AUTHOR'S NOTE:
The first three chapters of this story take place in between chapter six
and seven of "When Django Met Drusilla : A Tale Of Two Loonies" (while the
couple were on a world holiday, as referenced at the beginning of chapter
seven).
Chapters four and five take place shortly after the end of "When Django Met
Drusilla : A Tale Of Two Loonies".
Earlier in the year. Welcome to the war zone. It was a village in Hungary that was being torn apart. Once, decades ago, the infamous vampire couple, Spike and Drusilla had spent time here. It had been a place of superstition and fear though and their visit had almost cost them their undead lives. Since then though, the village had become overrun by demons and black marketeers. Tonight that awful tyranny was coming to an end.
The lithe young woman pirouetted over the heads of the fleeing demons. She fired her twin automatic handguns at them and expertly brought down three of them. The others continued to flee, with no time to mourn their fallen comrades. "It is the devil who hunts us" they spat fearfully in Hungarian. "The bogeyman with her scythe." Indeed that was true. She had used a scythe earlier and had killed many demons with it. Since then the night had been rocked with gunfire and explosions. The demons had cried out.
The woman now sprang among the fleeing demons and cut like a tiger, flashing her long curved knife. The dark assassin moved in a blur, faster than these demons had ever seen in a human before. She growled like a feline from hell and when enough blood was spilled, she finally sheathed her blade. It was at this time that her stylish cell phone rang. Without missing a beat, the woman picked it from her fancy belt from Paris. "Who is there?" she demanded, brushing some strands of her red hair from her face. She was wearing a dark blue beret, a low-cut dark top and tight PVC pants.
She listened to the stumbling sales pitch on the other end of the call and rolled her eyes. She answered curtly and mockingly. "I see. And how do you expect to pay me for this? I see. Nope. Not interested." The woman listened to the protests. "Oh, so that should make the difference? What my idealistic, self flagellating brother gets up to is no concern of mine."
The woman laughed at the caller's plea. "I'm aware of those who would work cheaply for you. Those are the one's like Django. Amateurs who end up sleeping with the enemy. Fools who shame all our creed." She smiled with glee at the man's next words. "I see. Going after Django's vampire whore, are you? In that case I wish you luck. If you see him, tell him I ask for him. That is all!" She laughed grimly and snapped her cell phone shut. Enough. Onward to the next paying customer.
****
A hillside ruin of a temple in Budapest. The men stood and awaited what their leader had to reveal from his phone conversation. The bearded man named Delgado, irritably put his mobile phone away and sighed. The men waited expectantly. "She says she will not work for us at this time."
One of the younger men present, an idealist of course spoke up in disbelief. "Does she not know of the work we are preparing to do?"
Delgado eyed his fellow hunters gravely. "One in her line, as excellent as she, can afford to pick and choose her moral crusades. She works for the highest bidder as always. Regrettable but ...." He let his words trail off. The other men looked downward and shoe gazed. "We cannot afford to pay her what she is undoubtedly worth. We are still so few and cannot afford so much expenditure for one warrior."
Delgado sighed bitterly. There were just a few groups like theirs, scattered across the globe. All that was left of the once proud watchers. His was a splinter organisation now. The Watchers Council had grown complacent and that mistake now continued to cost the surviving operatives. Delgado had got together the operatives he could locate. Those who thought like he did.
"My friends and colleagues," Delgado began to address the assembled men, "we must not allow ourselves to blunder again. The likes of Quentin Travers and his ilk had grown lazy. We must be always on our guard and be ready at all times to take the offensive. As you are aware, we have gathered information on the whereabouts of some of our most dangerous individual enemies. Now who from our ranks shall go on these hunt and kill operations? Precision and expertise is of the utmost. We must be the ones striking fear into demon kind."
A figure suddenly darted from out of the temple ruin and somersaulted over the heads of the assembled, landing by the edge of the hillside. Delgado sighed again. Unfortunately this young man had some of his arrogant sister's sense of bravado. Need that he did not. Still, Delgado felt much respect for this youth, who was an expert in the use of Japanese swords and martial arts. He was also dedicated to the war against the dark things of the world. This honourable, noble youth cared nothing for earthly gains.
