Chapter XIV: The hurricane.
It's cold. He feels his body go numb. Between the flashes of light he sees the faces of the paramedics monitoring his blood pressure and shouting at each other frantically as they rush him into the Operating Room. He closes his eyes and reopens them to see them exchanging instruments across him as he lies beneath them. He sees their eyes filled with tension and worry, their brows soaked in sweat from the nerves. His body quivers dramatically and he slams himself against the gurney repeatedly. The doctors put pressure on him, weighing him down with their own bodies to avoid any more injuries. The doctor to his right administers a sedative and he calms down. He hears their voices echoing in his head as he succumbs to the anesthesia and sleeps.
It's cold. They had no idea what was coming. They are worried. They have faced many challenges but each time they have prevailed. This night doesn't seem to be the case. They are faced with a being that words cannot describe how intensely and incredibly powerful it is. Shrouded in darkness, they prepare to battle him. Illyria dodges the incoming swing of its sword and as its back is turned grabs hold of him from behind. She twists her lower torso and launches it through the air to the second floor of the warehouse.
Spike: (lying on the ground muttering intensely to himself) "No, no, no, no, no, no. Can't win, can't win." (shouts) "L-Lyria! Get out!"
He jumps to his feet and grabs Illyria just as she's headed towards the stairs. He pulls her and runs frantically towards the stairs, when he's cut off by the swing of the adversary's sword. Spike doges it by jumping backwards just as it lunges forward at him with the sword again. Spike rolls around and crawls backwards desperately seeking some room between himself and his adversary.
Illyria walks up to it and swings her arms in attempt to grab hold of it, but it slams the sword on the floor and grabs hold of the hilt, swinging from it and coming full circle with its feet. Illyria gets slammed against the wall at the other end of the room, nearly sixty feet from where she was standing. She sits up and feels blood coming out of her mouth, blood darker and colder than it is humanly possible. She tries to stand up, but her chest is heaving to frantically from the strain.
She pushes herself to her feet and watches as it comes twisting and twirling through the air with the sword clasped in its fingers as if it were a part of its form. She dodges by launching herself forward and rolling beneath it but immediately after falling on her feet she turns around to see the blade coming straight towards her face.
Spike stands to his feet by holding to the railing on the stairs. He can't see very well and that is killing him. He desperately wants out of there. He fears this creature unlike any before he has met. He turns around and looks towards the catwalk on the second floor and gazes at a couple of metal pikes on its floor. He runs up the stairs pushing himself through the railings and slips just as he turns towards the catwalk. He holds on to the end of the railing and shoves his body against it. He runs frantically towards the pikes and grabs one from the floor, keeping up the pace from the impulse. He looks down beneath him and sees Illyria rolling beneath her attacker to his bottom left. He runs towards the wall directly at the end of the catwalk and with a fury that equals that of a thousand warriors he jump-kicks the machinery to his right launching himself, screaming, through the air with the pike coming in first against it.
The adversary stops the blade just an inch away from Illyria's eyes and jumps backwards flipping through the air with such agility and grace that it amazes even them. Spike grabs Illyria by the arm just as he lands and looks her directly in the eye.
Spike: "We're leaving... now!"
They turn towards him and see that he's standing by the doorway, effectively blocking their escape. They turn and run towards the stairs as there are windows near the catwalk. But just as quickly as they turn it's blocking their route yet again. The speed of its breathing exceeds any that is possible. Its nose blaring a loud and rasping aspiration that makes their spines twitch. Its eyes penetrating their cold, dead hearts; stabbing them from the distance.
Illyria takes up the front position leaving Spike to cower behind her; inviting their adversary to proceed with its attack. It runs at them shrieking as it swings its sword, but just as it's about to connect, Spike grabs hold of Illyria's hands and double kicks her stomach, shoving her aside, just as the blade hits the ground beside him. The adversary turns towards him and Spike pushes himself away from it by crawling through the ground. It walks towards him pacing itself and twisting and twirling its sword arrogantly.
Spike's back hits a wall and the adversary grabs hold of the sword with both hands. Then without notice it spreads its legs falling to the ground just as Illyria swings the metal Spike aimed directly at its head. The adversary twists and turns towards her, swinging back to its feet. It lunges at Illyria and they fight swinging their weapons until with her brute strength and intense anger she knocks the sword out of its hands.
Spike sees this but can't stand up. He tries pushing himself with his knees but they slip and he reclines on the wall, desperately trying to muster strength. Illyria swings the metal pike around as if it were a Japanese Katana until the adversary grabs hold of it and twists her arm around, breaking her elbow with the sheer power of his pull. Spike gasps in horror as the adversary grabs her by the neck, pulls her in and twists her head backwards, effectively breaking her neck in a loud crunching sound that makes him grit his teeth.
