Chapter Seven:
Sounds, a Slayer, Jarlkarlones, and Kidnapped
Lorne was beginning to worry whether or not he'd catch back up with Lindsey. He should've killed Lindsey immediately, no hesitation. Instead he had decided to feel guilty and let the bastard slip through his fingers. If Lindsey had already found Angel--assuming, of course, that Angel was still alive--then one of them was probably dead.
Lorne was feeling horrible about not completing his job. The only job he was given. The easiest job that any of them had been given to be frank about it.
The city of Los Angeles was a strange and alien place now. Even stranger than last year when the sun had been blotted out. Even more alien than it had seemed when he had first arrived from his home dimension.
Lorne began whistling that old song "Jeepers Creepers". The sound echoed out through the silent buildings and back to him. He was amazed that the city was so quiet. Hadn't the Apocalypse started already? Hadn't that army of demons been unleashed on them all? It must've been because he had heard the battle the night he had attempted to kill Lindsey. He had heard it a couple of times earlier in this day and the last day, too.
He had a sinking feeling that he was missing out on everything, that the Apocalypse was either already stopped, or already accomplished. He was afraid, suddenly, that he would never see another living, civilized being as long as he lived because they were all dead.
He wondered if Spike was dead or not. He wondered what exactly Spike had done. He also wondered why he was thinking about Spike. He had just been thinking about the Apocalypse and such a minute ago. Why the sudden change in direction of his train of thought?
For several minutes he attempted to get Spike out of his head. The effects of Spike's confrontation were much worse on him than the others. He just couldn't stop the continuous line of thoughts about Spike.
After those several minutes it passed and his train of thought was back to normal despite having been momentarily lost.
"Jeepers, creepers, where'd you get those peepers?" he sang silently under his breath. "Jeepers, creepers, where'd you get those eyes?"
He kept walking through the darkening day. It was around this time that Bob and Drusilla had made their first move at the city limits. It was also at this time that Oz began to change again far outside of Los Angeles. Lorne kept walking, unaware of these events, and kept whistling and, at some points, singing.
Soon the sun had fallen below the horizon and the full moon was shining brightly down on the world along with thousands, perhaps millions, perhaps billions of sparkling stars. Lorne was grateful for the full moon; there were no street lights anymore and no passing cars with their high beams glaring at the night. It was still hard to see due to the lack of great light, but it was made much easier because of the moon.
Lorne stopped at an apartment complex's stoop and sat down on it. He had been walking most of the day and needed a rest. Not to mention something to drink and something to eat.
"Should've popped 'im when you had the chance Lorney - boy," he murmured to himself. "Should've made sure he was dead. Ah… too late for that all now. Just gotta keep moving Lorne. Just gotta keep your feet going. Feets don't fail me now. Gotta find him soon."
It wasn't a very good speech, and it certainly wasn't motivating. If it weren't for the following he would've fallen asleep on that stoop and lost a good seven or eight hours.
Before he fell asleep, however, he heard a rhythmic tapping sound coming from close by. He stared out into the darkness as the sound came closer, and closer, and closer.
"Oh," Lorne whispered to himself. "No."
He knew that sound. He had heard it once shortly after his birth in his home dimension. It wasn't a common creature to stumble upon, nor was it a nonviolent one either. If you saw it your body would be torn in half and trampled before you could think to move out of the thing's view.
"No, no, no. You guys are here? No, no, no."
Lorne ran into the apartment complex and hid next to the door. He didn't make a lot of the noise in the process and, thank God for small favors, the creatures he was hiding from had very poor hearing.
The tapping sound grew quite a bit louder, and then it decreased in volume. It was leaving him alone. Luckily it hadn't seen him. Lorne let out a sigh of relief. There was another reason to find Angel. He needed to be warned about those things.
He needed to be warned about the Jarlkarlones.
Meanwhile…
Gunn was walking down the darkening street. Not too long ago he had found himself thinking of Spike for no reason at all. That had passed and he had gone back to his business.
While he was walking down said darkening street, he was rubbing his stomach slightly. The wound had been stitched up and pain killers had been administered, but it still hurt, even if only vaguely.
