
responsible for this?"
She sighed tiredly, softly taking her chin away from his fingers and
looking straight at his eyes. "Don't worry about me, Xander. I can take
care of myself."
"Well, it doesn't look like it from this side, Cordy. Are you trying to
kill yourself, or what?"
Looking at him through half-closed eyes, Cordelia pointed at the way the
Humvee had disappeared to. "We don't have time for this, Xander. If you
want to have a fight, fine, but we'll have it later. Now they have the
cross, and they're escaping! So start this damn thing, and follow them!"
Xander looked briefly at the end of the street and them looked back at her
with perplexity. "The cross? What cross?"
Cordelia closed her eyes and shook her head, trying to keep her temper
under control. "The du Lac Cross," she practically growled at him under
her breath. "Those people took it, they almost killed us to get it!
The perplexity on his expression lasted for a few more moments, until the
lightbulb of recognition was finally switched on inside his head. "The
Cross-O-Matic?"
This time, it was Cordelia's expression that was the puzzled one. "The
what?"
Shaking his head, Xander started the engine of the bike, accelerating a
couple of times on the spot. "It doesn't matter," he murmured looking at
her over his shoulder and putting on his sunglasses. "But you're right
about one thing, Cordy. We'll talk about this later."
Without any warning, Xander yanked at the handlebars and, raising the
front wheel, he accelerated suddenly. Caught by surprise, Cordelia lost
her equilibrium and fell backwards.
The only thing she could do not to crash painfully against the hard
asphalt was to jump back and let the bike go away, knowing that if she
grabbed Xander and tried to stay on the seat she would only succeed in
being dragged along the ground.
"Xander!!" she yelled, shaking her arms awkwardly not to lost her footing.
Raising her eyes, she watched helplessly as the black and silver dragster
ran away from her, carrying her lover with it. "You'll pay for this,
Xander Harris!!"
Cursing under her breath, Cordelia turned around and started to run away,
wishing she could kick her boyfriend's butt.
If Xander had heard her, he didn't show any sign of it. The young vampire
just let the front wheel fall to the road and accelerated with a roar of
the powerful 4-cylinder engine, getting into the chase of the black
Humvee.
"And now," he growled as he crouched down behind the handlebars, allowing
the wind to ruffle his longish hair and flutter his leather jacket, "let's
go for the funny part."
~~~~~~
Tossing the grenade-launcher to the side, Havoc relaxed in the back seat
of the Humvee, leaning his head against the headrest and closing his eyes
while Backlash drove both of them home.
"I still can't believe it, buddy," the Australian mercenary said, shaking
his head. "I can't believe they killed Santero, he was one damn tough
bastard."
"Apparently he wasn't tough enough," the Scandinavian man muttered,
raising his eyes to the ceiling. He took the du Lac Cross in his hand, and
examined it closely. "At least we got this thing. I just hope it's worth
it."
Looking at him through the rear-view mirror, Backlash munched nervously on
his lower lip. "What are we going to tell the Colonel?"
Havoc shrugged, shaking his head. "The truth, I guess."
His companion didn't like how that sounded, but he abstained from making
any comment, knowing that it was neither the time or place. Whatever would
be, would be.
He just hoped it wouldn't end with a 9mm bullet in his forehead.
Backlash took the walkie-talkie from the dashboard, and pushed the
speaking button. "Daddy Goose? This is Receptor Team, we have the ball, I
repeat, we have the ball. Over."
"Hey, nice to hear from you at last!" Chopper's voice came with a snort of
sarcasm. "We saw the firecrackers, can you tell me what the hell you were
doing?"
"Throwing a party," The Australian growled. "Listen, we have casualties.
Santero's dead."
There was a moment of silent in the radio before the pilot's voice came
again, doubtful and incredulous. "Santero? Dead?"
"Yeah, dead! Don't make me repeat it again, OK?" Backlash told him with
annoyance. "We're going back to the mansion and we'll report there. You
just keep our path open."
A thousand feet above them, inside the cockpit of the black Huey
helicopter, Chopper checked the glowing green screens and monitors showing
him the images provided by the enhanced night-vision cameras and shook his
head.
"Well, buddy, in that case I should tell you something: you have a
parasite on your tail," he told the other man.
"What?" Instinctively, Backlash looked over his shoulder and Havoc
imitated him, checking the darkened road behind them through the rear
windshield.
The light of a single headlamp blinded him for a second, and Havoc had to
make an effort not to hit something in rage and frustration.
"Shit," he growled, recovering his weapon, "is this going to end any time
soon?"
Behind the steering wheel, Backlash shook his head, tossing the
walkie-talkie back on the dashboard and pressing down on the gas pedal.
"It doesn't look like it."
~~~~~~
With the road practically free of traffic once the darkness had fallen on
Sunnydale, Xander didn't need much time to get on the trail of the
escaping Humvee. The fact was that he was riding his Yamaha like a demon,
using the straight roadways to reach the bike's maximum speed and taking
the curves at the limit of its endurance.
To the point that every time he leaned down to one side of a curve, he
could hear the scratching and see the sparks flying, with the contact of
the exhaust pipes against the rough asphalt.
All the way, he considered the implications of what was happening. The du
Lac Cross? Why? And why now? Who could be responsible for what was going
on? What did they need the cross for? And what was the connection with
Faith's appearance? Was it a mere coincidence?
He didn't believe that. It had to be related.
But now, barely ten meters behind the black military vehicle he couldn't
help but smile smugly as he centered on the matter at hand. When he got
them, they were going to have a little nice talk.
And after that, he would see what he would do with them for hurting his
friends. He hadn't decided yet, but the idea of leaving them in Spike's
hands and turning around, was looking better and better with each passing
second.
Then, he remembered the bruises on Cordelia's face and the idea of Willow
being taken to the hospital, and decided that Spike wouldn't have all the
fun for himself.
Squeezing the gas control one last time, Xander speeded up and finally
reached the Humvee, moving to the vehicle's left. Riding side by side, he
held the handlebars with his right hand made an unmistakable sign towards
the two men inside the black off-road, indicating them to stop.
The man in the back seat, a huge blonde with red streaks of blood covering
his upper lip and cheeks, returned him the sign with his middle finger and
started to roll down the window.
Xander saw the weapon in his hands and released a resigned sigh, returning
his left hand to the handlebars and accelerating suddenly.
As Havoc leaned out the open window, ready to aim at the annoying young
man with his gun, the black Yamaha raised its front wheel and got ahead
the Humvee. Completely passing it and crossing the road from left to
right, to finally end up on the black vehicle's opposite side.
"Shit," Havoc growled, getting his large body out of the window, so he
could aim at the leather-clad biker over the Humvee's roof, "I'm going to
kick your ass to next week, kiddo!"
Looking at the vehicle over his shoulder and from behind his sunglasses,
Xander flipped his leather jacket open and, smiling evilly, brought his
left hand to the small of his back and the butt of his sidearm.
In a single movement, the young vampire drew out the H&K USP Compact and
braked with complete precision, engulfing the bike into a white cloud of
burnt rubber coming from the rear tire as it slid over the road,
completely blocked.
Moving at a suddenly superior speed, the Humvee passed in an exhalation by
his left and Xander pulled the trigger like a madman the moment it reached
his mark, using the black off-road's own movement to spray its surface
with a wave of flying bullets.
Inside, Havoc and Backlash dived down to the floor and covered their heads
as the rain of lead ripped golden sparks from the metallic surface of the
truck and shattered the windows into a thousand fragments of glass.
Free of its driver's hands, the Humvee began to lurch from one side of the
road to the other, its frame shaking every time the wheels hit the curb.
"What the...?!?" Backlash shouted, quickly grabbing the steering wheel and
regaining control of the vehicle.
Behind the black off-road, Xander freed up the brakes and accelerated
again, raising his pistol and emptying the rest of his 13-round magazine
into the back part of the Humvee.
The rear window exploded, covering the road with shattered fragments of
glass as the young vampire noticed the emergency fuel cans hanging from
their trappings and smiled evilly, firing his remaining shots against
them.
The cans blew up in a ball of fire that engulfed half the vehicle, and
lifted its rear axle off the ground. Unbalanced by the shock wave of the
explosion, the Humvee bounced wildly along the road, with its rear part
still in flames.
Returning the empty gun to its holster in the small of his back, Xander
pursued the off-road as it moved seemingly out of control, jumping over
the traffic island separating the lanes and getting into the exit leading
to the outskirts of the town.
=Good,= he thought, =at least I'll minimize the damage.=
Back into the Humvee, Havoc released his weapon and grabbed the fire
extinguisher, quickly using it to extinguish the flames before they
completely engulfed the vehicle.
"That guy's starting to really piss me off!" he roared, tossing the
extinguisher aside and recovering his weapon.
Backlash caught a glimpse of a sign, announcing the proximity of the local
mall as they passed it at top speed. The Australian mercenary spun the
steering wheel violently, forcing the vehicle to skid on the road and
taking the exit leading to the shopping complex.
"Let's see if he's so eager to use gunfire near civilians," he growled,
thinking that, of course, they wouldn't have the same problem.
Using the butt of the grenade-launcher to rip the broken remains of glass
from the window-frame, Havoc leaned out again and quickly aimed at Xander,
pulling the trigger.
"Oh, no," Xander cursed with a growl, seeing the flying grenade coming in
his direction in slow motion.
Braking, the young vampire swung the bike around and skidded laterally
like a dirt track rider, leaning down and keeping his equilibrium with his
extended leg. The projectile passed over his lowered head and blew up over
the empty road behind him, exploding into a ball of fire and dark smoke
that sent a cloud of razor-sharp shrapnel in every direction.
As a tiny but burning piece of shrapnel opened a bleeding line on his
right cheek, Xander used the momentum of the explosion to complete the
spin and, with his rear wheel emitting white smoke, accelerated on the
trail of the black Humvee.
"Who is that guy?" Havoc asked amazed, as Backlash drove the Humvee into
the ample parking lot of the mall by the wrong lane, almost crashing
against a Volvo station-wagon that was innocently trying to come out.
"Evel Kneivel?"
Behind them, the driver of the Volvo did a violent maneuver to dodge the
Humvee and ended up at the entrance of the parking lot, crashing against
the guard's empty stand.
The stand collapsed into a pile of broken boards of wood and plastic as
the Volvo's engine died, blocking the entrance completely and making
Xander jam on the brakes not to crash against them.
Skidding sideways again, the young vampire managed to stop the Yamaha
barely a couple of inches from the family car.
"Move it!" Xander shouted to the driver of the Volvo, a man on his late
forties who looked at him with frightened eyes.
Over the station wagon's roof, the young vampire saw helplessly how the
Humvee got farther and farther away towards the mall as, through the
broken rear window, Havoc waved him goodbye with a wide smile. "Federal
agent, get this piece of junk out of my way!"
The driver of the Volvo nodded weakly and twisted the key inside the
ignition, but the car's engine refused to come back to life, coughing and
shaking.