The young swordsman bowed respectfully to his peers. "Mr Delgado, let me be the one to take the task you offered to my mercenary sister. You know I can accomplish this."
"My boy." Delgado returned the bow. "You have my blessing. Yes, the assignment is yours. Assemble your team." And, Delgado added to himself, may God guide our hands as we smite down the beasts.
****
It was during the time of Django and Drusilla's travels around the world, before they had returned to the UK and domestic bliss. They had come to the Italian city of Florence and had so far, been delighted by all the wonderfully evocative architecture to be found. It was a pleasant evening. Drusilla had already had her snack for the night, when a foolish local had tried to pick her pocket. Now she was walking along merrily, resplendent in her dark, velvety evening dress. "Oooohhh, can't you just feel the statues sing to us?" Dru exulted. "What a sweet serenade it all is!"
Django smiled warmly at his girl, whom he walked beside. "Yes, love. I can feel it in fact." And it was true. There was something magical about visiting the world's beautiful places with Dru by his side. There was real magic in the air and it made Django tingle. Django wistfully blessed whichever force was out there, that had helped the couple heal their New York rift and return to mutual adoration and respect.
Drusilla was thrilled. She could tell that Django really meant his agreement with her. How used she was, to sarcastic or absentminded "yeah yeah, whatever you say" type responses from her companions. This new found respect moved her to new heights. Drusilla beamed gaily at Django and continued. "Mmmm, it's a night just full of life for us. I can hear trumpets and chiming wind instruments clashing together. It's a song of bold champions and ancient squabblings." Dru clapped her hands. "There's a skirmish and the war chief has an arrow in his eye. He falls and is trampled by his horse. They won't give him medals for that, will they?"
Django shook his head affectionately. "No, pet. I think the military are a bit more pickier than that. Even back then." Oh no, Django observed. Something was up. Tense wonder flitted across Drusilla's features like the descent of the sun-god. She had begun to fidget with the hem of her dress jacket. This was never good.
"They want to give something worse." Dru's eyes widened in morbid wonder. "They won't let this one lie. They'll come with knives and clubs and hunt us down to the ends of the earth. The history of a secret lineage, that's what they want to paint on our bodies." Drusilla came over all fearful and started quavering in the night air. Django wanted to comfort her, but he knew he had no such luxury. This was the click before the clock chime in "The Quick And The Dead". And it's meaning was the same.
Django drew the Smith & Wesson he had secreted in his long coat. A moving shape appeared at Drusilla's shoulder. Django fired off two shots and the assailant cried out and flew back from whence he came. Footsteps. Two assailants from behind. Django was turning to aim his gun again but Drusilla knocked him to the ground. A wave of shuriken blades flew over their heads and Django cursed. Dru pecked her brash gunslinger on the cheek and whispered, "I'll take those two love." And with that she morphed into her predatory mode with a growl in the direction of the soon to be dead.
More blades whirled through the air. This time however, Drusilla didn't have to worry about Django. There must have been a series of moves involved, but all Django saw were the two assailants flinch as their own weapons returned to them. One man grabbed his throat and that was him. A slow ballet and cold tarmac. The other had been hit in the hand and dropped the small pistol crossbow he had been reaching for. The man growled like a feral animal, trying to wrench the metal disc free of his hand. He knew the devilish fiend was approaching but could do nothing. Drusilla silently walked up to him and tore into his jugular with her fangs.
The people on the street were fleeing for cover. This was good, the young former watcher across the way noted. He was on his phone and keeping his superiors appraised of the battle. Other similar assignments had been brutal. But they hadn't descended into such bloodbaths so quickly. This task before the team was decidedly, dangerously new.
Django cursed once again as he observed two men with Uzis approaching from up ahead. He turned to shout a warning to his Dru, but in mid call it turned out to be a different warning to the one he had planned. "Look out - DRU!" A figure dressed like a Shaolin monk seemed to just appear out of mid-air. He brandished two Samurai swords. Katana and Wakizashi. The long and the short blade. Drusilla ducked in good time but the assailant had the advantage and hurried to follow up.