Initiative soldiers were bustling about. He could hear distant gun shots. The Mochlackdangodenacks had apparently not been as strong as they had all initially assumed. And the army had only possessed one dragon and one of those big things other than the Mochlackdangodenacks. A pathetic excuse for an army when you're going against a bunch of Slayers, two possible Champions, an army of soldiers trained for killing demons, probably the most powerful witch you'll ever find, and an ex - god, not to mention a street - fighter like himself. The bastards didn't know who they were up against. Gunn chuckled a bit at that. Thousands of demons and it constituted as a weak - ass army. That had to be a first.
"Uh, excuse me?" a feminine voice called from behind him. Gunn turned around quickly enough to send a fresh wave of pain over himself. He tried not to show that the pain was affecting him so.
"Yeah?" Gunn called back. He looked at the woman who had called. She was young--couldn't have been older than nineteen--and blonde. He liked her already. She was beautiful, too. Gunn flashed a less - than - charming smile that the young woman found strikingly funny. She struggled to keep her face straight.
"Hey, you wouldn't happen to know where I could find Buffy, would you?" she asked hopefully, still fighting back a threatening and impolite smile.
"Buffy?" Gunn asked. "Last time I saw her she was heading to Angel's tent over on the other side of the base. She could probably be with that old English guy with the glasses now, though."
"Giles," she informed him.
"Hmm?"
"The old English guy with the glasses' name is Giles."
"Yeah. Can you make it to his quarters? And by quarters I mean a disgusting tent full of musty, old books about demons. Not the most pleasant of places to be."
He thought his joke had cracked her up, but she was really smiling because of his smile from earlier.
"I know where Giles is," she replied. "Me and the other Slayers have only had to listen to him blabber on about the Apocalypse six times since coming here."
"You're a Slayer?" Gunn exclaimed.
"Yeah."
"Cool. What's your name?"
"Monique Ortiz. You?"
"Charles Gunn. Just call me 'Gunn', though. Were you involved with that whole the First thing last year?"
"Nah. They just found me and explained to me what I was two months ago. Staking vampires and battling demons isn't the best way to keep a healthy social life."
"I figured."
"It can be hell keeping it a secret. Especially when you need to go away for God knows how long to Los Angeles for seemingly no reason at all. This Apocalypse sucks."
"Huh."
" 'Huh' what?"
"You don't seem scared."
"Scared of what?"
"The end of the world."
"That? No. I've read up on all of the other apocalypses in the last decade or so. Seems that they've all been stopped with few casualties. So, I figure, why should this one be any different?"
The two of them were now walking back into the depths of the base side - by - side.
"Good point. But I'd still be scared if I were you."
"Why?"
"Because it's an apocalypse that hasn't disappeared into the forgotten past. It might not be avoided."
Monique looked up at Gunn, then back to where she was walking. "Didn't think about it that way. I don't think it's best to think about things like that."
The tents were more crowded together now in the street and the sidewalks, exposed by the battery - operated street lights lining the street. Giles's tent was two blocks away.
"Probably right about that Monique. And I don't want to cause you a lot of worry. Sorry about that."
"No, it's okay. I don't mind a bit of worrying. I don't worry about things I can't control."
"An admiral characteristic. I couldn't stop worrying the first time I stumbled over my first apocalypse."
He didn't want to tell her that this was the fabled THE Apocalypse, not AN Apocalypse. That would dampen her spirits more than likely. It had his for a few hours.
"If I die, I die. Didn't have a lot to live for anyway. My death wouldn't be a great loss."
"I thought you were Slayer."
"Yeah."
"Then what are you talking about not being a great loss? All Slayers are worth a hell of a lot to the good in the world."
"Nice little theory you've got there. One flaw, though. Potential Slayers and Slayers alike were dropping like flies last year. The world hasn't gotten much worse since. It's gotten better, actually. Until now that is."
Gunn opened his mouth to say something more, but Buffy showed up at that moment.
"Hey Gunn. Hey Monique. What's your report?"
"Team A went over areas 1 - A, 1 -B, and 1 - C. They found a group of the demons in 1 - A and exterminated them. Team B went over areas 2 - A, 2 - B, and 2 - C. None were found. Team C and Team D have not reported back. Team E lost half of its soldiers in area 5 - D, where an exceptionally large group was located. No Slayer casualties were suffered."
"That's good to know," Buffy replied. "What about Teams F through Z?"