Clenching his teeth and stifling a curse, Xander took a fast look around,
checking the position of the Humvee, his own vehicle, the tall wire-fence
surrounding the parking lot and the rows of cars still parked on them.
Sighing, Xander shook his head. "I gotta be losing my head," he whispered
as he squeezed the gas control and rode away from the Volvo for several
tens of meters, before turning around and facing the fence.
Reaching out to the small of his back, he drew out the USP Compact and
released its empty clip, quickly getting a fresh one from the pocket of
his leather jacket and driving it into the butt of the gun. He let out a
long sigh, and closed his eyes for a second.
"I have completely lost it," he growled, as he revved up the engine.
The bike was launched forward like a missile towards the tall fence, the
space separating them getting shorter and shorter with every turn of the
wheels.
Clenching his teeth, Xander lifted his gun and fired four times, hitting
twice each one of the two upper links joining the first panel to the tall
posts holding it.
The impact of the bullets ripped the links away from the panel and, when
the bike's front wheel impacted against it, the panel fell forward until
it crashed with the roof of the nearest parked car, ending like a ramp.
Xander drove the Yamaha over the make-shift ramp at top speed, flying into
the air when he reached its end and tracing out a perfect arc. Until the
young vampire landed on the rear wheel with a scream of protest from the
vehicle's suspension, and a shake of the whole structure.
Leaving behind the blocked entrance, Xander sped in search of the black
Humvee and finally found it some yards ahead of his position, moving at
more speed than what should be safe for the pedestrians nearby as its
driver searched for an exit from the parking lot.
As Xander pursued the off-road vehicle, the people who were coming out of
the near mall with all their purchases, completely oblivious to what was
going outside, ran away from the path of the huge truck.
It seemed to them to have a liking for the exposed parts of the parked
cars, so many times it was crashing against them.
"Aaaarrgh!!" Backlash shouted in frustration, violently spinning the
wheel. "Where's the bloody exit?"
"Why don't you stop and ask a cop, mate?" Havoc asked him with a grimace
of hostility, as his partner's mad handling sent him bouncing from one
side of the back seat to the other.
Taking a look outside, he noticed the leather-clad biker getting
dangerously near to them, again in pursuit. "Oh, hell," he groaned,
"doesn't he ever get tired?"
~~~~~~
On the nightly sky above the mall, the black Huey was almost invisible as
its pilot made its nose-dive down and lost height. In the cockpit, Chopper
checked the different screens and monitors and shook his head with a mix
of wonder and amusement, seeing the chaos and mayhem that his partners
were causing in the parking lot.
"Those two couldn't find their own butts," he groaned through the
microphone of his helmet.
In the cargo area behind him, Sniper nodded his agreement as he secured
himself, fastening a safety cord from his belt to a steel ring on the
frame of the sliding side door.
"Not even using both hands and a mirror," the gunman said with a smile, as
he opened the door and a wave of cold air came into the helicopter along
with the thundering rattle of the rotors.
"Get lower," he said as he took off the safety of his sniper rifle and
brought its butt against his shoulder, "and I'll take care of the guy in
black."
Chopper nodded without answering him and pushed the altitude lever down,
making the aircraft lose height once more. Licking his lips and smiling,
Sniper observed the scenery of the parking lot through the lens of the
rifle's scope.
His cold eyes needed just a second to get accustomed to the difference,
and a few moments later the unwavering muzzle of the Dragunov SVD was
aiming at the young biker's figure, the crosshairs placed right on his
head.
"So there you are," Sniper whispered with a wide, sadistically pleased
smile as his finger curved on the trigger, "come to Daddy..."
~~~~~~
Xander's sharp vampire ears detected the sound of the helicopter's rotor
blades, but it was a different sixth sense what made him risk a fast look
up over his shoulder, the feeling of being watched, of having someone
breathing directly down his neck.
Arching his brow in wonder, he found the insect-like aircraft about 150
feet above and behind him, quickly descending over the parking lot and,
half a second later, he noticed the weapon pods at both sides.
Obviously it wasn't a civilian aircraft, and he doubted very much that he
was coming in to help him.
=Another piece of the puzzle,= he thought as he violently made the bike
turn to the left, passing through the narrow space between two parked
cars. A wave of bullets started to rain down around him, shattering the
cars' glass windows and opening small rounded holes on their metallic
frames.
Jamming on the brakes, Xander stopped the bike between the two cars and,
keeping his head down, he took off his sunglasses and released a long
tired sigh as he wiped the sweat from his forehead.
Putting the shades back on, the young vampire looked over the edge of the
car's roof and saw the helicopter positioning over the rows of parked
cars, a man on its side acting as a gunner with a sniper rifle.
He calculated the distance between them and estimated that it couldn't be
less than seventy meters, too much for anyone of his handguns and, at the
same time, just a walk through the park for the shooter's rifle.
Biting his lower lip, Xander lowered his head as the helicopter's gunner
read his thoughts and fired once again, the bullet hitting the roof of the
car and ripping sparks from it.
Looking around, Xander located the black Humvee at the end of the lane in
front of him. It was lost in the maze of the parking lot and turning
around once again, with its fat tires engulfed in white clouds of smoke.
=Time to raise the stakes a little,= the young vampire thought, as he
turned his head to look at the car parked at his left, an aged Ford LTD
with a rusty but thick frame.
=Time, indeed,= he repeated to himself as he punched the window of the
passenger's door with his bare fist, shattering the glass into a thousand
pieces.
Grabbing the lower edge of the window, oblivious to the pain that been
caused in his hand by the broken fragments of glass, Xander ripped the
whole door from the frame and turned it around so he could grab it by the
interior handle.
Then, he accelerated and came out of his hiding spot in a new cloud of
burnt rubber.
Riding like a dark, postmodern version of a medieval knight on a hellish
horse, Xander used the makeshift shield to cover himself from the shots of
the helicopter's gunner as he sped towards the black Humvee.
He engaged the much bigger vehicle in a match to the death, the two of
them face to face and getting dangerously closer with each passing
heartbeat.
"Stupid," Backlash growled behind the steering wheel, slamming down on the
gas. "Crazy, suicidal son of a..."
The powerful engine of the Humvee roared, and the bike's muscled one
howled as the two vehicles closed the distance separating them in a flash.
With his eyes fixed on the front fender of the Humvee, Xander ignored the
shots raining around him.
They hit his makeshift shield and made it tremble in his grasp, but all
his attention was focused on the black off-road coming to him at the speed
of light.
Fifty meters, forty, thirty, twenty, ten...
At the last moment Xander moved to the right, getting out of the truck's
path as he swung his arm and threw the pierced and ripped-off door against
the windshield of the vehicle.
The thick door impacted against the front window with an explosion of
glass and metal fragments that blinded the driver, turning the whole
surface into a large web of cracks.
Xander, even after completely passing the Humvee, skillfully made his bike
turn around, now using the off-road's own frame as a shield against the
helicopter.
For a second, as he took his eyes away from the road and looked up through
the driver's window, Xander saw the face of the man behind the wheel,
turned towards him and wearing a mix or shock, rage and hate.
Allowing his human mask to vanish, the young vampire sent a hard stare to
the mercenary with his golden eyes blazing over the dark rim of his
sunglasses, and a half-arrogant smile that showed in his sharp and pointed
fangs.
In Xander's modest opinion, the expression on the man's face was
priceless.
~~~~~~
=The Devil,= Backlash thought, opening and closing his eyes to make sure
that was he was seeing was real. Havoc awkwardly crawled between the front
seats and bent his legs, so he could kick the door sticking through the
broken windshield off of the Humvee's hood.
They were being chased by Satan himself. That was the only explanation he
could think of that satisfied him, because any other one didn't fit.
"What the hell are you doing, Backlash?" he heard Havoc asking him with
high-pitched voice. "Look ahead!"
As if he had heard his partner, the golden-eyed, dark-haired demon
signaled ahead with his index finger, still giving him a cocky grin, and
returned his hand to the black and silver bike's handlebars, accelerating
and passing them with mocking ease.
Shocked by the entire situation, the Australian mercenary could only
follow the biker's figure as the Yamaha crossed the road in front of them
to their right side, and his attention was captured his customized license
plate, hanging lopsided under the bike's taillight:
CALIFORNIA - XAND16.
The dark-haired biker, his face human again, flashed a new smile at him
that was no less cocky and edged than the one of his demonic self. Then he
braked without warning, allowing him to get away seemingly without any new
attempt to stop him.
"I told you to look ahead!!" Havoc roared at that very moment, shaking him
out of his reverie.
"What the..."
The Australian mercenary finally looked ahead, only to see the wide glass
doors of the mall's main entrance barely two meters from the hood of the
vehicle he was driving.
Two meters that vanished in the blink of an eye.
"Oooh," Backlash heard his companion moan as the Humvee bounced on the
tiny step in from of the door and jumped up, flying through them as they
exploded into a cascade of tiny but sharp fragments, the sound from the
impact covered by the engine's mighty roar.
"You're an idiot, Backlash! An idiot, you stupid son of a bitch!!"
"Hey!" The Australian man told his companion as the off-road landed with a
final bounce and he fought to keep control, "Don't diss my mother!!"
Backlash drove the Humvee into the spacious main hallway of the mall, not
caring less about the people remaining there as he slammed down on the gas
with all his strength.
He couldn't help but smile, although he couldn't hear their screams,
silenced by the powerful sound of the engine and the thunder of his blood
in his eardrums. But their panicked faces as they jumped out of the
massive off-road's way, were worthy of being remembered.
"Oh, man, I wish I had a camera," he chuckled, genuinely amused as the
front fender crashed against a big flower pot, cracking it open into an
explosion of broken plaster and flying chunks of soggy earth.
The plant, a small palm tree, fell on the hood of the Humvee and was
flipped over its roof when Backlash spun the steering wheel to the right.
He dodged the line of decorating flower pots and benches that formed a row
in the center of the hallway, moving now in the right lane they formed.
"Yeah," Havoc growled, looking at him sideways and with hostility, "we
could star in America's Most Sadistic Videos or something. Could you just
get us outta here, please?"
"Sure, mate," the Australian nodded, looking at the rear-view mirror, "the
moment you get that guy off my ass."
Havoc turned his head to look over his shoulder, and saw the dark-haired
biker arriving into the mall behind them. His black Yamaha was flying some
inches over the polished floor as its front wheel bounced on the step on
the entrance, before finally landing with a loud thud and a soft screech
from its suspension.
Closing his eyes, the Scandinavian man released a low curse under his
breath. "That guy," he growled, "is taking this way too far!"
Chuckling, Backlash nodded his agreement. "He is a real die-hard, isn't
he?"
As looked at the biker over the headrest of his seat, Havoc grabbed his
grenade-launcher and opened its revolver-like chambers. Loading an
incendiary projectile on the first chamber, the mercenary closed it with a
loud snap of its lock and leaned outside through the open window.
"Not for long," Havoc murmured, aiming at the floor between the biker and
their own vehicle.
He pulled the trigger and the grenade came out of the launch tube in a
dark cloud of smoke, flying directly towards Xander's upcoming figure.
