Author: Bobby Cox smeghead_76@dodo.com.au
Disclaimer: Some of the characters are mine. Some aren't. The 'verse in which this is set, however, belongs to Peter F. Hamilton (the 'Night's Dawn' trilogy 'verse). There may or may not be characters and situations belonging to ME productions and the team that writes Buffy. I'm just covering my arse there. No money will be made from this, but if someone *thinks* it's good enough to make money, I'd be flattered :)
Summary: This is a parallel story to 'In Their Shadow' by rei_ite (and later on, myself), and provides back-story for Xander's activities on Earth. Basically, vampires and the Light Bringer sect - a Satanic cult (no, really!) - are starting to bump heads with each other in the Downtown section of the Los Angeles arcology. Normally, the authorities wouldn't pay too much attention to something like this.
However, when the fighting spills over to the Uptown sections...
AN: The follwing text formats will be used for datavises and affinity:
Affinity will be represented as such: AffinityDatavises will be represented as such:{Datavise}
'Arcology infrastructure services such as public transport are almost non-existent - in fact, even basic amenities such as clean water and a reliable power supply are erratic. Education and employment opportunities are equally bad, verging on non-existent. Parents are forced to work long hours to keep starvation at bay, leaving children at day clubs for far longer than they should be while they labor to bring in even a minimum wage under work-pay schemes.
'Is it any wonder, then, that arcology crime figures reveal that up to ninety percent of some categories of criminal offences (such as assault, larceny and homicide) are committed in the Downtown sectors?
'Is it any wonder, then, that rumours of Satanic cults flourishing in the Downtown sectors are so abundant? If you were living like that, wouldn't you jump at anything that promised a better life?
'We say, ENOUGH! We live in an era where interstellar travel is routine, and still far too many of our fellow human beings are forced to live in conditions that would be condemned as dire by animal-liberation organizations. Well, we aim to be a *human*-liberation organization.
'Liberation from poverty. Liberation from poor education. Liberation from medieval living conditions.
'Enough is enough.'
- 'Downtowners Are People, Too' (2614)
Vampire nest
Sunnydale Dome, Los Angeles arcology
27th May, 2614
Things were going reasonably well, and almost according to plan. The number of fledglings was increasing steadily and, because he'd limited the area of operations to the Downtown areas, without attracting the attention of the Municipal Authority - particularly the police, who would have little or no hesitation in sending in the Assault Tactical squads.
Master vampire Henrik Jonsson was almost four hundred years old. In that time, he had seen humanity expand from its fortified enclaves on an environmentally-ravaged planet to an interstellar civilisation. It was nice to see that, in all that time, humanity hadn't lost touch with their dark side. Terrorists using nukes and antimatter devices to achieve their aims. Inter- and intra- system naval skirmishes, sometimes blowing up into full-scale war. The sterilisation of Garissa by Omutans using antimatter planetbusters, resulting in ninety-five million deaths and a planet incapable of sustaining life for the next quarter-million years or so. Stuff like that.
It was a great time to be a creature of the Darkness.
Jonsson had no illusions as to what he was. If he had ever entertained any such illusions, four hundred years of existence had burned them out of his system. And if he still nurtured any doubts, all he had to do was look at the collection of artefacts with which he decorated every nest he resided in.
The skulls of the four Slayers that he had killed with his bare hands. And above them, in a place of honour...
The skull of Elizabeth Anne 'Buffy' Summers, the only Slayer ever to have died of old age, rather than at the hands of a demon or vampire. It had cost him a few not-so-small fortunes, and locating Summers' gravesite had taken a considerable amount of time, but money was nothing to him, and if he was reasonably careful, neither was time.
Alongside Summers' skull was a high-quality static hologram - also expensive, as was the original image it was taken from - of Summers' support group, the so-called 'Slayerettes'. They had been the reason that Summers had lived to a ripe old age, and had entered vampire legend as the closest thing that vampires had to a bogeyman. For Jonsson, it served as a reminder of what could happen.
As near as he could determine, the current Slayer had no such support mechanism. Sure, she had some helpers, but they didn't even come close to the deadly efficiency that the Slayerettes had supposedly possessed, even allowing for the distortion of the facts that was inherent in all legends.
All of this meant that the plan could go ahead as scheduled. It had taken many years of research and waiting. Research to find the American Hellmouth - there was one on every continent except Antarctica, even if only one was active at any one time - and waiting until the expansion and migration of the Los Angeles arcology put a dome over it. After all, not even a vampire could survive unprotected the full fury of an armada storm.
But now that the Sunnydale Dome had been opened for habitation...
His musings were interrupted by a commotion at the entrance. One of his more recent childer - some thought identified the demonhost as Steven - was returning, with a limp body draped over his shoulder. Obviously, he'd decided to turn someone. Which wasn't really surprising. Fledglings were keen on getting someone lower down the pecking order than them, as when pissed-off master vampires feel like staking someone on general principles, they usually start with the youngest and weakest.
Dumping the body on one of the thin mattresses used for placing the newly turned until they woke up again, Steven approached Jonsson and dropped to one knee. "Master, I bring news," he started.
"Speak, my childe. Tell me what you have discovered," Jonsson prompted. Sure, the whole affair was somewhat archaic, but it served to remind everyone exactly who was boss.
"The Light Bringer sects are becoming more active, Master. They are sending out armed acolytes to patrol the area. I encountered one, and decided to turn him in order to discover what the sect suspects," Steven said, then bowed his head to await his Master's pronouncement.
Jonsson thought for a moment. Steven had displayed commendable initiative, and intelligence beyond most fledglings. That made him someone to keep an eye on, not only for future advancement, but in case the initiative and intelligence came with ambition. It always did, of course, but exactly how much was unknown.
In fact, Steven was a former sect member himself, and the information he had provided had been most useful. But information has a limited life span and new information was required. The newest addition should prove useful.
"You have done well, youngster. What was he armed with?"
"A TIP pistol and a fission blade, Master. He was also skilled in their use, although I suspect that some of his skill came from neural nanonic programs. If I had been even a fraction slower, I doubt that I would have survived to report."
Well, that was interesting. Initiative, intelligence, and an understanding of his limitations. He was definitely someone worth keeping an eye on. "And you believe that his more recent of the sect's activities will be of some use," Jonsson mused.
"Yes, Master," Steven replied, which came as no surprise. A fledgling did not disagree with his Master unless he was suicidal or had a damned good reason.
Jonsson raised his voice so that all of his minions currently present could hear him. "Begin acquiring weapons - small arms, for now - and step up surveillance on both the Light Bringer sects and the Slayer. It is unlikely that they will form an alliance, but stranger things have happened."
He swept the room with his eyes, and whenever his gaze fell upon a minion, that minion stopped what they were doing until he finished speaking. "Also, being the preparations for the Summoning, and initiate the procedure for getting in contact with the Order of Teraka.
"But above all, do not draw attention to yourselves. The last thing we want are the police tactical squads, or worse, Govcentral Internal Security Division agents, starting to pay an interest into our activities.
"The day is approaching fast when we will once again rule this world as is our destiny. Events are falling into place... but disaster is only one mistake away, and if you make that mistake, pray that it kills you before I do. Now, get back to your duties."
Having both inspired his minions and reminded them of the consequences of failure - a horrible, drawn-out death - Jonsson went back to his planning.
The sects believed that fear alone was enough to get results. What utter crap. Fear was a useful tool, but you also needed to reward success, which was not something the sects did too well.
Having a backup plan - or better yet, several backup plans that could be implemented independently depending on exactly what had gone wrong couldn't hurt, either.