"Joanna and Naomi report for them."
"Oh. Right."
Gunn, feeling uncomfortable standing there and doing nothing, went off on a stroll around the base.
Meanwhile…
The moon was out now. It was full. Oz stared at it as he shrieked in pain as his body contorted and morphed into its Lycanthrope form. He begged it to stop. He wanted control again. He wanted his hard - earned control back.
He heard the truck screech to a stop and heard as the driver hurried out of the seat.
Toby was carrying his tranquilizer rifle and was running around to the back of the truck when suddenly the Lycanthrope leapt out at him.
"Shit!" he shouted as he was hurled to the ground. The weight of the werewolf was lifted off of him and he heard the Lycanthrope charging away. Toby got to his feet and saw the werewolf was at least a hundred yards away now, dirt and grass being pulled up by its claws as it charged across the flat terrain. The highway they had been driving down was barren, so it was just him and this Oz.
Toby aimed his rifle at the Lycanthrope. He tracked its progress with his scope. He pulled the trigger and the tranquilizer dart shot out of the rifle's muzzle with great speed. Less than a second later it was injecting its drugs into Oz's body.
Oz came to a stop first not because of the drugs, but because he suddenly thought of a blonde vampire that his werewolf mind was not familiar with. Then he fell to the ground and sent up a cloud of dust.
A minute or so later Toby reached him and stood over him with his rifle slung over his shoulder. "You son of a bitch," he muttered. He was thoroughly dreading the experience of dragging Oz back to the truck, but the sooner it was done the better.
"You could just pick 'im up like before," a cockeye accented voice said from behind Toby. Toby turned around slowly, believing he knew who it was.
"Hello, dick."
"Isn't that just typical of you? Use my name to your advantage to insult me." Richard then chuckled. He looked like Spike now, not that Toby knew that. "It's a bit obvious, though. But, I must state, once again, that you… are not my friend."
Suddenly the vision of Spike put a tooth pick in its mouth and started chewing on it loudly. "Are you a Stephen King reader?"
"No," Toby replied simply, and a little impatiently.
"Then you wouldn't understand this reference to ol' Beaver from "Dreamcatcher" whood ya?"
"Are you gonna help me with this werewolf here or not?"
"Guess you wouldn't. Anywho, he'll be light to you now. You might want to hurry. Some stuff has already started up without ya."
Toby picked up the werewolf, once again baffled at how the huge thing could weigh so little, and then took one step forward before stopping. Richard's jaw was hanging open and the tooth pick had dropped out. Richard was staring behind Toby.
Toby turned around slowly and when he saw what Richard saw his face drained of all color.
The light wasn't good enough for him to see anything but the shape of the monster that was standing not too far away, but the shape was enough. It had dozens of tentacles whipping the air around its twelve foot body. It had three heads like the Cerberus from Greek mythology. Four muscular arms spread out from the center of its body and each had five joints instead of one like a human arms. Each of the arms was tipped with a three - clawed, large hand that looked very prepared to slash him into four pieces with one swipe. No, not prepared; they looked just itching to do so. And then the legs. The six legs that were all extending from its bottom. In the middle of the six legs was a tail that had a large club at the end of its twenty - foot stretch.
Toby knew what it was, but he didn't want to admit it. He didn't want to admit that he was staring at a Jarlkarlone.
He spun around back to Richard, his legs feeling like they would give out beneath him at any moment. Richard looked at him.
"RUN!" he hollered, and Toby did so, werewolf in arms.
It seemed to take a million years for him to reach his truck when it was really only a half minute. He tossed Oz into the back of the truck and scrambled into the driver's seat. He could feel the ground shaking as the Jarlkarlone advanced on them. He struggled to turn his keys and the engine sputtered to life.
Toby slammed down on the gas pedal while throwing a glance out the window at the Jarlkarlone. Excuse me, now it was Jarlkarlones. Three or four had joined the first… and they were all barreling at his truck bellowing war cries at the air. Their feet made terrible tapping sounds that were less than unbearable.
Toby had a fleeting image of the Jarlklarlone wearing tap - dancing shoes and dancing on a stage that nearly made him smile.
Then his truck was speeding down the empty highway away from the growing number of pursuing Jarlkarlones. Thirty - five was the final number of them that eventually joined the following group… and three - hundred and sixty - two was the number of those that didn't.