=Haven't we already done this before?= the young vampire thought in the
space of a heartbeat, his enhanced vampire vision making him see
everything as if in slow motion.
Then, the grenade touched ground and exploded into a big ball of fire that
reached from one side of the hallway to the other, the flames rising up
into a wall that divided the way into two separated parts.
"Son of a...!" Xander cursed out loud, slamming on the brakes at the same
that he swung the bike around and skidded laterally once more, getting
dangerously close to the wall of flames in spite of the quickly decreasing
speed of his Yamaha.
Clenching his teeth, knowing he had to take the risk or lose the game,
Xander leaned down and allowed his bike to completely fall down,
swallowing a scream of pain when his leg was trapped between the still
sliding vehicle and the floor beneath.
Reaching out, he extended his arm and dug his claws into the floor,
leaving parallel marks on the polished floor as he used them to decrease
his speed. Sparks flew at the contact of his nails with the fake marble,
until he finally stopped at no more than a couple of feet from the flaming
obstacle.
The intensity of the heat made the display windows from the nearby shops
explode, flooding the hallway with a rain of shattered glasses as their
contents started to burn.
As the fire extinguishers in the ceiling were finally activated, the
interior of the mall was suddenly submerged in a deluge and Xander, still
lying on the floor, crawled awkwardly from under his overturned bike.
He grimaced in pain, feeling his kneecap shattered and waited for a few
seconds, breathing heavily as the artificial pouring rain drenched him to
the bones and his broken bones started to rearrange by themselves inside
the torn and bloodied leg of his black jeans.
"Oww!! Damn!!" he screamed as his leg twisted of its own volition and his
knee got into place. "That hurts!"
The young vampire stood up slowly as the spray from the fire extinguishers
fought with the fire, slowly extinguishing it. Looking through the
decaying wall of flames, feeling his wet hair and his drenched clothes
plastered to his body, Xander released a low growl from the innermost
depths of his being.
He took off his sunglasses, and examined its crackled lenses and twisted
bridge.
"I really liked these ones," he whispered, discarding them and yanking at
the handlebars of his bike to make it stand up.
Riding the Yamaha again, Xander started its engine and sped away from the
firewall, the rear tire sending a spray of pulverized water from the pools
formed in the floor.
Before, he had just been angry. He accelerated back toward the entry and
the twin sets of automatic escalators leading to the second floor, the
blaze burning in his still golden eyes betrayed by the stoic tenseness on
his handsome human face, hard as stone.
Now, he was furious, and that wasn't a good thing. Not for anybody.
~~~~~~
To be continued...
Written by Nick Midian
Content beta-reading and storyline suggestions by Duncan
English grammar, spelling, slang, Highlander continuity and general
corrections by Theo
French slang, content beta-reading and storyline suggestions by Mash
French slang by Alan
EMAIL: jcaballero@euskalnet.net
SPOILERS: For Buffy the Vampire Slayer: 3rd season, BUT no Xander/Willow
kissing and no Lover's Walk (welcome to the wonderful State of Denial,
Land of 'Shippiness). Hmmm, I've messed with the third season's timeline
to accommodate it to my necessities. Let's just say that 'Band Candy'
happened a lot later than it did, around the first days of February, OK?
For Highlander: None really, the characters of the TV series and films are
only tangentially mentioned. You just need to know the basics of
Highlander-style immortality, BUT I've always thought that whole
'Immortals have no parents and are found in a little basket' is a... um,
the Spanish word for it is 'chorrada', so let's just ignore it, OK?
KEYWORDS: Romance, Angst, Action-adventure, Violence, Alternate Universe,
Crossover.
RATING: PG-13 with some mild R parts for violence and sexual innuendo.
DISCLAIMER: This story has been written with no intention of profit,
merely for the pleasure of writing and sharing it.
The concept and characters of BTVS (Buffy, Angel, Cordelia, Xander,
Willow, Oz, Giles, Joyce, Spike, Drusilla, Snyder, Faith, Harmony, Lyle
Gorch, Quentin Travers and the rest) are intellectual and legal property
of Joss Whedon, Warner Brothers, Mutant Enemy, etc. Also, the concept of
Highlander and the characters mentioned here (Duncan MacLeod, Amanda
Darieux, Richie Ryan, Joe Dawson and the Society of Watchers) are the
property of Panzer-Davis and Rysher Entertainment.
Michael Deveraux, Rachel Curran, Crystal Parker, Kyle White Owl, Robert
Coltrane, Elvis the Dog, Broderick Egoyan, Damon Frost, Mr. Smith, the
World Committee for Civil Defense and the rest are my own creation.
All the songs and lyrics here are used without permission, they are
copyright of their respective rights owners.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: Please, understand that English is not my native language,
so any grammatical or spelling errors are my fault, not of any one of my
wonderful beta-readers. If you're thinking of sending any flames, please
be kind with me. I'm a grown man, but I still can cry like a child,
believe me.
SUMMARY: Broderick Egoyan has carefully chosen the right moment to strike,
when friends are against friends and all trust seems about to vanish
between Slayerettes and Archangels. It's right when you think things
couldn't get worse that they get worse.
And now, on with the show. Fasten your seat belts ladies and gentlemen,
because it's going to be a long, hard and jumpy ride...
~~~~~~
The cast for Book III
Nicholas Brendon as Xander Harris
Charisma Carpenter as Cordelia Chase
Sarah Michelle Gellar as Buffy Summers
David Boreanaz as Angel
Alyson Hannigan as Willow Rosenberg
Seth Green as Daniel 'Oz' Osborne
Anthony Stewart Head as Rupert Giles
Kristine Sutherland as Joyce Summers
Matthew Perry as Michael Deveraux
Paula Trickey as Rachel Curran
James Marsters as Spike
Nikki Cox as Crystal Parker
David James Elliott as Kyle White Owl
Elvis the Dog as Himself
Eliza Dushku as Faith Adams
Donald Sutherland as The Old Chess Player, Broderick Egoyan
Sebastian Spence as Damon Frost
Avery Brooks as Mr. Smith
Amy Chance as Aphrodesia
Persia White as Aura
Alan Rickman as Conrad Swann
Wesley Snipes as Talon Pantera
Dennis Rodman as Rush Pantera
Tom Berenger as Colonel Cabbot Ashe
Michael Ironside as The Sergeant
Benjamin Bratt as Santero
Trevor Goddar as Backlash
Dolph Lundgren as Havoc
Rob Rowland as Chopper
Jake Busey as Sniper
Shaquille O'Neal as Beast
Matthew Ferguson as Chip
Bill Paxton as Major Stephen Marsden, USAF
Tom Sizemore as Master Sergeant Ricky Perkins, USAF
John Leguizamo as Airman First Class Charlie Martinelli, USAF
Mario Lopez as Airman First Class Alonso 'Bear' Vasquez, USAF
Patrick Labyorteaux as Sergeant Edwin Walters, USAF
Richard Dean Anderson as Col. Jack O'Neill, USAF
Michael Shanks as Dr. Daniel Jackson
Amanda Tapping as Maj. Samantha Carter, USAF
Christopher Judge as Teal'c
Don S. Davis as Gen. George Hammond, USAF
Teryl Rothery as Dr. Janet Fraiser
Tom McBeath as Col. Harry Mayborne, USAF
Peter Deluise as Airman Shepard, USAF
with
Kevin Spacey as Robert Coltrane
Nicholas Lea as Jonah Whalls
and
Catherine Zeta-Jones as the Lady in Red
~~~~~~
"You have an obstacle ahead, Xan," Kyle's voice came through the speaker
in his ear, needlessly warning him. "And it doesn't look like he's going
to slow down any time soon."
In spite of his dark sunglasses, Xander's sensitive vampire eyes were
suddenly blinded when the Humvee's powerful anti-fog headlamps were
switched on, and he had to take his eyes away for a brief second, blinking
repeatedly to extinguish the stars shining behind his eyelids.
This meant that he couldn't notice the man appearing through the
rolled-down window, until it was almost too late.
"Xander!!" Kyle roared through the radio, making him rise his eyes from
the blurred asphalt.
Havoc's South African grenade launcher had a compact MAC-11 submachine-gun
attached under the barrel, replacing the front handle. And as he aimed
directly at the young vampire on his bike, the Scandinavian mercenary
opened up with automatic fire, sending a wave of bullets in his direction.
As he shifted unconsciously into his game face, his handsome features
filling with ridges and planes and feeling his sharp fangs under his upper
lip, Xander cursed under his breath. He yanked at the bike's handlebars
with all his unnatural strength, raising the front wheel of the Yamaha and
using the massive block of the engine as a cover.
Speeding at more than 80 mph on its rear wheel, the muscled bike received
the impacts of the bullets: which ripped golden sparks from the metal,
before Xander let the front wheel fall back to the ground when the
mercenary stopped firing against him.
The young vampire cursed again, finding himself practically over the hood
of the upcoming Humvee, with very little time and space to react.
In the space of a heartbeat, Xander took one look at the scene, the
Humvee's massive body speeding towards him, boring down the middle of the
road, the rows of cars parked at both sides of the street and the almost
too-narrow space between them and the military vehicle.
And the grenade-launcher, again directly aimed against his person. His
sharp eyes captured all this and, in the space of a nanosecond, he made a
decision.
"I'm going to the right!" he shouted into the microphones around his
throat as he turned into said direction. And he did it so violently, that
the bike groaned at the very limits of its tires' performance.
"Hear ya!" Kyle exclaimed, veering to the left at the very moment in which
Havoc pulled the trigger of the grenade launcher, and a 37mm explosive
projectile came straight at them.
The grenade passed through the empty space left by the two moving vehicles
and impacted against a parked Chrysler, making it blow up into a ball of
fire and flying shrapnel as its metallic frame flew off the ground,
twisting and screaming in metallic torture.
"Wow!" the Texan exclaimed looking at the explosion through the rearview
mirror, as the interior of his car filled with the crackling yellows and
reds of the fire. "What a blast!"
The black Humvee followed the trail of the grenade as Xander passed by its
right like an exhalation and Kyle did the same by the opposed side,
although the tall Texan barely had enough space to introduce his
cherry-red Pathfinder between the military vehicle and the row of parked
cars.
Leaning his head to one side, the young vampire dodged the exterior mirror
of the vehicle by a too-short inch. When he finally passed the car,
fighting to control the bike in the middle of the turbulence caused by the
massive Humvee, Xander twisted the handlebars violently.
He side-swiped the Yamaha and skidded laterally on its smoking tires for
several meters, until he finally stopped and made it turn around.
Kyle, on the contrary, didn't have as much luck. The space for his vehicle
was so short that the passenger's side mirror crashed against the Humvee's
one, the two of them shattering into flying pieces as the two sides of
both vehicles scratched against each other, eliciting sparks with the
contact.
Then, when he was about to leave the Humvee behind, its driver twisted the
steering wheel violently, making its rear side crash against Kyle's own
vehicle.