Desperation came to Django's aid. He saw the discarded bag of groceries on the road and dived. He fired a couple of shots in the direction of the approaching Uzi-men and grabbed a loaf of bread from the bag.
Pears across the street was getting agitated. "This is monstrous!" he cried into the phone. "Ludicrous! We've already lost three men. It's almost as if they knew of our attack beforehand."
"Please stay calm." Delgado instructed from his end of the call. "It is imperative that the vampire not get away. This is precisely why she is such a danger to us. Her powers must not be allowed to aid the cause of evil any longer."
Django hurriedly broke up pieces of bread. Good, he told himself. Dru seems to be keeping out of sword range. Just a few more seconds to go, pet. I just hope this works. Django threw the bread in the direction of Dru and her attacker. As he'd hoped, a horde of hungry pigeons flew in for the bread and startled the swordsman. Drusilla seized the chance with a surprisingly loud crack. The swordsman fell on the spot, head at an obscene angle.
"Oh my god!" Pears gasped in horror and disbelief. Tears clouded his vision. At first he was unable to say more, until the voice on the line pressed. This was a tragedy. Such a capable and noble young warrior in the service of the good fight. "Oh my god! They've killed Kenobi!"
On the other side of the line, Delgado growled as his eyes welled up. "You bastards!" he shouted, causing Pears to jump at his end.
Django was firing at the other assailants and running towards his Dru. "Did you see?" Dru whooped excitedly. "I took his head! The war chief is unhorsed!"
"Yes, I saw pet!" Django grabbed his girl by the arm and led her down a side street as bullets ricocheted around them. He only dimly grasped the significance of her words at the moment. One thing was sure to him, however. "I don't think I'm in the mood for pizza anymore love!"
"Oooh silly!" Dru punched Django on the shoulder playfully (but almost knocking him off balance) as they ran. "Sometimes the colours you turn, I could swear you was a demon."
Wasn't Florence just wonderful, Dru laughed to herself. If only the vision she'd had earlier didn't trouble her so.......
Earlier in the year. Welcome to the war zone. It was a village in Hungary that was being torn apart. Once, decades ago, the infamous vampire couple, Spike and Drusilla had spent time here. It had been a place of superstition and fear though and their visit had almost cost them their undead lives. Since then though, the village had become overrun by demons and black marketeers. Tonight that awful tyranny was coming to an end.
The lithe young woman pirouetted over the heads of the fleeing demons. She fired her twin automatic handguns at them and expertly brought down three of them. The others continued to flee, with no time to mourn their fallen comrades. "It is the devil who hunts us" they spat fearfully in Hungarian. "The bogeyman with her scythe." Indeed that was true. She had used a scythe earlier and had killed many demons with it. Since then the night had been rocked with gunfire and explosions. The demons had cried out.
The woman now sprang among the fleeing demons and cut like a tiger, flashing her long curved knife. The dark assassin moved in a blur, faster than these demons had ever seen in a human before. She growled like a feline from hell and when enough blood was spilled, she finally sheathed her blade. It was at this time that her stylish cell phone rang. Without missing a beat, the woman picked it from her fancy belt from Paris. "Who is there?" she demanded, brushing some strands of her red hair from her face. She was wearing a dark blue beret, a low-cut dark top and tight PVC pants.
She listened to the stumbling sales pitch on the other end of the call and rolled her eyes. She answered curtly and mockingly. "I see. And how do you expect to pay me for this? I see. Nope. Not interested." The woman listened to the protests. "Oh, so that should make the difference? What my idealistic, self flagellating brother gets up to is no concern of mine."
The woman laughed at the caller's plea. "I'm aware of those who would work cheaply for you. Those are the one's like Django. Amateurs who end up sleeping with the enemy. Fools who shame all our creed." She smiled with glee at the man's next words. "I see. Going after Django's vampire whore, are you? In that case I wish you luck. If you see him, tell him I ask for him. That is all!" She laughed grimly and snapped her cell phone shut. Enough. Onward to the next paying customer.