By the time morning came rolling around there were a hundred more on Earth.
Meanwhile… again…
Connor hit the brakes and his car came to a screeching halt. His headlights shone upon a burly man wearing a leather jacket, blue jeans, and a white tee - shirt beneath the jacket. His head was bald like a cue - ball, he had beard stubble, and his mustache was a goatee.
The man was standing in the middle of the road with blood spattered all over the left side of his face. His eyes were glazed over a little and he looked like a zombie. Connor rolled down his window and leaned out with a concerned--but not frightened; he had dealt with a lot of things that were worse than this--look on his face.
"Sir?" he called out.
"What?" the man replied.
"Do you need help?"
"Does who need what now?"
"Sir?"
"What's a Bejorknal?" the man asked, sounding quite curious. Connor then realized that this man must be in shock… or something along those lines anyway.
Connor opened his car door and stepped out into the bitterly cold night air. He cautiously approached the man. "What's your name?"
"I like cookies with asteroids."
"Well, I like cookies with asteroids, why don't you get into the back of my car and tell me what happ--"
Connor stopped abruptly. There was someone behind him. Actually, there were two people behind him. He could sense them. Some of his supernatural abilities had come back to him with along with his memories.
"THE MAN'S A GENIOUS WITH SPRINKLES AND NUTS!" the man with the goatee and dazed look in his eyes shrieked and then ran off into the night like some sort of superhero… but a superhero that ran like a woman with arthritis.
Connor spun around and found himself looking at two forms. One was a beautiful woman who looked like her mind was in a different place, and he could tell that one was a vampire. The other was a tall man wearing patched up clothes that looked like they included bits and pieces of clothing from every time period of human civilization. He wasn't quite sure what this one was. The man seemed more human than the woman, but he also seemed like a demon.
"It's Darla's son!" the vampire exclaimed, not seeming very interested. "He's got his mother's eyes… but his father's hair. That's bad. I detest that vampire's hair."
"Hello Connor," the man said simply. "I'm Bob. This is Drusilla. She's your sister seeing as how your father sired her. Say 'hello brother, dear' Dru."
"Hello brother, dear."
Connor, being completely and utterly confused and not quite certain if he was hallucinating or not, raised his hand in greeting slowly.
"It seems your brother here was heading back into Los Angeles to help Angel out with his apocalypse. Can that be allowed?"
"No…"
"Then it's settled. Connor. Come with us and we'll let you live for a bit."
Connor immediately took a defensive position. "I'm not coming with you."
"You probably don't know if I'm human or demon, do you? To be frank with you, I'm a human and not a demon. I may have a little demon in me, which has allowed me to endure living a good two million years, but I'm human. If I were a normal human you could take me, but I have that little extra bit of demon in me that makes it quite the opposite. See, I can take you now. If you do refuse to come with me and your sister, I'll snap your neck like a twig."
"Why do you want to take me alive?"
"Mostly to enrage your father. I heard he sacrificed his entire relationship with you so that you could have a good life. Did you ever wonder if he actually did that to get you the hell out of his life? Just a suggestion Connor."
Bob then climbed in behind the wheel of Connor's car and Drusilla got into the driver's side. Connor, now moving not of his own free will, walked over to the back door and climbed in. Bob looked back at him and smiled. "Good boy."
Then Connor's seat belt floated over his body and trapped him in the seat. Then the back doors both locked simultaneously. Connor didn't have a button to push in order to accomplish that.
Bob had many great abilities. He could move things and he could control people for a certain amount of time. He could even alter matter if he set his mind to it. He could make the ground turn to a liquid substance if he wanted to.
The car's wheels began spinning as Bob stepped on the gas pedal. Then they moved faster when he made a connection with them in his mind.
The car sped into Los Angeles. Connor was now in the hands of the enemy.
()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()
Hey, MorbidMan here. Hope you enjoyed this one. It took me two days to write. I don't have much to put down here other than to thank my reviewers (in particular Violet SS and Imzadi, along with Tariq and DZ Dillinger, sorry to angelcordy fan, but I won't include dead characters in this story). That's a so long until next chapter. Thank you London (don't ask)! Good night!