Since the military vehicle was way heavier than his luxury SUV, the
cherry-red Pathfinder was sent against the row of parked cars. It spun
around madly, as its driver unsuccessfully tried to control it.
"Son of a..." Kyle growled under his breath, seeing how the line of cars
was now dangerously close. "Cris, hold onto some-"
His voice died in his lips as the red-haired witch made a complex sign
with her hands, muttering something intelligible through her perfect,
crimson lips.
The Pathfinder collided against the row of parked cars and the force of
the impact raised the off-road vehicle's body off the ground, as it spun
madly in the middle of the noise of shattering glass and breaking metal.
When Kyle's head banged against the steering wheel painfully, the Texan
released a yelp of pain but his exclamation quickly faded away as the
interior of the vehicle filled suddenly with a strange white foam that
blinded his eyes and got into his mouth, silencing him.
The strange foam, surprisingly warm, thickened and turned solid in a
heartbeat, rendering the Texan and the witch motionless, preventing them
from making any movement at the same time that it protected their bodies
from the blows and the impacts of the accident.
As the car crashed upside-down, flattening several innocent cars in the
process and finally remaining still, Kyle started to move. He pushed at
the solid foam around him until he managed to rip off a large chunk of it
and move his head out the shattered window, taking greedy breaths of fresh
air and spitting the remains of the tasteless foam from his mouth.
Awkwardly crawling out of the synthetic hug of the foam, he got out on his
knees and reached into the hole with his right arm, until his hand closed
around Crystal's wrist and he started to yank at it, bringing the witch
out of the crashed vehicle.
"What the hell was that?" he asked her, as he helped her to her feet and
checked that she wasn't wounded. "Some kind of magical meringue?"
"Something like that," she coughed, nodding and giving him a shy smile. "A
protection spell. I hadn't tried it since I was an apprentice, I wasn't
sure it would work."
Giving her a twisted, non-amused smile, Kyle knelt down by the Pathfinder
and dug into the solid foam until he managed to uncover the weapon's rack
attached to the ceiling and got his combat shotgun from it.
"Kyle? Cris?" Xander's worried voice came from their headphones. "I can't
see you, are you alright?"
Looking over the upside-down vehicle, the Texan located the young vampire
practically at the end of the street and gave him a thumbs-up sign. "Yeah,
a little shaken but we're alright otherwise. Hey, those jerks are getting
away, are you gonna let that happen?"
Across the street, Xander arched his vampire brow. "I was about to..." Out
of the corner of his eye, he noticed some movement and he turned his head
as the main, and tattered, door of Giles' duplex apartment opened.
A disheveled Cordelia came out of the building, running towards him at a
fast pace, looking like something that the cat had just spat out and
wielding a nasty black steel Beretta 92FS Brigadier.
"Wait a moment," he whispered, allowing his human mask to return and
taking off his sunglasses.
Cordelia walked to him and Xander arched his brow expectantly, as his
lover climbed onto the bike's seat behind him.
"What?" she asked with annoyance, noticing his inquiring stare. "You can't
expect me to be like dressed to the nines 24/7, can you?"
~~~~~~
Barely a couple of minutes before, as the two mercenaries retreated away
from the apartment, covering themselves behind a wall of gunshots,
Cordelia was kneeling down beside the desk.
Biting her lower lip not to scream in frustration and rage, while her
cover was torn apart by the bullets fired against her.
Sighing, trying to calm down and slow her fast-racing pulse, Cordelia
leaned back against the desk and her thumb ejected her borrowed pistol's
clip, allowing her to check how many bullets she had left.
Five in the magazine plus one more in the chamber made a total of six,
which wasn't exactly something to write home about. Returning the clip to
the butt of the gun, she clenched her teeth and shook her head.
Things weren't turning out well but, at least, she noticed the gunshots
against her seemed to have stopped.
Steeling herself, the young brunette dared to raise her head and took a
look over the edge of the desk, her wide eyes scanning the semi-darkness
of the office and adjacent living-room, the shapeless forms of the broken
furniture and the hallway leading to the main entrance.
She found no trace of the mercenaries and guessed that, at last, they had
chosen the better part of valor and decided to retreat now that they had
obtained what they were looking for.
She was starting to get up from the floor when suddenly something leaped
out of the shadows of the living-room, and a massive figure landed on top
of the desk, making her recoil in surprise and fall back to the floor in
her already pained behind.
The humanoid form crouched down over the desk predatorily, and hissed at
her, spraying saliva and blood everywhere from his open, fanged jaws. His
feline features, accentuated by the horrible wound that had scarred the
left side of his face, were certainly scary.
But Cordelia had been a full-time Slayerette for years now, and had seen
things that made Rush Pantera look like nothing more than a side-show
freak in a Southern fair.
No, the time for terrified and hysterical screaming had passed long ago
for her and this time, as often before, she didn't allow panic to
overwhelm her. And, although she was as scared as she probably ever could
be, she kept her blood cold and her mind clear.
"Hiss your mother, you freak!" she shouted at him angrily.
Letting herself completely fall to the floor, Cordelia pushed with her
bare feet against the desk, sliding on her back away from the feline man
as she raised her gun and fired repeatedly against him, emptying the clip
on his figure.
Rush shook like a leaf in the middle of a hurricane as the lead bullets
hit him squarely in the chest, piercing his heart and lungs and sending
him flying backwards from the surface of the desk.
Getting to her feet, Cordelia rounded the torn piece of furniture, aiming
at the man's fallen figure with her empty gun. On the floor, moaning and
whining, Rush was still twisting as he profusely bled from his wounds.
The young brunette aimed at his head and pulled the trigger, but the
Beretta clicked empty and she released a colorful curse as she looked at
the open slide and the dark void of the empty chamber.
"Cordelia!" Giles' voice came then from the top of the tattered staircase.
She turned towards him and the British Watcher started to climb down the
stair cautiously, trying not to stumble upon any of the steps torn apart
by the bullets.
"I-I thought you would need this," he told her with an uneasy smile,
throwing a small bulk to her that the brunette caught in mid-air. A full
9mm clip. "I got it from... the man upstairs."
"Thanks," she said simply, avoiding his intense green eyes as she ejected
the empty clip and replaced it with the fresh one. Pulling at the weapon,
she released the gun's slide, which chambered a new round into the
chamber.
Before she could go away, Giles grabbed her by the dirty fabric of her
blouse. She stopped and turned around, looking at him silent and
expectantly.
Giles arched his brow, and sighed tiredly. "You're not going to step back
away from this, no matter what I tell you, are you?"
Cordelia managed a sad smile, before shaking her head. "I've gone too far
for that, Giles. And you can't protect me, not anymore." She pointed at
the squirming man on the floor with her chin. "Would you...?"
Nodding, Giles closed his eyes. "Y-yes, I will take care of him, Cordelia.
You just... be careful, OK?"
She smiled again, this time for real, and quickly pecked him on the cheek
before turning around and starting to run toward the exit, once more on
the proverbial chase.
Pinching the bridge of his nose tiredly, Giles sighed again and looked
down at the man at his feet. "What am I going to do with you, my friend?"
he asked with resignation.
The only sound coming from the wounded feline man, was a cry of pain.
~~~~~~
"One of these days we're going to have a long talk about your wardrobe,
Cris," Kyle told her with a smile. He observed how the red-haired witch
had to roll up the lower part of her white robe, so she could keep up with
her friend's fast pace and not stumble upon it.
In the process she had bared her long and smooth legs, much to the Texan's
viewing pleasure. "Do I hear any complaints?" she asked with a half-smile.
He chuckled, and shook his head. "Speaking as a hot-blooded male, not at
all. But you have to admit that those clothes are hardly what you can
call... tactically adequate."
"Oh, and that coming from a man who wears Duffy Duck underwear."
Kyle's jaw hung loose, as he looked at her in ashamed astonishment. "How
did you know...?"
Bringing a slender finger to her smiling lips, Crystal shushed him. "Shh,
do you hear that?"
"What? I just-"
She silenced him by covering his mouth with her hand and the tall Texan
rolled his blue eyes before he, at the witch's determined stare, sighed
and tilted his head to one side and the other. Kyle finally heard
something; something that, for the lack of a better word, was completely
animalistic.
Grunts. Growls. Hisses...
As he nodded to his companion without uttering a word, the two of them
resumed their jog towards the building and, just as they were about to
round the corner, Kyle stopped dead in his tracks, raising his arm to
indicate Crystal that she do the same.
"I feel a strong source of power nearby," the red-haired witch whispered
at him as the Texan carefully leaned on the corner and took a cautious
look. "We should... Kyle, are you even listening to me?"
The truth was, he wasn't. He couldn't, as all of his attention was
centered on the two supernatural beasts fighting some yards away from
them, their huge hairy bodies moving between the trees of the garden, dark
shadows that flowed like quicksilver in the still air of the night.
The large red-haired werewolf, with his claws and fangs shining under the
pale moonlight, his hairy body crisscrossed by one-too-many cuts, his
reddish locks drenched with his own blood, was a perfect machine of
destruction.
Kyle saw him grabbing a thin tree and ripping it from its roots with only
one hand, using it afterwards to keep its adversary at bay, swinging it as
if it was a baseball bat.
It was a scary image, but it wasn't what made Kyle's blood freeze inside
his veins. It wasn't what made something inside his stomach ache so much,
that he thought he was going to vomit. It wasn't what made his soul bleed.
Frozen on the spot, he couldn't help but remember a time long ago, a voice
and a piece of advice that a man he had considered more family than friend
had once given him. And, now, the truth in his words was so evident that
it hurt.
=Revenge is a weapon that always backfires on you.=
As his darkened blue eyes followed the movements of the black-furred man
and he fought the sting of tears, Kyle White Owl released a painful sigh
and took the safety off of his combat shotgun, pumping a fresh cartridge
into the chamber.
"Cris," he whispered to the witch at his side with a voice that was barely
recognizable as his own. "Go by the back, check the interior. I'll take
care of this."
Looking at him through half-closed eyes, Crystal shook her head, not
liking at all the tone on her friend's voice, the sudden paleness of his
expression and, above all, the way in which his green-brown aura was
shape-shifting, darkening and shining with the unmistakable traces of an
overwhelming rage.
"I don't think that's-"
"Just do it!" Kyle shouted at her harshly, looking at her shorter frame
over his shoulder. The rage in his blazing blue eyes was so intense, that
it made the witch recoil in shock.
The Texan sighed again and, closing his eyes, shook his head. "I'm sorry,
but I'll take care of this, OK? You just go into the house and check that
everybody's alright."
"As you say," she whispered, her expression guarded and a little cold.
Kyle wished he had the time, or the ability, to explain her what was going
through his head, but he knew he was painfully short of both things. He
just had to take care of everything as it was not only his responsibility,
but his fate as well.
"Be careful," he whispered at her as she turned around and started to walk
away. Crystal stopped, and looked at him over her white-clad shoulder. The
red-haired witch managed to produce a weak smile for him and nodded,
before resuming her walk and disappearing around the corner.
