Feedback: Good or bad, 's all groovy :) Ok, I'm a review slut, I admit it. ::hangs head:: You think there's a 12 Step Program?
I know your heart is bad
But it's all I've ever had
We can live our lives
On this righteous crime.
Her palm slammed down on the final button in the sequence at Woodman's yell. The lights on the panel flashed once and the wall at the back of the room began to slide up with a smooth electrical whirring and the whisper of metal against metal.
Swords crossing can make that sound, or a guillotine's rush.
Or the only panel between an observation booth and a holding room flooded with ultraviolet light.
In the doorway the vampires hesitated as the room brightened before them, throwing everything into a stark relief of black and white, the shadows long but clean. It wasn't daylight, but it would do. Merchant wanted to say something profound, or witty as the man made sunlight washed over them all, but she settled for a wide grin when they began to scream.
The room filled quickly with the stench of burning, as the hunters suddenly began falling over each other to reach the safety of the corridor. To her disappointment, Isaac's ex was first out, but the last was the one called Marty. His back caught fire like it had been drenched in petrol, licking at his hair for a moment then engulfing the back of him entirely. Not one of those hissing in the shadows made a move to help him as he staggered and almost seemed to collapse in on himself. The fire breaking parchment orange skin apart from within and consuming him whole.
At last it was still. The flames licked at ash and bone, dying little by little as she watched. She had to admit she knew next to nothing about vampires compared to Woodman or even Anderson, but she knew the quicker they dusted, the older they were. This one had been old.
Silence held for a long moment, the monsters held at bay and the only backdrop her own harsh breathing and the rattling of Anderson. Almost on auto-pilot Merchant moved her eyes, and her eyes only, keeping them in her peripheral vision no matter whether they would brave the artificial day or not. Woodman was crouched over Anderson, but his gaze was on the door. It seemed distant almost, clinical. He wasn't smiling. Beyond him was a heap in shadow she assumed was Isaac.
"Clever little cows."
The crooning in the voice was almost sing song, the girl stepped up to the very edge of the thin barrier separating the two, snapping Merchant's attention to her. Thin hands where held up as if they could feel the invisible wall, stroking it nearly lovingly with a smile as her eyes fixed and held to the only other female.
"But it won't work for long. Just gotta find where the light gets made and then ..."
Her hands formed a fist and then flicked apart just as quickly with her next words.
"Poof ... all gone. I think I'll have you first ... and then the men. Or, maybe the men first and then you. Isaac would be a cherry on top. A girl's got to watch her figure, but he's such a sweetie ... couldn't you just eat him up? "
Merchant could only shake her head in response as Woodman's voice cut across the other's almost sweetly conversational tone with a darkly sardonic one.
"Sure, you can find the power generator, in fact I'll just tell you just where it is, shall I?"
His head nodded back towards the holding room with it's cabinets upon cabinets in endless rows holding the bloodless bodies of the vampires considerate enough to be filed neatly away rather than massacring half the Project operatives.
"In there. Right at the end. Can't miss it. Bloody great thing, makes one hell of a racket. You can probably hear it."
He studied them for a considering moment, then shook his head with a curl of his lip.
"So, you have to go in there, get past the security cage and then shut it down. Without ending up like your friend there. You know, I just don't like your chances. But ... please ... try it. There's an hour left on my shift, and I could really use a laugh."
Merchant felt herself begin to grin again. And then she bought the pistol up and pulled the trigger, enjoying seeing the girl's expression of anger turn to shock in that brief moment before the back of her head blew out and she fell back into the figures behind her. It probably wouldn't do much good, but the element of satisfaction was worth it. Maybe that was what made Anderson tick. There was the sound of scuffling, fast moving feet. And the corridor was deserted.
With an effort of will she turned her back to the door and joined Merchant kneeling beside Anderson. The man didn't look good. A sheen of cold sweat covered his skin and his lips had gained a tinge of blue. Even if they were in a hospital now she wouldn't expect him to survive. From his expression Woodman knew it too.
She spoke in a whisper, as she would in a church. The observation booth was sanctuary, and with sanctuary came sanctity.
"What do you think they'll do?"
Woodman replied just as quietly, not taking his attention from Anderson. As if he could keep the man breathing through sheer force of will. Maybe he could.
"If they've got any sense they'll be trying to break out of here. They don't have long till the sun comes up now."
"Do you think they have any sense?"
"Nope"
Her silence was her agreement. The ones following the ex from hell might well try and make it out, but she wouldn't. Keeping her fingers idly stroking Anderson's damp hair away from his face, Merchant looked at Isaac's crumpled form. He still hadn't moved from where he'd been flung, his skin was tightened over every dead vein. Her eyes narrowed just a touch and she glanced at Woodman who simply nodded a confirmation to her unvoiced suspicions. He was looking like, well, death. But not that much like death.
"Nice try fang boy, but you're not out."
Isaac cracked an eye open, at least having the grace not to play possum any longer and giving a distorted "Fuck off."
His head hurt. His everything hurt. Most of all, he was hungry. His teeth had sharpened and were cutting into his lips but drawing little blood. He couldn't even retract them. If he'd had the option to actually be out he might have seriously been considering it. And when he'd fallen through the door, he'd really thought he would be.
Tentatively Isaac attempted to sit up, ignoring the woman's eyes on him but unable to block out the delicious smell of the blood on the dying man. His patch of shadow didn't extend to the food lying so tantalizingly close, even if he could have been fast enough to snack and run. Which he really, really doubted. Not with "Miss Trigger Happy 2002 Of The Borg" so close anyway.
She was still looking at him.
Then it occurred to him he was still alive. Well, he hated to remind them he shouldn't be at this point, but if he didn't get something to eat soon their reminder would be much nastier and clawing at their throats. Not healthy for them, less healthy for him. Of his chosen ways to die, ignominiously at the hands of a bitch with a big gun really wasn't high on the list. To be fair, it actually wasn't that low down either.
The truth was a radical approach, but it might just work. Still, how to start was the problem. 'I'm hungry and if I don't eat your friend I'll attack you and I don't want to get shot.' probably wouldn't go down well. Less truth than that then. With a concerted effort he at last retracted his teeth and coughed, speaking as politely as he could muster.
"I need to eat your friend..."
He paused and mentally replayed his words in the silence that followed, then hastily followed up.
"... a bit!"
That could probably have gone better.
Merchant was still just looking at him, she smirked and shook her head as she replied. She wasn't even thinking of him as a threat anymore. Bitch.
"I know bleeding the sick used to be a big thing. But we've moved on from that, and you're too big and too slimy to be a leech."
The growl started low in his throat despite his best attempts against it, the room took on a ruddy hue beyond eyes he knew were beginning to flicker red. He closed them. Inside the Beast screamed for the release he had never before denied it, the hunger crawling up his throat and into the snarl that wouldn't be contained. Gun. Remember the gun. Remember you are the nastiest piece of work in the city. Remember you were once a Paladin. Remember the girl with laughter on her lips and murder in her eyes. Remember she needs you. Remember you are not an animal. Remember.
When he opened his eyes again they were looking down the barrel of the gun. On the plus side, the red haze was gone. Yay him.
"Fuck."
And then the stream of UV snapped away, along with the hum of the generator and the crackle of automatic gunfire.
"Fuck"
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Right, so the next one is the last chapter.... honest.