Same Slayer, Different Start pt. 1
Manhattan, 9:00 pm
Following the awful scent, Whistler found himself standing in front of a pathetic, stinky, near dead male specimen. After closer inspection, he realized one undeniable thing... vampire. Standing straight, he approached the vampire.
"God are you disgusting. This is really an unforgettable smell. This is the stench of death you're giving off here. And the look of 'crazy homeless guy' is not good." "Get away from me." "What are you gonna do, bite me? Oh, horrors, a vampire. But you wouldn't bite me, on account of your poor tortured soul. So sad, a vampire with a soul, so poignant." "Who are you?" "Let's take a walk."
As they crossed the street, the vampire was so weak, he didn't notice that he was almost hit by a car. "What are you eating, what a rat once a month? Hey. Look you're skin an bones here. Butcher shop's throwing away more blood in a day than you can stand, good blood. And if you lived if the world a little bit, you'd know that." "I don't understand you." "Nobody understands me, that's my curse."
Approaching a hot dog vendor, Whistler said, "Dog me, mustard. My name is Whistler." "You're not a vampire." "Demon, technically. I mean I'm not a bad guy. Not all demons are dedicated to the destruction of all life." "What do want from me?" "I want you to see something. We'd have to leave now. You see and you tell me what you wanna do." "Where is it?"
Los Angeles...1:00 am
Outside 1352 Lancaster Blvd., Whistler and the vampire, going by the name of Angel, stood under the window of the little girl who was to be the next slayer. Climbing up the tree, Angel carefully crouched onto the branch, looking through the window. Finding a little girl, asleep in her bed, he jumped back down, thankful that he didn't make a sound.
"What's this all about?" "She's going to be the next slayer." "Her? She's only a child." "Yes, but the younger a girl is called to be the slayer, the better. The current slayer, Bridget, is in Wyoming with her own watcher, so she doesn't need you." "You want me to be her watcher?" "No. I want you to be her protector, until she is called. It doesn't matter how you get yourself in the door, as long as you do it soon. There isn't a moment to waste." "Alright, fine. But once I do get in the door, what then?" "You'll think of something. You're 265 years old. You should be able to think of a plausible scenario as to why you should be invited in." "Fine, but I can't meet her looking like this." "No problem. We'll clean you up, get you situated, then you'll meet her." "Deal."
Manhattan, 9:00 pm
Following the awful scent, Whistler found himself standing in front of a pathetic, stinky, near dead male specimen. After closer inspection, he realized one undeniable thing... vampire. Standing straight, he approached the vampire.
"God are you disgusting. This is really an unforgettable smell. This is the stench of death you're giving off here. And the look of 'crazy homeless guy' is not good." "Get away from me." "What are you gonna do, bite me? Oh, horrors, a vampire. But you wouldn't bite me, on account of your poor tortured soul. So sad, a vampire with a soul, so poignant." "Who are you?" "Let's take a walk."
As they crossed the street, the vampire was so weak, he didn't notice that he was almost hit by a car. "What are you eating, what a rat once a month? Hey. Look you're skin an bones here. Butcher shop's throwing away more blood in a day than you can stand, good blood. And if you lived if the world a little bit, you'd know that." "I don't understand you." "Nobody understands me, that's my curse."
Approaching a hot dog vendor, Whistler said, "Dog me, mustard. My name is Whistler." "You're not a vampire." "Demon, technically. I mean I'm not a bad guy. Not all demons are dedicated to the destruction of all life." "What do want from me?" "I want you to see something. We'd have to leave now. You see and you tell me what you wanna do." "Where is it?"
Los Angeles...1:00 am
Outside 1352 Lancaster Blvd., Whistler and the vampire, going by the name of Angel, stood under the window of the little girl who was to be the next slayer. Climbing up the tree, Angel carefully crouched onto the branch, looking through the window. Finding a little girl, asleep in her bed, he jumped back down, thankful that he didn't make a sound.
"What's this all about?" "She's going to be the next slayer." "Her? She's only a child." "Yes, but the younger a girl is called to be the slayer, the better. The current slayer, Bridget, is in Wyoming with her own watcher, so she doesn't need you." "You want me to be her watcher?" "No. I want you to be her protector, until she is called. It doesn't matter how you get yourself in the door, as long as you do it soon. There isn't a moment to waste." "Alright, fine. But once I do get in the door, what then?" "You'll think of something. You're 265 years old. You should be able to think of a plausible scenario as to why you should be invited in." "Fine, but I can't meet her looking like this." "No problem. We'll clean you up, get you situated, then you'll meet her." "Deal."