Turning to the two fighting beasts, Kyle gulped down a thick knot that had
formed inside his throat and started to walk towards them, his eyes fixed
on the feline man, following each one of his movements.
=Bury the dead,= he thought, as his grandfather used to say. =Bury the
dead and dwell with the living, but never close your ears to the words of
those who have preceded you.=
"Damn it, Grandpa," he whispered to himself, smiling at the dear memory of
Jake White Owl, "I wish you were here, and I wish you'd told me what to do
with those that don't want to stay buried."
Kyle was at less than ten yards from the werewolf and his adversary, when
he raised his Benelli M3 SWAT and fired a single shot to the dark sky
above. The gunshot thundered in the quiet air, killing the soft grunts and
growls of the two supernatural beasts and making them turn around to look
at him with similar blazing eyes.
In the darkness of the night, their eyes flamed like fireflies, stabbing
his human figure with their intense stares. But, if the tall Texan felt
intimidated in any way about them, nothing in his stance or in his
expression betrayed his cold composure.
Lowering his shotgun, Kyle pumped the weapon again, ejecting a red shell
and loading a new one into the chamber.
"Oz," he acknowledged the red-haired werewolf, nodding softly in his
direction, "nice new look, pretty claws."
As his only response, the werewolf threw the ripped tree away and released
a low growl. Then, he retreated a couple of steps, crouching down and
looking alternately at his enemy and the recent arrived human, knowing,
feeling that he had to wait for new developments.
Slowly, he started to lick his wounds where the feline man's claws had cut
his flesh.
Kyle moved his eyes from Oz, to settle them on the feline as the man
looked back at him, breathing heavily because of the effort of the fight
but smiling widely, showing his rows of pointed teeth.
"Talon," Kyle whispered, nodding at him. "It's been a long time."
"Too long, favorite son of the tribe," the black man growled as he took
off the torn remains of his leather jacket and carelessly threw them away.
His broad chest and thick arms were as slashed and covered in blood as the
werewolf's, but it seemed like that didn't bother the feline-man at all.
In fact, all that seemed to exist in the world right then was the tall man
wielding a shotgun in front of him. "Tooo long. But all roads make a
circle. Here we are, as always, right at the beginning, right at the end."
He crouched down and smiled, baring his fangs. "As always, Kyle White Owl,
son of Edward, grandson of Jacob."
Nodding, Kyle took a short look around. "Where's your brother, Talon?
Hanging from some hunter's wall, I hope."
Talon laughed, which was more a hiss than a human sound. "Near he is. But
about him don't you worry, favorite son. Worry about me."
Arching his brow, Kyle gave him a cocky smile. "Who said I'm worried?"
With a powerful roar as only warning, Talon leaped to him, his arms
extended and ready to rip the human's tender flesh with his sharp claws.
But his jump was cut painfully short as Kyle pulled the trigger of his
shotgun, and a cloud of fire, smoke and buckshot erupted from the muzzle
of the 12-gauge.
It hit the feline-man in mid-air, and dragged him backwards with the force
of the impact for several meters, rolling on the muddy grass.
Bringing the shotgun's butt against his shoulder as he reloaded it, the
smile on his lips was replaced by a grim and determined expression. Kyle
aimed at Talon, and waited till the black man started to awkwardly get to
his knees before firing again.
He ripped a large chunk of flesh from his left shoulder with the impact,
and sent him spinning in the air into a mad twister.
As he walked towards him, his mind filled with voices he had thought
extinguished a long time ago and his eyes covered by a red veil of rage
and hate, Kyle kept on firing his shotgun again and again.
He made the man backpedal as his body was practically torn to pieces by
the lead buckshot, and his blood sprayed the quiet, cold air of the night.
Four times. Five times. Six times... the tall Texan lost count of how many
times he shot Talon. In the end, it wasn't really him who was the one that
gathered the strength and peace of mind to stop doing it, but the
sensation of a strange hand grabbing him by the elbow and making him turn
around.
Releasing a curse, Kyle had to make an effort not to slam the butt of his
Benelli into the face of whomever was stopping him to do what every
living, burning cell of his body was screaming at him to do.
He found himself face to face with Oz's collected features, which were
surprisingly calm even when they were still wolfish and a set of yellow
eyes were blazing in the middle of them.
He had three bleeding lines crossing his face from his left temple, over
the bridge of his nose to the very point of his chin. Kyle thought that,
and the rest of his wounds covering his body, had to hurt like hell. He
was going to have a good set of scars, too.
"Let it be," the young werewolf whispered softly to him. "He's dead."
Kyle shrugged the werewolf's hand away, turning back to face the
feline-man again. He was still on the floor, quiet, without any sign of
life in his motionless body. Half of his face had disappeared and his
chest was opened up by the gunshots, allowing him to see his exposed
ribcage and inner organs.
"Some things refuse to stay dead, Oz," he whispered, his eyes magnetically
fixed on Talon. "Some things can't ever be killed."
~~~~~~
After leaving Kyle, Crystal rounded the building and walked to the main
entrance of the apartment complex with her senses, both physical and
spiritual, scanning each squared inch around her.
Although she was worried about her friend's state of mind, and the way he
had reacted at the vision of the two beasts, she knew that Kyle would be
able to take care of himself. And, the truth was she preferred it that he
would stay away from the building as much as possible.
In the end, he would be safer.
Because she hadn't lied to him, but she hadn't told him the complete
truth, either. Yes, she had felt a great source of power nearby – so
strong that she was been about to faint, so thick and poisonous that her
whole body had been rocked by a painful wave of nausea.
What she hadn't told him was that she had recognized it the very moment
they had neared the building, the imprint of that power so clear to her
that it had chilled the red-haired witch to the bone.
Without her knowledge, the same words that were crossing her friend's mind
in that very moment were the ones that took form in her own. =Some things
refuse to stay dead.=
Reaching the main entrance, Crystal took a deep breath and pushed the door
open, which trembled on its punished hinges and was about to fall to the
ground.
Her jade-green eyes scanned the dark interior of the apartment for a brief
moment and then she took a step forward, steeling herself and fighting not
to shake with the fear that was engulfing her whole being.
"I'm here, Conrad," she whispered so quietly that only she was able to
hear her own voice, "I'm here, my dear."
~~~~~~
Leaving the stranger feline-man's body alone for a second, Giles retreated
back to his office in search for something he could use as a weapon
against him, not very sure of what that weapon could be.
Of course he had heard and read about beings such as the one that was
squirming in agony on the floor of his ravished living room, but all the
textbooks that had mentioned them assured him that they had died out
centuries ago.
Like the rest of shape-shifting species, that had once populated the
confines of the Earth.
Supposedly all that remained of them were the werewolves, which apparently
had been the only ones wise and strong enough to survive as the hand of
the progress and the modern age had destroyed the wilderness where they'd
had to seek refuge.
Now, as he took a short look at the feline-man, Giles thought that, as
with many other things in the last few years, that it was something that
had to be questioned and rediscussed.
Giles suspected he would be vulnerable to the same things as his lupine
relative. At least he hoped so, as he retrieved from the umbrella stand an
old and heavy cane that had belonged to his parents and which had its
pommel and point made of hard and shiny silver.
Walking back to the man's body, Giles took a deep breath and towered over
him, lifting the cane with his two hands, ready to sink its pointed end on
the feline's chest.
On the floor at his feet, Rush emitted a soft, pained moan and exhaled a
long breath, becoming completely motionless as, closing his eyes, his head
fell to one side. Immediately, all traces of his feline form vanished from
his body, the thick black fur retreating to nothing as his features melted
back to human.
All that remained was an incredibly tall Afro-American man covered with
the torn remains of a spaceman-like jumpsuit, drenched in blood and with
his hair colored in ten different shades of pink, yellow, blue and green.
"Well," Giles whispered amazed as he slowly lowered the cane, "I'll be
damned..."
And, of course, that was when Rush opened his eyes and hissed at him,
spraying saliva from his open jaws as he trapped Giles' ankles between his
legs and scissored them, throwing him to the floor.
Cursing his own stupidity under his breath, Giles rushed to his knees at
the same time as the black man, his features once more changing to his
supernatural self. The Watcher swung his cane over his shoulder, hitting
him on the side of his head and throwing him to one side.
As fast as he could, Giles stood up and threw himself over the stranger
man, hitting him again and again with the heavy cane like a garrote,
eliciting a sharp scream of pain from Rush every time that the silver
pommel stroke his body.
Taking a deep breath, the usually collected British Watcher clenched his
teeth and raised the cane over his head.
"Bad kitty," he growled, ready to deliver a final powerful blow to the
man's head.
The cane was already starting to trace out the falling arc when a when it
was yanked from his hands by an invisible force and, carried by his own
momentum, Giles stumbled on his feet, making an effort not to fall to the
floor at Rush's side.
Raising his shocked eyes, Giles watched helpless how the cane floated in
the air, flying away from him until a human hand trapped it, rendering it
motionless.
Waving the cane, Conrad Swann pointed at the Watcher with it, shaking his
head in disappointment. The one-eyed warlock looked like crap, his elegant
clothes wrinkled and torn, his skin haggard and streaked with dried blood,
but his only blue eye was flaming with rage as he looked at Giles, wanting
to stab him.
"You are a lousy host, Rupert," Swann whispered, shaking the cane at him.
"A very impolite one."
Giles snorted and rolled his eyes. "Well, I'm at the guests' level. This
will do me good for the next time I decide to throw a party, I suppose."
The warlock smiled widely, in spite of his angered state. Throwing the
cane aside, he raised his two hands with their palms up, twin blue balls
of energy already forming in them. "Don't you worry, my friend. We won't
bother you for long."
"You can say that again, Conrad," a feminine voice said near them. "You
won't bother anyone else ever again."
As Crystal came into the room majestically, her white robes shining in the
dim darkness, Swann turned around in flash and launched his flaming blue
balls against her. The red-haired witch simply raised her left arm and a
small vortex appeared in front of her open hand, absorbing the energy
blasts and making them disappear into its swirling bowels.
Releasing a dry laugh, Swann shook his head in amazement as the witch
lowered her hand and looked at him with calm green eyes. "Always as fast
and silent as a snake, aren't you Crystal? It's nice to see that you're
still in good shape, my darling."
She shrugged, slowly walking towards Giles and offered an obviously faked
soft smile to him. "I like to work out regularly."
Leaning down, she helped Giles to stand up and checked that the
middle-aged man wasn't severely injured. "Are you OK, Rupert?"
"Why is everybody asking me that today?" he asked, shaking his head and
rearranging his clothes. The witch offered him a smile, a real one this
time, and rolled her eyes.
"Yes," he whispered, returning the smile, "I'm not exactly alright, but
I'll get better."
"Very well then," she said, turning to look down at Rush's squirming
figure on the floor. "I don't know who you are, what you want or why
you're here, but I'm giving you one chance to leave now unharmed. Well,"
she corrected herself with a half smile, "not more harmed, at least."