"Heh, heh. Check it out Butthead. This chick has three boobs!" - Beavis "Beavis and Butthead"
Sounds, a Slayer, Jarlkarlones, and Kidnapped
Lorne was beginning to worry whether or not he'd catch back up with Lindsey. He should've killed Lindsey immediately, no hesitation. Instead he had decided to feel guilty and let the bastard slip through his fingers. If Lindsey had already found Angel--assuming, of course, that Angel was still alive--then one of them was probably dead.
Lorne was feeling horrible about not completing his job. The only job he was given. The easiest job that any of them had been given to be frank about it.
The city of Los Angeles was a strange and alien place now. Even stranger than last year when the sun had been blotted out. Even more alien than it had seemed when he had first arrived from his home dimension.
Lorne began whistling that old song "Jeepers Creepers". The sound echoed out through the silent buildings and back to him. He was amazed that the city was so quiet. Hadn't the Apocalypse started already? Hadn't that army of demons been unleashed on them all? It must've been because he had heard the battle the night he had attempted to kill Lindsey. He had heard it a couple of times earlier in this day and the last day, too.
He had a sinking feeling that he was missing out on everything, that the Apocalypse was either already stopped, or already accomplished. He was afraid, suddenly, that he would never see another living, civilized being as long as he lived because they were all dead.
He wondered if Spike was dead or not. He wondered what exactly Spike had done. He also wondered why he was thinking about Spike. He had just been thinking about the Apocalypse and such a minute ago. Why the sudden change in direction of his train of thought?
For several minutes he attempted to get Spike out of his head. The effects of Spike's confrontation were much worse on him than the others. He just couldn't stop the continuous line of thoughts about Spike.
After those several minutes it passed and his train of thought was back to normal despite having been momentarily lost.
"Jeepers, creepers, where'd you get those peepers?" he sang silently under his breath. "Jeepers, creepers, where'd you get those eyes?"
He kept walking through the darkening day. It was around this time that Bob and Drusilla had made their first move at the city limits. It was also at this time that Oz began to change again far outside of Los Angeles. Lorne kept walking, unaware of these events, and kept whistling and, at some points, singing.
Soon the sun had fallen below the horizon and the full moon was shining brightly down on the world along with thousands, perhaps millions, perhaps billions of sparkling stars. Lorne was grateful for the full moon; there were no street lights anymore and no passing cars with their high beams glaring at the night. It was still hard to see due to the lack of great light, but it was made much easier because of the moon.
Lorne stopped at an apartment complex's stoop and sat down on it. He had been walking most of the day and needed a rest. Not to mention something to drink and something to eat.
"Should've popped 'im when you had the chance Lorney - boy," he murmured to himself. "Should've made sure he was dead. Ah… too late for that all now. Just gotta keep moving Lorne. Just gotta keep your feet going. Feets don't fail me now. Gotta find him soon."
It wasn't a very good speech, and it certainly wasn't motivating. If it weren't for the following he would've fallen asleep on that stoop and lost a good seven or eight hours.
Before he fell asleep, however, he heard a rhythmic tapping sound coming from close by. He stared out into the darkness as the sound came closer, and closer, and closer.
"Oh," Lorne whispered to himself. "No."
He knew that sound. He had heard it once shortly after his birth in his home dimension. It wasn't a common creature to stumble upon, nor was it a nonviolent one either. If you saw it your body would be torn in half and trampled before you could think to move out of the thing's view.
"No, no, no. You guys are here? No, no, no."
Lorne ran into the apartment complex and hid next to the door. He didn't make a lot of the noise in the process and, thank God for small favors, the creatures he was hiding from had very poor hearing.
The tapping sound grew quite a bit louder, and then it decreased in volume. It was leaving him alone. Luckily it hadn't seen him. Lorne let out a sigh of relief. There was another reason to find Angel. He needed to be warned about those things.
He needed to be warned about the Jarlkarlones.
Meanwhile…
Gunn was walking down the darkening street. Not too long ago he had found himself thinking of Spike for no reason at all. That had passed and he had gone back to his business.
While he was walking down said darkening street, he was rubbing his stomach slightly. The wound had been stitched up and pain killers had been administered, but it still hurt, even if only vaguely.