****
A hillside ruin of a temple in Budapest. The men stood and awaited what their leader had to reveal from his phone conversation. The bearded man named Delgado, irritably put his mobile phone away and sighed. The men waited expectantly. "She says she will not work for us at this time."
One of the younger men present, an idealist of course spoke up in disbelief. "Does she not know of the work we are preparing to do?"
Delgado eyed his fellow hunters gravely. "One in her line, as excellent as she, can afford to pick and choose her moral crusades. She works for the highest bidder as always. Regrettable but ...." He let his words trail off. The other men looked downward and shoe gazed. "We cannot afford to pay her what she is undoubtedly worth. We are still so few and cannot afford so much expenditure for one warrior."
Delgado sighed bitterly. There were just a few groups like theirs, scattered across the globe. All that was left of the once proud watchers. His was a splinter organisation now. The Watchers Council had grown complacent and that mistake now continued to cost the surviving operatives. Delgado had got together the operatives he could locate. Those who thought like he did.
"My friends and colleagues," Delgado began to address the assembled men, "we must not allow ourselves to blunder again. The likes of Quentin Travers and his ilk had grown lazy. We must be always on our guard and be ready at all times to take the offensive. As you are aware, we have gathered information on the whereabouts of some of our most dangerous individual enemies. Now who from our ranks shall go on these hunt and kill operations? Precision and expertise is of the utmost. We must be the ones striking fear into demon kind."
A figure suddenly darted from out of the temple ruin and somersaulted over the heads of the assembled, landing by the edge of the hillside. Delgado sighed again. Unfortunately this young man had some of his arrogant sister's sense of bravado. Need that he did not. Still, Delgado felt much respect for this youth, who was an expert in the use of Japanese swords and martial arts. He was also dedicated to the war against the dark things of the world. This honourable, noble youth cared nothing for earthly gains.
The young swordsman bowed respectfully to his peers. "Mr Delgado, let me be the one to take the task you offered to my mercenary sister. You know I can accomplish this."
"My boy." Delgado returned the bow. "You have my blessing. Yes, the assignment is yours. Assemble your team." And, Delgado added to himself, may God guide our hands as we smite down the beasts.
****
It was during the time of Django and Drusilla's travels around the world, before they had returned to the UK and domestic bliss. They had come to the Italian city of Florence and had so far, been delighted by all the wonderfully evocative architecture to be found. It was a pleasant evening. Drusilla had already had her snack for the night, when a foolish local had tried to pick her pocket. Now she was walking along merrily, resplendent in her dark, velvety evening dress. "Oooohhh, can't you just feel the statues sing to us?" Dru exulted. "What a sweet serenade it all is!"
Django smiled warmly at his girl, whom he walked beside. "Yes, love. I can feel it in fact." And it was true. There was something magical about visiting the world's beautiful places with Dru by his side. There was real magic in the air and it made Django tingle. Django wistfully blessed whichever force was out there, that had helped the couple heal their New York rift and return to mutual adoration and respect.
Drusilla was thrilled. She could tell that Django really meant his agreement with her. How used she was, to sarcastic or absentminded "yeah yeah, whatever you say" type responses from her companions. This new found respect moved her to new heights. Drusilla beamed gaily at Django and continued. "Mmmm, it's a night just full of life for us. I can hear trumpets and chiming wind instruments clashing together. It's a song of bold champions and ancient squabblings." Dru clapped her hands. "There's a skirmish and the war chief has an arrow in his eye. He falls and is trampled by his horse. They won't give him medals for that, will they?"
Django shook his head affectionately. "No, pet. I think the military are a bit more pickier than that. Even back then." Oh no, Django observed. Something was up. Tense wonder flitted across Drusilla's features like the descent of the sun-god. She had begun to fidget with the hem of her dress jacket. This was never good.