The black man hissed at her, baring his fangs from the floor and the
witch's eyes started to glow, crackling blue lightning coming out of her
jade-green orbs.
"I won't say it twice."
Choosing the better part of valor, Rush rolled to his hands and knees and
stood up, growling one last time at them before turning around and running
away, escaping through the broken window.
The feline-man stopped for a moment, crouched down on the frame of the
window, and looked at them over his shoulder, his blazing eyes the only
discernible feature on his face in the darkness.
Then, without uttering a word, he leaped outside, disappearing into the
night.
"Smart kitty," Giles murmured, holding back a shiver.
"The same goes for you, Conrad," Crystal told the warlock then, her eyes
still blazing like a lightning storm. "Unless you prefer to stay, of
course."
The warlock smiled at her with delight, tilting his head to one side. "Do
you want to remember old times, my dear?"
Shaking her head, Crystal's features became as hard as steel. "I wish I
could erase those 'old times' from my mind, Conrad. I wish I could erase
you from my past. Now, I know I can't do that," she whispered raggedly,
raising a fist which was now glowing exactly like her eyes, "but I still
can erase you off the surface of the Earth."
"I bet you'd like that, Crystal." Slowly, he spread his arms wide as both
sides of his body. "But I'm afraid I neither have the time nor the energy
for such a confrontation right now. You have... interesting friends,
Crystal, especially that pretty young redhead. We'll have to talk later,
like I talked with her."
"You bastard!" she yelled at him, losing her usually calm composure as
sparkling lightning bolts came out her fingers in the warlock's direction.
His laughter resounded in the room as his body began to spin around on the
spot, enveloped into a whirlwind of golden sparks. Cris' blue lightning
bolts crackled around the small tornado, shunted aside by it, until he
simply vanished in an explosion of sparks with a final laugh.
The whirlwind slowed its pace and finally stopped, allowing the soft
dust-bunnies it had lifted to float down to the floor.
Shaking his head in wonder, Giles allowed himself to lean back against the
wall and release a long, tired sigh of relief now that everything seemed
to be over. "Teleportation... incredible. Who was that man?"
With her green eyes fixed on the spot that Swann had occupied barely
seconds ago, Crystal bit her lower lip, fighting down the tears and the
pain in the deepest part of her soul.
"My ex-fiancé," she whispered, before looking straight at him.
~~~~~~
When Rush appeared in the window frame, growling and salivating like the
angry beast that he was, Kyle turned around instinctively, raising his
shotgun with one hand and pulling the trigger.
But, instead of the expected explosion, the only sound that came from the
Benelli was the click of its firing-pin hitting an empty chamber and the
tall Texan remembered that he had emptied the tubular magazine in the
feline-man's brother.
"Oh, shit," he grunted, as Rush leaped in his direction with his claws out
and ready.
His jump, however, was cut short as Oz got in the middle of his path,
already turning into his lupine self and grabbing the taller black man,
taking him away from Kyle.
The werewolf spun around and pinned him against the trunk of a near tree,
slamming his clawed fist into his throat before cutting him with a
crescent slash from his abdomen to the upper side of his chest.
The feline-man howled in pain and slashed wildly with his claws, making Oz
duck under them and exposing his chin for the feline to knee him away.
Kyle was reaching for his revolver when something, a sixth sense, made him
look over his shoulder and turn around. Talon was standing up, holding his
numerous wounds with his hands, trying to hold back the profuse
hemorrhaging.
"Favorite son," he hissed at him, "with me your fight is. With you my debt
is. Don't you want to pay it?"
Looking at him through half-closed, hard eyes, Kyle's fingers abandoned
the grip of his revolver, leaving the gun holstered under his left arm and
reached out to the small of his back.
Very slowly, he unsheathed his Bowie knife and raised the ten-inch blade,
which shone silver in the pale moonlight. "I want," he whispered raggedly.
For a brief moment, he saw the reflection of his face on the polished
surface of the blade, and he wasn't able to recognize himself. Too pale,
too scared, too furious to be him.
"I want," he repeated.
In the distance, the wail of the police sirens was heard, shattering the
night as they approached to them.
Talon looked at the source of the sound for a brief moment, and then
looked back at the tall Texan, his twisted features dyed with the red and
the blue of the upcoming police lights. "I will do, favorite son. You will
have your chance, don't doubt it. Rush!"
The younger and taller man, which was facing a growling Oz, turned his
head to look at his brother and nodded, retreating in his direction after
giving a last menacing hiss to the red-haired werewolf.
"Play later, doggie?" he asked, with his characteristic hyena laugh.
Changing back, Oz looked at him with his yellow eyes. "You can bet on it."
The two human beasts got together and quickly ran away from the scene as
Oz walked closer to the tall Texan, who was following at their retreating
forms with an ominous look.
Rush's laughter was heard one last time, as they disappeared into the
darkness and Kyle finally relaxed his stance, lowering his knife and
exhaling a long breath.
"I guess this is the end," Oz said, wiping the blood from his now human
face with the back of his hand, and only succeeding in smearing it over
his pale features.
"Not by any means," Kyle whispered to him, his blue yes still fixed on the
spot where the two Pantera brothers had disappeared. "Not if I have
anything to do with it."
The young werewolf nodded and suddenly grimaced in pain, holding his
shoulder where Rush had bitten him. In his human form, only covered by the
remains of his torn jeans, the wounds had became smaller. But they were
still bleeding, and he was starting to feel lightheaded because of the
blood loss.
"How's Willow?" he asked Kyle, shaking his head to stay conscious.
"In the hospital, which is where you're going right now, buddy," the tall
Texan told him, getting a shocked and worried look from the younger man.
Surrounding Oz's shoulders with his arm, Kyle allowed him to lean on his
stronger figure. "Don't worry, Oz, we'll take care of everything now, OK?
Everything's going to be alright."
As the young werewolf nodded weakly, leaning fully on him and closing his
cool blue eyes, Kyle smiled weakly and raised his head. He started shaking
his head with a notorious lack of amusement, when the Sunnydale Police
Department made its grand entrance, sirens and lights blasting in the cold
night.
Three patrol cars parked in front of the building, their tires screeching
on the asphalt as their drivers crossed them, blocking the street.
It wasn't until the officers started to get out of the vehicles and draw
their guns that Kyle thought about how he must look; holding a practically
naked, bleeding and severely wounded young man.
Not to mention that fact that he was still fencing a knife long enough to
be considered a sword. He closed his eyes, and cursed under his breath.
"Shit."
"Police officers!!" one of the cops shouted, aiming at him with his
pistol. "Let him go!"
Throwing his knife down, Kyle carefully leaned Oz's semi-unconscious form
against the near tree and lifted his arms.
"This is not what it looks like!" he exclaimed as a couple of officers
pulled him away from Oz and pushed him to the ground, burying his face in
the muddy grass.
The cops handcuffed his hands behind his back, and he grunted when the
fetters finally closed around his wrists. "Look you guys, I have an
explanation for all this."
"Yeah, and we'd love to hear it down at the precinct, buddy," the leading
officer said as he took Kyle's revolver from under his jacket. Yanking at
his hair to raise his head, the cop put the gun at a couple of inches from
his nose and smiled. "And I'd love to hear how you can explain this."
"I have a permit for that," the Texan growled, shaking his head to free
his hair from the officer's painful grasp. "Look in my back pocket, jerk.
I'm a Federal agent!"
The cops exchanged a short and shocked look, and then the leading officer
did as he was told, extracting a small leather wallet from the back pocket
of Kyle's jeans.
Opening it, he released a long whistle. "Well, guys," he told his
partners, showing them the FBI badge and ID card, "looks like he's telling
the truth, he's a Fed."
The cop smiled, and used the closed wallet to slap the back of Kyle's
head. "Then I guess you already know your rights, uh, Agent. Get him into
the car, guys."
As the cops made him stand up, painfully yanking at his handcuffed hands,
Kyle shook his head tiredly, growling between his clenched teeth. "Today's
definitely my lucky day."
~~~~~~
"What are you waiting for?" Cordelia asked Xander, seeing that he made no
sign of starting to chase the escaping Humvee.
Arching his brow, the young vampire simply killed the engine and the bike
became silent and quiet with a soft shake, as he freed up the brakes.
"What are you doing?" she asked again
"No, what are you doing, Cordy?" he asked back at her, his intense dark
eyes full of puzzlement. Taking her chin delicately on his hand, he gently
made her tilt her head to one side and the other, examining the bruised
and cuts on her face.
A low growl escaped his throat, and he frowned deeply. "And who's
responsible for this?"
She sighed tiredly, softly taking her chin away from his fingers and
looking straight at his eyes. "Don't worry about me, Xander. I can take
care of myself."
"Well, it doesn't look like it from this side, Cordy. Are you trying to
kill yourself, or what?"
Looking at him through half-closed eyes, Cordelia pointed at the way the
Humvee had disappeared to. "We don't have time for this, Xander. If you
want to have a fight, fine, but we'll have it later. Now they have the
cross, and they're escaping! So start this damn thing, and follow them!"
Xander looked briefly at the end of the street and them looked back at her
with perplexity. "The cross? What cross?"
Cordelia closed her eyes and shook her head, trying to keep her temper
under control. "The du Lac Cross," she practically growled at him under
her breath. "Those people took it, they almost killed us to get it!
The perplexity on his expression lasted for a few more moments, until the
lightbulb of recognition was finally switched on inside his head. "The
Cross-O-Matic?"
This time, it was Cordelia's expression that was the puzzled one. "The
what?"
Shaking his head, Xander started the engine of the bike, accelerating a
couple of times on the spot. "It doesn't matter," he murmured looking at
her over his shoulder and putting on his sunglasses. "But you're right
about one thing, Cordy. We'll talk about this later."
Without any warning, Xander yanked at the handlebars and, raising the
front wheel, he accelerated suddenly. Caught by surprise, Cordelia lost
her equilibrium and fell backwards.
The only thing she could do not to crash painfully against the hard
asphalt was to jump back and let the bike go away, knowing that if she
grabbed Xander and tried to stay on the seat she would only succeed in
being dragged along the ground.
"Xander!!" she yelled, shaking her arms awkwardly not to lost her footing.
Raising her eyes, she watched helplessly as the black and silver dragster
ran away from her, carrying her lover with it. "You'll pay for this,
Xander Harris!!"
Cursing under her breath, Cordelia turned around and started to run away,
wishing she could kick her boyfriend's butt.
If Xander had heard her, he didn't show any sign of it. The young vampire
just let the front wheel fall to the road and accelerated with a roar of
the powerful 4-cylinder engine, getting into the chase of the black
Humvee.
"And now," he growled as he crouched down behind the handlebars, allowing
the wind to ruffle his longish hair and flutter his leather jacket, "let's
go for the funny part."
~~~~~~
Tossing the grenade-launcher to the side, Havoc relaxed in the back seat
of the Humvee, leaning his head against the headrest and closing his eyes
while Backlash drove both of them home.
"I still can't believe it, buddy," the Australian mercenary said, shaking
his head. "I can't believe they killed Santero, he was one damn tough
bastard."