Initiative soldiers were bustling about. He could hear distant gun shots. The Mochlackdangodenacks had apparently not been as strong as they had all initially assumed. And the army had only possessed one dragon and one of those big things other than the Mochlackdangodenacks. A pathetic excuse for an army when you're going against a bunch of Slayers, two possible Champions, an army of soldiers trained for killing demons, probably the most powerful witch you'll ever find, and an ex - god, not to mention a street - fighter like himself. The bastards didn't know who they were up against. Gunn chuckled a bit at that. Thousands of demons and it constituted as a weak - ass army. That had to be a first.
"Uh, excuse me?" a feminine voice called from behind him. Gunn turned around quickly enough to send a fresh wave of pain over himself. He tried not to show that the pain was affecting him so.
"Yeah?" Gunn called back. He looked at the woman who had called. She was young--couldn't have been older than nineteen--and blonde. He liked her already. She was beautiful, too. Gunn flashed a less - than - charming smile that the young woman found strikingly funny. She struggled to keep her face straight.
"Hey, you wouldn't happen to know where I could find Buffy, would you?" she asked hopefully, still fighting back a threatening and impolite smile.
"Buffy?" Gunn asked. "Last time I saw her she was heading to Angel's tent over on the other side of the base. She could probably be with that old English guy with the glasses now, though."
"Giles," she informed him.
"Hmm?"
"The old English guy with the glasses' name is Giles."
"Yeah. Can you make it to his quarters? And by quarters I mean a disgusting tent full of musty, old books about demons. Not the most pleasant of places to be."
He thought his joke had cracked her up, but she was really smiling because of his smile from earlier.
"I know where Giles is," she replied. "Me and the other Slayers have only had to listen to him blabber on about the Apocalypse six times since coming here."
"You're a Slayer?" Gunn exclaimed.
"Yeah."
"Cool. What's your name?"
"Monique Ortiz. You?"
"Charles Gunn. Just call me 'Gunn', though. Were you involved with that whole the First thing last year?"
"Nah. They just found me and explained to me what I was two months ago. Staking vampires and battling demons isn't the best way to keep a healthy social life."
"I figured."
"It can be hell keeping it a secret. Especially when you need to go away for God knows how long to Los Angeles for seemingly no reason at all. This Apocalypse sucks."
"Huh."
" 'Huh' what?"
"You don't seem scared."
"Scared of what?"
"The end of the world."
"That? No. I've read up on all of the other apocalypses in the last decade or so. Seems that they've all been stopped with few casualties. So, I figure, why should this one be any different?"
The two of them were now walking back into the depths of the base side - by - side.
"Good point. But I'd still be scared if I were you."
"Why?"
"Because it's an apocalypse that hasn't disappeared into the forgotten past. It might not be avoided."
Monique looked up at Gunn, then back to where she was walking. "Didn't think about it that way. I don't think it's best to think about things like that."
The tents were more crowded together now in the street and the sidewalks, exposed by the battery - operated street lights lining the street. Giles's tent was two blocks away.
"Probably right about that Monique. And I don't want to cause you a lot of worry. Sorry about that."
"No, it's okay. I don't mind a bit of worrying. I don't worry about things I can't control."
"An admiral characteristic. I couldn't stop worrying the first time I stumbled over my first apocalypse."
He didn't want to tell her that this was the fabled THE Apocalypse, not AN Apocalypse. That would dampen her spirits more than likely. It had his for a few hours.
"If I die, I die. Didn't have a lot to live for anyway. My death wouldn't be a great loss."
"I thought you were Slayer."
"Yeah."
"Then what are you talking about not being a great loss? All Slayers are worth a hell of a lot to the good in the world."
"Nice little theory you've got there. One flaw, though. Potential Slayers and Slayers alike were dropping like flies last year. The world hasn't gotten much worse since. It's gotten better, actually. Until now that is."
Gunn opened his mouth to say something more, but Buffy showed up at that moment.
"Hey Gunn. Hey Monique. What's your report?"
"Team A went over areas 1 - A, 1 -B, and 1 - C. They found a group of the demons in 1 - A and exterminated them. Team B went over areas 2 - A, 2 - B, and 2 - C. None were found. Team C and Team D have not reported back. Team E lost half of its soldiers in area 5 - D, where an exceptionally large group was located. No Slayer casualties were suffered."
"That's good to know," Buffy replied. "What about Teams F through Z?"
"Joanna and Naomi report for them."