Drowned in his own scream, Spike jumps towards it with anger and sorrow in his eyes. The adversary calmly picks its sword from the floor and turns towards Spike swinging it without effort. Spike dodges the subsequent blows by backing down as they come but then, as another attack comes flying at him, his back hits the wall. The adversary twists again, and just as it quickly as it comes it stops.
Wes: (shouting intensely) "Norin!"
The adversary turns his head around and looks at him. Its eyes gap and their darkness expose a strange emotion that perhaps it has never seen before. He looks at him with surprise. Surprise of hearing his name for the first time. Nobody that had speech to name him had ever lived long enough or was brave enough to call it out loud. Perhaps of fear bringing him forth. Or perhaps the mere notion that a being such as that had a name was too inconceivable. It was forgotten... and he thought he had forgotten too. That it had never existed.
Wes: "I know why you're here."
Norin turns around completely dropping the sword to his side. Spike falls flat against the wall and as he attempts to mutter words directed at Wesley, he falls to the ground and passes out; blood dripping out of his mouth and chest.
The adversary looks at Wesley and he stares him down.
Wes: (cont.) "I can help you, but you have to leave."
Norin jerks his head to the side. A short yet loud crunching sound echoes through the warehouse.
Wes: (cont.) "I need you to trust me."
Norin: (in a dark, rasping voice) "T-Trust?"
Wes: "I know you can understand me. Leave this place now... and I'll give you what you want."
Norin: (points towards Illyria with his Katana) "Demon."
Wes: "Yes... but I need her."
Norin looks at Wes. Its eyes turn cold and dead. He shrieks intensely and runs towards Wes. He pulls out his twin pistols and shoots repeatedly but Norin deflects the bullets with the sword. Wes drops the guns and stretches but arms revealing twin wrist-swords. As Norin approaches Wes crosses swords with him, landing a kick in the creature's stomach. Norin jumps backwards and twirls around, using the impulse to swing its sword thus shattering both of Wes' weapons.
Wesley stumbles back and Norin grabs hold of him. Wes conjures a fireball with his left hand and slams it across its face. Norin shouts in pain, but doesn't let go of him. As a result of that action, it grabs Wesley's left arm and slices it off with a clean cut from its sword. Wes eyes open wide from the shock inflicted by the pain. He falls to his knees holding his stump and watches as Norin drops his forearm in front of him.
The Arathma'aet swings its sword yet once more and a line of blood paints the floor in front of Wesley. He falls to the ground and looks at the ensemble of bodies across the floor. Twenty humans, a vampire and an Old One.
It's been a good night for the hunter.
-- End.
It's cold. He feels his body go numb. Between the flashes of light he sees the faces of the paramedics monitoring his blood pressure and shouting at each other frantically as they rush him into the Operating Room. He closes his eyes and reopens them to see them exchanging instruments across him as he lies beneath them. He sees their eyes filled with tension and worry, their brows soaked in sweat from the nerves. His body quivers dramatically and he slams himself against the gurney repeatedly. The doctors put pressure on him, weighing him down with their own bodies to avoid any more injuries. The doctor to his right administers a sedative and he calms down. He hears their voices echoing in his head as he succumbs to the anesthesia and sleeps.
It's cold. They had no idea what was coming. They are worried. They have faced many challenges but each time they have prevailed. This night doesn't seem to be the case. They are faced with a being that words cannot describe how intensely and incredibly powerful it is. Shrouded in darkness, they prepare to battle him. Illyria dodges the incoming swing of its sword and as its back is turned grabs hold of him from behind. She twists her lower torso and launches it through the air to the second floor of the warehouse.
Spike: (lying on the ground muttering intensely to himself) "No, no, no, no, no, no. Can't win, can't win." (shouts) "L-Lyria! Get out!"
He jumps to his feet and grabs Illyria just as she's headed towards the stairs. He pulls her and runs frantically towards the stairs, when he's cut off by the swing of the adversary's sword. Spike doges it by jumping backwards just as it lunges forward at him with the sword again. Spike rolls around and crawls backwards desperately seeking some room between himself and his adversary.
Illyria walks up to it and swings her arms in attempt to grab hold of it, but it slams the sword on the floor and grabs hold of the hilt, swinging from it and coming full circle with its feet. Illyria gets slammed against the wall at the other end of the room, nearly sixty feet from where she was standing. She sits up and feels blood coming out of her mouth, blood darker and colder than it is humanly possible. She tries to stand up, but her chest is heaving to frantically from the strain.
She pushes herself to her feet and watches as it comes twisting and twirling through the air with the sword clasped in its fingers as if it were a part of its form. She dodges by launching herself forward and rolling beneath it but immediately after falling on her feet she turns around to see the blade coming straight towards her face.