"Apparently he wasn't tough enough," the Scandinavian man muttered,
raising his eyes to the ceiling. He took the du Lac Cross in his hand, and
examined it closely. "At least we got this thing. I just hope it's worth
it."
Looking at him through the rear-view mirror, Backlash munched nervously on
his lower lip. "What are we going to tell the Colonel?"
Havoc shrugged, shaking his head. "The truth, I guess."
His companion didn't like how that sounded, but he abstained from making
any comment, knowing that it was neither the time or place. Whatever would
be, would be.
He just hoped it wouldn't end with a 9mm bullet in his forehead.
Backlash took the walkie-talkie from the dashboard, and pushed the
speaking button. "Daddy Goose? This is Receptor Team, we have the ball, I
repeat, we have the ball. Over."
"Hey, nice to hear from you at last!" Chopper's voice came with a snort of
sarcasm. "We saw the firecrackers, can you tell me what the hell you were
doing?"
"Throwing a party," The Australian growled. "Listen, we have casualties.
Santero's dead."
There was a moment of silent in the radio before the pilot's voice came
again, doubtful and incredulous. "Santero? Dead?"
"Yeah, dead! Don't make me repeat it again, OK?" Backlash told him with
annoyance. "We're going back to the mansion and we'll report there. You
just keep our path open."
A thousand feet above them, inside the cockpit of the black Huey
helicopter, Chopper checked the glowing green screens and monitors showing
him the images provided by the enhanced night-vision cameras and shook his
head.
"Well, buddy, in that case I should tell you something: you have a
parasite on your tail," he told the other man.
"What?" Instinctively, Backlash looked over his shoulder and Havoc
imitated him, checking the darkened road behind them through the rear
windshield.
The light of a single headlamp blinded him for a second, and Havoc had to
make an effort not to hit something in rage and frustration.
"Shit," he growled, recovering his weapon, "is this going to end any time
soon?"
Behind the steering wheel, Backlash shook his head, tossing the
walkie-talkie back on the dashboard and pressing down on the gas pedal.
"It doesn't look like it."
~~~~~~
With the road practically free of traffic once the darkness had fallen on
Sunnydale, Xander didn't need much time to get on the trail of the
escaping Humvee. The fact was that he was riding his Yamaha like a demon,
using the straight roadways to reach the bike's maximum speed and taking
the curves at the limit of its endurance.
To the point that every time he leaned down to one side of a curve, he
could hear the scratching and see the sparks flying, with the contact of
the exhaust pipes against the rough asphalt.
All the way, he considered the implications of what was happening. The du
Lac Cross? Why? And why now? Who could be responsible for what was going
on? What did they need the cross for? And what was the connection with
Faith's appearance? Was it a mere coincidence?
He didn't believe that. It had to be related.
But now, barely ten meters behind the black military vehicle he couldn't
help but smile smugly as he centered on the matter at hand. When he got
them, they were going to have a little nice talk.
And after that, he would see what he would do with them for hurting his
friends. He hadn't decided yet, but the idea of leaving them in Spike's
hands and turning around, was looking better and better with each passing
second.
Then, he remembered the bruises on Cordelia's face and the idea of Willow
being taken to the hospital, and decided that Spike wouldn't have all the
fun for himself.
Squeezing the gas control one last time, Xander speeded up and finally
reached the Humvee, moving to the vehicle's left. Riding side by side, he
held the handlebars with his right hand made an unmistakable sign towards
the two men inside the black off-road, indicating them to stop.
The man in the back seat, a huge blonde with red streaks of blood covering
his upper lip and cheeks, returned him the sign with his middle finger and
started to roll down the window.
Xander saw the weapon in his hands and released a resigned sigh, returning
his left hand to the handlebars and accelerating suddenly.
As Havoc leaned out the open window, ready to aim at the annoying young
man with his gun, the black Yamaha raised its front wheel and got ahead
the Humvee. Completely passing it and crossing the road from left to
right, to finally end up on the black vehicle's opposite side.
"Shit," Havoc growled, getting his large body out of the window, so he
could aim at the leather-clad biker over the Humvee's roof, "I'm going to
kick your ass to next week, kiddo!"
Looking at the vehicle over his shoulder and from behind his sunglasses,
Xander flipped his leather jacket open and, smiling evilly, brought his
left hand to the small of his back and the butt of his sidearm.
In a single movement, the young vampire drew out the H&K USP Compact and
braked with complete precision, engulfing the bike into a white cloud of
burnt rubber coming from the rear tire as it slid over the road,
completely blocked.
Moving at a suddenly superior speed, the Humvee passed in an exhalation by
his left and Xander pulled the trigger like a madman the moment it reached
his mark, using the black off-road's own movement to spray its surface
with a wave of flying bullets.
Inside, Havoc and Backlash dived down to the floor and covered their heads
as the rain of lead ripped golden sparks from the metallic surface of the
truck and shattered the windows into a thousand fragments of glass.
Free of its driver's hands, the Humvee began to lurch from one side of the
road to the other, its frame shaking every time the wheels hit the curb.
"What the...?!?" Backlash shouted, quickly grabbing the steering wheel and
regaining control of the vehicle.
Behind the black off-road, Xander freed up the brakes and accelerated
again, raising his pistol and emptying the rest of his 13-round magazine
into the back part of the Humvee.
The rear window exploded, covering the road with shattered fragments of
glass as the young vampire noticed the emergency fuel cans hanging from
their trappings and smiled evilly, firing his remaining shots against
them.
The cans blew up in a ball of fire that engulfed half the vehicle, and
lifted its rear axle off the ground. Unbalanced by the shock wave of the
explosion, the Humvee bounced wildly along the road, with its rear part
still in flames.
Returning the empty gun to its holster in the small of his back, Xander
pursued the off-road as it moved seemingly out of control, jumping over
the traffic island separating the lanes and getting into the exit leading
to the outskirts of the town.
=Good,= he thought, =at least I'll minimize the damage.=
Back into the Humvee, Havoc released his weapon and grabbed the fire
extinguisher, quickly using it to extinguish the flames before they
completely engulfed the vehicle.
"That guy's starting to really piss me off!" he roared, tossing the
extinguisher aside and recovering his weapon.
Backlash caught a glimpse of a sign, announcing the proximity of the local
mall as they passed it at top speed. The Australian mercenary spun the
steering wheel violently, forcing the vehicle to skid on the road and
taking the exit leading to the shopping complex.
"Let's see if he's so eager to use gunfire near civilians," he growled,
thinking that, of course, they wouldn't have the same problem.
Using the butt of the grenade-launcher to rip the broken remains of glass
from the window-frame, Havoc leaned out again and quickly aimed at Xander,
pulling the trigger.
"Oh, no," Xander cursed with a growl, seeing the flying grenade coming in
his direction in slow motion.
Braking, the young vampire swung the bike around and skidded laterally
like a dirt track rider, leaning down and keeping his equilibrium with his
extended leg. The projectile passed over his lowered head and blew up over
the empty road behind him, exploding into a ball of fire and dark smoke
that sent a cloud of razor-sharp shrapnel in every direction.
As a tiny but burning piece of shrapnel opened a bleeding line on his
right cheek, Xander used the momentum of the explosion to complete the
spin and, with his rear wheel emitting white smoke, accelerated on the
trail of the black Humvee.
"Who is that guy?" Havoc asked amazed, as Backlash drove the Humvee into
the ample parking lot of the mall by the wrong lane, almost crashing
against a Volvo station-wagon that was innocently trying to come out.
"Evel Kneivel?"
Behind them, the driver of the Volvo did a violent maneuver to dodge the
Humvee and ended up at the entrance of the parking lot, crashing against
the guard's empty stand.
The stand collapsed into a pile of broken boards of wood and plastic as
the Volvo's engine died, blocking the entrance completely and making
Xander jam on the brakes not to crash against them.
Skidding sideways again, the young vampire managed to stop the Yamaha
barely a couple of inches from the family car.
"Move it!" Xander shouted to the driver of the Volvo, a man on his late
forties who looked at him with frightened eyes.
Over the station wagon's roof, the young vampire saw helplessly how the
Humvee got farther and farther away towards the mall as, through the
broken rear window, Havoc waved him goodbye with a wide smile. "Federal
agent, get this piece of junk out of my way!"
The driver of the Volvo nodded weakly and twisted the key inside the
ignition, but the car's engine refused to come back to life, coughing and
shaking.
Clenching his teeth and stifling a curse, Xander took a fast look around,
checking the position of the Humvee, his own vehicle, the tall wire-fence
surrounding the parking lot and the rows of cars still parked on them.
Sighing, Xander shook his head. "I gotta be losing my head," he whispered
as he squeezed the gas control and rode away from the Volvo for several
tens of meters, before turning around and facing the fence.
Reaching out to the small of his back, he drew out the USP Compact and
released its empty clip, quickly getting a fresh one from the pocket of
his leather jacket and driving it into the butt of the gun. He let out a
long sigh, and closed his eyes for a second.
"I have completely lost it," he growled, as he revved up the engine.
The bike was launched forward like a missile towards the tall fence, the
space separating them getting shorter and shorter with every turn of the
wheels.
Clenching his teeth, Xander lifted his gun and fired four times, hitting
twice each one of the two upper links joining the first panel to the tall
posts holding it.
The impact of the bullets ripped the links away from the panel and, when
the bike's front wheel impacted against it, the panel fell forward until
it crashed with the roof of the nearest parked car, ending like a ramp.
Xander drove the Yamaha over the make-shift ramp at top speed, flying into
the air when he reached its end and tracing out a perfect arc. Until the
young vampire landed on the rear wheel with a scream of protest from the
vehicle's suspension, and a shake of the whole structure.
Leaving behind the blocked entrance, Xander sped in search of the black
Humvee and finally found it some yards ahead of his position, moving at
more speed than what should be safe for the pedestrians nearby as its
driver searched for an exit from the parking lot.
As Xander pursued the off-road vehicle, the people who were coming out of
the near mall with all their purchases, completely oblivious to what was
going outside, ran away from the path of the huge truck.
It seemed to them to have a liking for the exposed parts of the parked
cars, so many times it was crashing against them.
"Aaaarrgh!!" Backlash shouted in frustration, violently spinning the
wheel. "Where's the bloody exit?"
"Why don't you stop and ask a cop, mate?" Havoc asked him with a grimace
of hostility, as his partner's mad handling sent him bouncing from one
side of the back seat to the other.
Taking a look outside, he noticed the leather-clad biker getting
dangerously near to them, again in pursuit. "Oh, hell," he groaned,
"doesn't he ever get tired?"
~~~~~~
On the nightly sky above the mall, the black Huey was almost invisible as
its pilot made its nose-dive down and lost height. In the cockpit, Chopper
checked the different screens and monitors and shook his head with a mix
of wonder and amusement, seeing the chaos and mayhem that his partners
were causing in the parking lot.
"Those two couldn't find their own butts," he groaned through the
microphone of his helmet.