"Oh. Right."
Gunn, feeling uncomfortable standing there and doing nothing, went off on a stroll around the base.
Meanwhile…
The moon was out now. It was full. Oz stared at it as he shrieked in pain as his body contorted and morphed into its Lycanthrope form. He begged it to stop. He wanted control again. He wanted his hard - earned control back.
He heard the truck screech to a stop and heard as the driver hurried out of the seat.
Toby was carrying his tranquilizer rifle and was running around to the back of the truck when suddenly the Lycanthrope leapt out at him.
"Shit!" he shouted as he was hurled to the ground. The weight of the werewolf was lifted off of him and he heard the Lycanthrope charging away. Toby got to his feet and saw the werewolf was at least a hundred yards away now, dirt and grass being pulled up by its claws as it charged across the flat terrain. The highway they had been driving down was barren, so it was just him and this Oz.
Toby aimed his rifle at the Lycanthrope. He tracked its progress with his scope. He pulled the trigger and the tranquilizer dart shot out of the rifle's muzzle with great speed. Less than a second later it was injecting its drugs into Oz's body.
Oz came to a stop first not because of the drugs, but because he suddenly thought of a blonde vampire that his werewolf mind was not familiar with. Then he fell to the ground and sent up a cloud of dust.
A minute or so later Toby reached him and stood over him with his rifle slung over his shoulder. "You son of a bitch," he muttered. He was thoroughly dreading the experience of dragging Oz back to the truck, but the sooner it was done the better.
"You could just pick 'im up like before," a cockeye accented voice said from behind Toby. Toby turned around slowly, believing he knew who it was.
"Hello, dick."
"Isn't that just typical of you? Use my name to your advantage to insult me." Richard then chuckled. He looked like Spike now, not that Toby knew that. "It's a bit obvious, though. But, I must state, once again, that you… are not my friend."
Suddenly the vision of Spike put a tooth pick in its mouth and started chewing on it loudly. "Are you a Stephen King reader?"
"No," Toby replied simply, and a little impatiently.
"Then you wouldn't understand this reference to ol' Beaver from "Dreamcatcher" whood ya?"
"Are you gonna help me with this werewolf here or not?"
"Guess you wouldn't. Anywho, he'll be light to you now. You might want to hurry. Some stuff has already started up without ya."
Toby picked up the werewolf, once again baffled at how the huge thing could weigh so little, and then took one step forward before stopping. Richard's jaw was hanging open and the tooth pick had dropped out. Richard was staring behind Toby.
Toby turned around slowly and when he saw what Richard saw his face drained of all color.
The light wasn't good enough for him to see anything but the shape of the monster that was standing not too far away, but the shape was enough. It had dozens of tentacles whipping the air around its twelve foot body. It had three heads like the Cerberus from Greek mythology. Four muscular arms spread out from the center of its body and each had five joints instead of one like a human arms. Each of the arms was tipped with a three - clawed, large hand that looked very prepared to slash him into four pieces with one swipe. No, not prepared; they looked just itching to do so. And then the legs. The six legs that were all extending from its bottom. In the middle of the six legs was a tail that had a large club at the end of its twenty - foot stretch.
Toby knew what it was, but he didn't want to admit it. He didn't want to admit that he was staring at a Jarlkarlone.
He spun around back to Richard, his legs feeling like they would give out beneath him at any moment. Richard looked at him.
"RUN!" he hollered, and Toby did so, werewolf in arms.
It seemed to take a million years for him to reach his truck when it was really only a half minute. He tossed Oz into the back of the truck and scrambled into the driver's seat. He could feel the ground shaking as the Jarlkarlone advanced on them. He struggled to turn his keys and the engine sputtered to life.
Toby slammed down on the gas pedal while throwing a glance out the window at the Jarlkarlone. Excuse me, now it was Jarlkarlones. Three or four had joined the first… and they were all barreling at his truck bellowing war cries at the air. Their feet made terrible tapping sounds that were less than unbearable.
Toby had a fleeting image of the Jarlklarlone wearing tap - dancing shoes and dancing on a stage that nearly made him smile.
Then his truck was speeding down the empty highway away from the growing number of pursuing Jarlkarlones. Thirty - five was the final number of them that eventually joined the following group… and three - hundred and sixty - two was the number of those that didn't.