Spike stands to his feet by holding to the railing on the stairs. He can't see very well and that is killing him. He desperately wants out of there. He fears this creature unlike any before he has met. He turns around and looks towards the catwalk on the second floor and gazes at a couple of metal pikes on its floor. He runs up the stairs pushing himself through the railings and slips just as he turns towards the catwalk. He holds on to the end of the railing and shoves his body against it. He runs frantically towards the pikes and grabs one from the floor, keeping up the pace from the impulse. He looks down beneath him and sees Illyria rolling beneath her attacker to his bottom left. He runs towards the wall directly at the end of the catwalk and with a fury that equals that of a thousand warriors he jump-kicks the machinery to his right launching himself, screaming, through the air with the pike coming in first against it.
The adversary stops the blade just an inch away from Illyria's eyes and jumps backwards flipping through the air with such agility and grace that it amazes even them. Spike grabs Illyria by the arm just as he lands and looks her directly in the eye.
Spike: "We're leaving... now!"
They turn towards him and see that he's standing by the doorway, effectively blocking their escape. They turn and run towards the stairs as there are windows near the catwalk. But just as quickly as they turn it's blocking their route yet again. The speed of its breathing exceeds any that is possible. Its nose blaring a loud and rasping aspiration that makes their spines twitch. Its eyes penetrating their cold, dead hearts; stabbing them from the distance.
Illyria takes up the front position leaving Spike to cower behind her; inviting their adversary to proceed with its attack. It runs at them shrieking as it swings its sword, but just as it's about to connect, Spike grabs hold of Illyria's hands and double kicks her stomach, shoving her aside, just as the blade hits the ground beside him. The adversary turns towards him and Spike pushes himself away from it by crawling through the ground. It walks towards him pacing itself and twisting and twirling its sword arrogantly.
Spike's back hits a wall and the adversary grabs hold of the sword with both hands. Then without notice it spreads its legs falling to the ground just as Illyria swings the metal Spike aimed directly at its head. The adversary twists and turns towards her, swinging back to its feet. It lunges at Illyria and they fight swinging their weapons until with her brute strength and intense anger she knocks the sword out of its hands.
Spike sees this but can't stand up. He tries pushing himself with his knees but they slip and he reclines on the wall, desperately trying to muster strength. Illyria swings the metal pike around as if it were a Japanese Katana until the adversary grabs hold of it and twists her arm around, breaking her elbow with the sheer power of his pull. Spike gasps in horror as the adversary grabs her by the neck, pulls her in and twists her head backwards, effectively breaking her neck in a loud crunching sound that makes him grit his teeth.
Drowned in his own scream, Spike jumps towards it with anger and sorrow in his eyes. The adversary calmly picks its sword from the floor and turns towards Spike swinging it without effort. Spike dodges the subsequent blows by backing down as they come but then, as another attack comes flying at him, his back hits the wall. The adversary twists again, and just as it quickly as it comes it stops.
Wes: (shouting intensely) "Norin!"
The adversary turns his head around and looks at him. Its eyes gap and their darkness expose a strange emotion that perhaps it has never seen before. He looks at him with surprise. Surprise of hearing his name for the first time. Nobody that had speech to name him had ever lived long enough or was brave enough to call it out loud. Perhaps of fear bringing him forth. Or perhaps the mere notion that a being such as that had a name was too inconceivable. It was forgotten... and he thought he had forgotten too. That it had never existed.
Wes: "I know why you're here."
Norin turns around completely dropping the sword to his side. Spike falls flat against the wall and as he attempts to mutter words directed at Wesley, he falls to the ground and passes out; blood dripping out of his mouth and chest.
The adversary looks at Wesley and he stares him down.
Wes: (cont.) "I can help you, but you have to leave."
Norin jerks his head to the side. A short yet loud crunching sound echoes through the warehouse.
Wes: (cont.) "I need you to trust me."
Norin: (in a dark, rasping voice) "T-Trust?"
Wes: "I know you can understand me. Leave this place now... and I'll give you what you want."
Norin: (points towards Illyria with his Katana) "Demon."
Wes: "Yes... but I need her."
Norin looks at Wes. Its eyes turn cold and dead. He shrieks intensely and runs towards Wes. He pulls out his twin pistols and shoots repeatedly but Norin deflects the bullets with the sword. Wes drops the guns and stretches but arms revealing twin wrist-swords. As Norin approaches Wes crosses swords with him, landing a kick in the creature's stomach. Norin jumps backwards and twirls around, using the impulse to swing its sword thus shattering both of Wes' weapons.
Wesley stumbles back and Norin grabs hold of him. Wes conjures a fireball with his left hand and slams it across its face. Norin shouts in pain, but doesn't let go of him. As a result of that action, it grabs Wesley's left arm and slices it off with a clean cut from its sword. Wes eyes open wide from the shock inflicted by the pain. He falls to his knees holding his stump and watches as Norin drops his forearm in front of him.
The Arathma'aet swings its sword yet once more and a line of blood paints the floor in front of Wesley. He falls to the ground and looks at the ensemble of bodies across the floor. Twenty humans, a vampire and an Old One.
It's been a good night for the hunter.
-- End.