In the cargo area behind him, Sniper nodded his agreement as he secured
himself, fastening a safety cord from his belt to a steel ring on the
frame of the sliding side door.
"Not even using both hands and a mirror," the gunman said with a smile, as
he opened the door and a wave of cold air came into the helicopter along
with the thundering rattle of the rotors.
"Get lower," he said as he took off the safety of his sniper rifle and
brought its butt against his shoulder, "and I'll take care of the guy in
black."
Chopper nodded without answering him and pushed the altitude lever down,
making the aircraft lose height once more. Licking his lips and smiling,
Sniper observed the scenery of the parking lot through the lens of the
rifle's scope.
His cold eyes needed just a second to get accustomed to the difference,
and a few moments later the unwavering muzzle of the Dragunov SVD was
aiming at the young biker's figure, the crosshairs placed right on his
head.
"So there you are," Sniper whispered with a wide, sadistically pleased
smile as his finger curved on the trigger, "come to Daddy..."
~~~~~~
Xander's sharp vampire ears detected the sound of the helicopter's rotor
blades, but it was a different sixth sense what made him risk a fast look
up over his shoulder, the feeling of being watched, of having someone
breathing directly down his neck.
Arching his brow in wonder, he found the insect-like aircraft about 150
feet above and behind him, quickly descending over the parking lot and,
half a second later, he noticed the weapon pods at both sides.
Obviously it wasn't a civilian aircraft, and he doubted very much that he
was coming in to help him.
=Another piece of the puzzle,= he thought as he violently made the bike
turn to the left, passing through the narrow space between two parked
cars. A wave of bullets started to rain down around him, shattering the
cars' glass windows and opening small rounded holes on their metallic
frames.
Jamming on the brakes, Xander stopped the bike between the two cars and,
keeping his head down, he took off his sunglasses and released a long
tired sigh as he wiped the sweat from his forehead.
Putting the shades back on, the young vampire looked over the edge of the
car's roof and saw the helicopter positioning over the rows of parked
cars, a man on its side acting as a gunner with a sniper rifle.
He calculated the distance between them and estimated that it couldn't be
less than seventy meters, too much for anyone of his handguns and, at the
same time, just a walk through the park for the shooter's rifle.
Biting his lower lip, Xander lowered his head as the helicopter's gunner
read his thoughts and fired once again, the bullet hitting the roof of the
car and ripping sparks from it.
Looking around, Xander located the black Humvee at the end of the lane in
front of him. It was lost in the maze of the parking lot and turning
around once again, with its fat tires engulfed in white clouds of smoke.
=Time to raise the stakes a little,= the young vampire thought, as he
turned his head to look at the car parked at his left, an aged Ford LTD
with a rusty but thick frame.
=Time, indeed,= he repeated to himself as he punched the window of the
passenger's door with his bare fist, shattering the glass into a thousand
pieces.
Grabbing the lower edge of the window, oblivious to the pain that been
caused in his hand by the broken fragments of glass, Xander ripped the
whole door from the frame and turned it around so he could grab it by the
interior handle.
Then, he accelerated and came out of his hiding spot in a new cloud of
burnt rubber.
Riding like a dark, postmodern version of a medieval knight on a hellish
horse, Xander used the makeshift shield to cover himself from the shots of
the helicopter's gunner as he sped towards the black Humvee.
He engaged the much bigger vehicle in a match to the death, the two of
them face to face and getting dangerously closer with each passing
heartbeat.
"Stupid," Backlash growled behind the steering wheel, slamming down on the
gas. "Crazy, suicidal son of a..."
The powerful engine of the Humvee roared, and the bike's muscled one
howled as the two vehicles closed the distance separating them in a flash.
With his eyes fixed on the front fender of the Humvee, Xander ignored the
shots raining around him.
They hit his makeshift shield and made it tremble in his grasp, but all
his attention was focused on the black off-road coming to him at the speed
of light.
Fifty meters, forty, thirty, twenty, ten...
At the last moment Xander moved to the right, getting out of the truck's
path as he swung his arm and threw the pierced and ripped-off door against
the windshield of the vehicle.
The thick door impacted against the front window with an explosion of
glass and metal fragments that blinded the driver, turning the whole
surface into a large web of cracks.
Xander, even after completely passing the Humvee, skillfully made his bike
turn around, now using the off-road's own frame as a shield against the
helicopter.
For a second, as he took his eyes away from the road and looked up through
the driver's window, Xander saw the face of the man behind the wheel,
turned towards him and wearing a mix or shock, rage and hate.
Allowing his human mask to vanish, the young vampire sent a hard stare to
the mercenary with his golden eyes blazing over the dark rim of his
sunglasses, and a half-arrogant smile that showed in his sharp and pointed
fangs.
In Xander's modest opinion, the expression on the man's face was
priceless.
~~~~~~
=The Devil,= Backlash thought, opening and closing his eyes to make sure
that was he was seeing was real. Havoc awkwardly crawled between the front
seats and bent his legs, so he could kick the door sticking through the
broken windshield off of the Humvee's hood.
They were being chased by Satan himself. That was the only explanation he
could think of that satisfied him, because any other one didn't fit.
"What the hell are you doing, Backlash?" he heard Havoc asking him with
high-pitched voice. "Look ahead!"
As if he had heard his partner, the golden-eyed, dark-haired demon
signaled ahead with his index finger, still giving him a cocky grin, and
returned his hand to the black and silver bike's handlebars, accelerating
and passing them with mocking ease.
Shocked by the entire situation, the Australian mercenary could only
follow the biker's figure as the Yamaha crossed the road in front of them
to their right side, and his attention was captured his customized license
plate, hanging lopsided under the bike's taillight:
CALIFORNIA - XAND16.
The dark-haired biker, his face human again, flashed a new smile at him
that was no less cocky and edged than the one of his demonic self. Then he
braked without warning, allowing him to get away seemingly without any new
attempt to stop him.
"I told you to look ahead!!" Havoc roared at that very moment, shaking him
out of his reverie.
"What the..."
The Australian mercenary finally looked ahead, only to see the wide glass
doors of the mall's main entrance barely two meters from the hood of the
vehicle he was driving.
Two meters that vanished in the blink of an eye.
"Oooh," Backlash heard his companion moan as the Humvee bounced on the
tiny step in from of the door and jumped up, flying through them as they
exploded into a cascade of tiny but sharp fragments, the sound from the
impact covered by the engine's mighty roar.
"You're an idiot, Backlash! An idiot, you stupid son of a bitch!!"
"Hey!" The Australian man told his companion as the off-road landed with a
final bounce and he fought to keep control, "Don't diss my mother!!"
Backlash drove the Humvee into the spacious main hallway of the mall, not
caring less about the people remaining there as he slammed down on the gas
with all his strength.
He couldn't help but smile, although he couldn't hear their screams,
silenced by the powerful sound of the engine and the thunder of his blood
in his eardrums. But their panicked faces as they jumped out of the
massive off-road's way, were worthy of being remembered.
"Oh, man, I wish I had a camera," he chuckled, genuinely amused as the
front fender crashed against a big flower pot, cracking it open into an
explosion of broken plaster and flying chunks of soggy earth.
The plant, a small palm tree, fell on the hood of the Humvee and was
flipped over its roof when Backlash spun the steering wheel to the right.
He dodged the line of decorating flower pots and benches that formed a row
in the center of the hallway, moving now in the right lane they formed.
"Yeah," Havoc growled, looking at him sideways and with hostility, "we
could star in America's Most Sadistic Videos or something. Could you just
get us outta here, please?"
"Sure, mate," the Australian nodded, looking at the rear-view mirror, "the
moment you get that guy off my ass."
Havoc turned his head to look over his shoulder, and saw the dark-haired
biker arriving into the mall behind them. His black Yamaha was flying some
inches over the polished floor as its front wheel bounced on the step on
the entrance, before finally landing with a loud thud and a soft screech
from its suspension.
Closing his eyes, the Scandinavian man released a low curse under his
breath. "That guy," he growled, "is taking this way too far!"
Chuckling, Backlash nodded his agreement. "He is a real die-hard, isn't
he?"
As looked at the biker over the headrest of his seat, Havoc grabbed his
grenade-launcher and opened its revolver-like chambers. Loading an
incendiary projectile on the first chamber, the mercenary closed it with a
loud snap of its lock and leaned outside through the open window.
"Not for long," Havoc murmured, aiming at the floor between the biker and
their own vehicle.
He pulled the trigger and the grenade came out of the launch tube in a
dark cloud of smoke, flying directly towards Xander's upcoming figure.
=Haven't we already done this before?= the young vampire thought in the
space of a heartbeat, his enhanced vampire vision making him see
everything as if in slow motion.
Then, the grenade touched ground and exploded into a big ball of fire that
reached from one side of the hallway to the other, the flames rising up
into a wall that divided the way into two separated parts.
"Son of a...!" Xander cursed out loud, slamming on the brakes at the same
that he swung the bike around and skidded laterally once more, getting
dangerously close to the wall of flames in spite of the quickly decreasing
speed of his Yamaha.
Clenching his teeth, knowing he had to take the risk or lose the game,
Xander leaned down and allowed his bike to completely fall down,
swallowing a scream of pain when his leg was trapped between the still
sliding vehicle and the floor beneath.
Reaching out, he extended his arm and dug his claws into the floor,
leaving parallel marks on the polished floor as he used them to decrease
his speed. Sparks flew at the contact of his nails with the fake marble,
until he finally stopped at no more than a couple of feet from the flaming
obstacle.
The intensity of the heat made the display windows from the nearby shops
explode, flooding the hallway with a rain of shattered glasses as their
contents started to burn.
As the fire extinguishers in the ceiling were finally activated, the
interior of the mall was suddenly submerged in a deluge and Xander, still
lying on the floor, crawled awkwardly from under his overturned bike.
He grimaced in pain, feeling his kneecap shattered and waited for a few
seconds, breathing heavily as the artificial pouring rain drenched him to
the bones and his broken bones started to rearrange by themselves inside
the torn and bloodied leg of his black jeans.
"Oww!! Damn!!" he screamed as his leg twisted of its own volition and his
knee got into place. "That hurts!"
The young vampire stood up slowly as the spray from the fire extinguishers
fought with the fire, slowly extinguishing it. Looking through the
decaying wall of flames, feeling his wet hair and his drenched clothes
plastered to his body, Xander released a low growl from the innermost
depths of his being.
He took off his sunglasses, and examined its crackled lenses and twisted
bridge.
"I really liked these ones," he whispered, discarding them and yanking at
the handlebars of his bike to make it stand up.
Riding the Yamaha again, Xander started its engine and sped away from the
firewall, the rear tire sending a spray of pulverized water from the pools
formed in the floor.
Before, he had just been angry. He accelerated back toward the entry and
the twin sets of automatic escalators leading to the second floor, the
blaze burning in his still golden eyes betrayed by the stoic tenseness on
his handsome human face, hard as stone.
Now, he was furious, and that wasn't a good thing. Not for anybody.
~~~~~~
To be continued...