By the time morning came rolling around there were a hundred more on Earth.
Meanwhile… again…
Connor hit the brakes and his car came to a screeching halt. His headlights shone upon a burly man wearing a leather jacket, blue jeans, and a white tee - shirt beneath the jacket. His head was bald like a cue - ball, he had beard stubble, and his mustache was a goatee.
The man was standing in the middle of the road with blood spattered all over the left side of his face. His eyes were glazed over a little and he looked like a zombie. Connor rolled down his window and leaned out with a concerned--but not frightened; he had dealt with a lot of things that were worse than this--look on his face.
"Sir?" he called out.
"What?" the man replied.
"Do you need help?"
"Does who need what now?"
"Sir?"
"What's a Bejorknal?" the man asked, sounding quite curious. Connor then realized that this man must be in shock… or something along those lines anyway.
Connor opened his car door and stepped out into the bitterly cold night air. He cautiously approached the man. "What's your name?"
"I like cookies with asteroids."
"Well, I like cookies with asteroids, why don't you get into the back of my car and tell me what happ--"
Connor stopped abruptly. There was someone behind him. Actually, there were two people behind him. He could sense them. Some of his supernatural abilities had come back to him with along with his memories.
"THE MAN'S A GENIOUS WITH SPRINKLES AND NUTS!" the man with the goatee and dazed look in his eyes shrieked and then ran off into the night like some sort of superhero… but a superhero that ran like a woman with arthritis.
Connor spun around and found himself looking at two forms. One was a beautiful woman who looked like her mind was in a different place, and he could tell that one was a vampire. The other was a tall man wearing patched up clothes that looked like they included bits and pieces of clothing from every time period of human civilization. He wasn't quite sure what this one was. The man seemed more human than the woman, but he also seemed like a demon.
"It's Darla's son!" the vampire exclaimed, not seeming very interested. "He's got his mother's eyes… but his father's hair. That's bad. I detest that vampire's hair."
"Hello Connor," the man said simply. "I'm Bob. This is Drusilla. She's your sister seeing as how your father sired her. Say 'hello brother, dear' Dru."
"Hello brother, dear."
Connor, being completely and utterly confused and not quite certain if he was hallucinating or not, raised his hand in greeting slowly.
"It seems your brother here was heading back into Los Angeles to help Angel out with his apocalypse. Can that be allowed?"
"No…"
"Then it's settled. Connor. Come with us and we'll let you live for a bit."
Connor immediately took a defensive position. "I'm not coming with you."
"You probably don't know if I'm human or demon, do you? To be frank with you, I'm a human and not a demon. I may have a little demon in me, which has allowed me to endure living a good two million years, but I'm human. If I were a normal human you could take me, but I have that little extra bit of demon in me that makes it quite the opposite. See, I can take you now. If you do refuse to come with me and your sister, I'll snap your neck like a twig."
"Why do you want to take me alive?"
"Mostly to enrage your father. I heard he sacrificed his entire relationship with you so that you could have a good life. Did you ever wonder if he actually did that to get you the hell out of his life? Just a suggestion Connor."
Bob then climbed in behind the wheel of Connor's car and Drusilla got into the driver's side. Connor, now moving not of his own free will, walked over to the back door and climbed in. Bob looked back at him and smiled. "Good boy."
Then Connor's seat belt floated over his body and trapped him in the seat. Then the back doors both locked simultaneously. Connor didn't have a button to push in order to accomplish that.
Bob had many great abilities. He could move things and he could control people for a certain amount of time. He could even alter matter if he set his mind to it. He could make the ground turn to a liquid substance if he wanted to.
The car's wheels began spinning as Bob stepped on the gas pedal. Then they moved faster when he made a connection with them in his mind.
The car sped into Los Angeles. Connor was now in the hands of the enemy.
()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()
Hey, MorbidMan here. Hope you enjoyed this one. It took me two days to write. I don't have much to put down here other than to thank my reviewers (in particular Violet SS and Imzadi, along with Tariq and DZ Dillinger, sorry to angelcordy fan, but I won't include dead characters in this story). That's a so long until next chapter. Thank you London (don't ask)! Good night!
"Heh, heh. Check it out Butthead. This chick has three boobs!" - Beavis "Beavis and Butthead"