"They want to give something worse." Dru's eyes widened in morbid wonder. "They won't let this one lie. They'll come with knives and clubs and hunt us down to the ends of the earth. The history of a secret lineage, that's what they want to paint on our bodies." Drusilla came over all fearful and started quavering in the night air. Django wanted to comfort her, but he knew he had no such luxury. This was the click before the clock chime in "The Quick And The Dead". And it's meaning was the same.
Django drew the Smith & Wesson he had secreted in his long coat. A moving shape appeared at Drusilla's shoulder. Django fired off two shots and the assailant cried out and flew back from whence he came. Footsteps. Two assailants from behind. Django was turning to aim his gun again but Drusilla knocked him to the ground. A wave of shuriken blades flew over their heads and Django cursed. Dru pecked her brash gunslinger on the cheek and whispered, "I'll take those two love." And with that she morphed into her predatory mode with a growl in the direction of the soon to be dead.
More blades whirled through the air. This time however, Drusilla didn't have to worry about Django. There must have been a series of moves involved, but all Django saw were the two assailants flinch as their own weapons returned to them. One man grabbed his throat and that was him. A slow ballet and cold tarmac. The other had been hit in the hand and dropped the small pistol crossbow he had been reaching for. The man growled like a feral animal, trying to wrench the metal disc free of his hand. He knew the devilish fiend was approaching but could do nothing. Drusilla silently walked up to him and tore into his jugular with her fangs.
The people on the street were fleeing for cover. This was good, the young former watcher across the way noted. He was on his phone and keeping his superiors appraised of the battle. Other similar assignments had been brutal. But they hadn't descended into such bloodbaths so quickly. This task before the team was decidedly, dangerously new.
Django cursed once again as he observed two men with Uzis approaching from up ahead. He turned to shout a warning to his Dru, but in mid call it turned out to be a different warning to the one he had planned. "Look out - DRU!" A figure dressed like a Shaolin monk seemed to just appear out of mid-air. He brandished two Samurai swords. Katana and Wakizashi. The long and the short blade. Drusilla ducked in good time but the assailant had the advantage and hurried to follow up.
Desperation came to Django's aid. He saw the discarded bag of groceries on the road and dived. He fired a couple of shots in the direction of the approaching Uzi-men and grabbed a loaf of bread from the bag.
Pears across the street was getting agitated. "This is monstrous!" he cried into the phone. "Ludicrous! We've already lost three men. It's almost as if they knew of our attack beforehand."
"Please stay calm." Delgado instructed from his end of the call. "It is imperative that the vampire not get away. This is precisely why she is such a danger to us. Her powers must not be allowed to aid the cause of evil any longer."
Django hurriedly broke up pieces of bread. Good, he told himself. Dru seems to be keeping out of sword range. Just a few more seconds to go, pet. I just hope this works. Django threw the bread in the direction of Dru and her attacker. As he'd hoped, a horde of hungry pigeons flew in for the bread and startled the swordsman. Drusilla seized the chance with a surprisingly loud crack. The swordsman fell on the spot, head at an obscene angle.
"Oh my god!" Pears gasped in horror and disbelief. Tears clouded his vision. At first he was unable to say more, until the voice on the line pressed. This was a tragedy. Such a capable and noble young warrior in the service of the good fight. "Oh my god! They've killed Kenobi!"
On the other side of the line, Delgado growled as his eyes welled up. "You bastards!" he shouted, causing Pears to jump at his end.
Django was firing at the other assailants and running towards his Dru. "Did you see?" Dru whooped excitedly. "I took his head! The war chief is unhorsed!"
"Yes, I saw pet!" Django grabbed his girl by the arm and led her down a side street as bullets ricocheted around them. He only dimly grasped the significance of her words at the moment. One thing was sure to him, however. "I don't think I'm in the mood for pizza anymore love!"
"Oooh silly!" Dru punched Django on the shoulder playfully (but almost knocking him off balance) as they ran. "Sometimes the colours you turn, I could swear you was a demon."
Wasn't Florence just wonderful, Dru laughed to herself. If only the vision she'd had earlier didn't trouble her so.......
