DISCLAIMER: All "Shaun of the Dead" characters belong to Edgar Wright and Simon Pegg (who is quite simply the sweetest and coolest guy EVER). He just might have moved higher on my list than Ioan Gruffudd, and that is a big achievement. If you knew the depths of my devotion to Ioan Gruffudd, you would understand. I mean, Simon has given me "virtual" kisses on the Shaun Squad message board. Mr. Gruffudd, what are you going to do to get back to the top of my list? Flowers, chocolate, a cameo as your mistress in the next "Horatio Hornblower" movie?
Why, yes, I do prefer the warmth of delusions to cold, hard reality. Is that so wrong? Oh, and all "Star Wars" characters belong to George Lucas, as if you didn't already know that. Please don't sue me, Mr. Lucas. Big thanks to the PeggLeggs for making cameo appearances in this story. You all remembered to sign that pesky legal waiver, right?
In an ornately furnished flat on the south side of the Thames, a dark figure stood at the window and looked out at the river. He loved watching the way the moonlight shimmered and danced on the black waves. It reminded him of war, the swing of swords glinting in the heat of battle, the glow of arrows as they gracefully arced through the still night air. But then, everything reminded him of war in some way. It was all he'd ever known. War, and the immense wealth and power that it brought.
The world he now found himself in was weak, mired in murky alliances and crippling doubt, afraid to take the necessary actions to effect change. But he would soon make life much simpler for these conflicted mortals. The world would be black and white: you were with him, or you were dead.
Lost in thought, he barely noticed the sound of a lock turning and the front door opening. The human, the weasel-like professor who had revived him, had returned home. No need to bother acknowledging this parasite. He continued to look out at the water.
The professor huffed in indignation as he entered the hallway, having to step over the body of a courier left drained of blood on the floor. "I trust you enjoyed the take-away."
"He was too salty," the figure in the window answered.
"Well, I'm sorry to hear that. But in future, could you stop leaving your leftovers on my Persian rug?" Professor Malcolm Ryland tossed his keys onto a side table and placed his briefcase by the door. He removed the glasses from his blue eyes and exhaustedly rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Really, Davrok, I did awaken you from several centuries of tortured slumber. I don't think a little common courtesy is too much to ask."
The figure turned from the window with a low growl. "I grow tired of waiting. My force is strong enough to take this city. I have more important concerns than courtesy."
"As I've told you before, you must wait. Prophecies can be tricky things, but this one clearly states that nothing can happen until the lunar eclipse. In the meantime, you must continue to add to your legion of undead foot soldiers."
"My children continue to multiply by the hour. Like lambs to the slaughter, these foolish mortals."
"Well, I'm afraid you've a few less children now. There was an attack on a vamp nest, five gone in quick order. The number of casualties on our side continues to grow at an alarming rate."
"How is this possible?"
"I have reason to believe that there's a slayer in town. Maybe more than one."
"Slayer? I've never heard of such a thing."
"Well, they have this pesky way of being convert and secretive. It could be one person, it could be an army brigade. Whatever they are, they know our weaknesses. And once they find out about you, they will come after you with guns blazing."
"Let them come," he laughed sinisterly. "Whoever these slayers are, they will live to regret they ever heard the name Davrok."
Meanwhile, across the river, Will, Sara and Shaun assembled in Michael's office as he began to explain about the enemy they had now identified.
"Davrok was a particularly ruthless Ottoman prince who led one of the Turkish ruler's cavalries during the Crusades. When it began to look like Richard's armies were winning, he turned traitor and joined up with the Westerners in present-day Serbia. He led many successful and bloody campaigns against his former countrymen. Some attributed his success to a deal with the devil, a mystical pact with the Eastern European gypsies, or perhaps just forward-thinking military strategy. At any rate, his lust for blood was insatiable.
"He was finally captured by the Ottomans. But no amount of torture would break him. So the story is that they 'converted' him, into what we could call a vampire, and sent him back to the Western armies with the Turkish shah's regards. The now-vampiric Davrok decimated whole units of King Richard's armies. He was finally stopped by a Gypsy curse and entombed in a casket of their making, sealed with a binding spell to keep him locked up for eternity.
"That casket arrived in this country a few weeks ago, part of a shipment of Serbian artifacts delivered to the British Museum. Someone opened it, and now Davrok is starting to rebuild his army."
"Was it opened by accident?" Sara asked.
"No, we're fairly certain that it was intentional," Michael replied. "A security guard was reported missing at the British Museum on the night we think Davrok was awakened. Security footage shows a Mr. Paul Watts signing in for work that morning, but never signing out. And the last person to leave the museum that night was a Professor Malcolm Ryland."
"Ryland is an expert on Yugoslavia and its former republics," Will added. "He would likely be able to translate the markings on the casket."
"Why would he do that? Why would he free some tyrannical Turkish twat?" Shaun inquired.
"Money, power, immortality, a BMW convertible," Will conjectured. "Ryland probably figures if he helps ol' Davrok unleash Armageddon, he'll get something valuable out of it."
"We find Ryland, we find Davrok," Sara suggested.
"Exactly." Michael handed files to Will and Sara. "Will, I want you to check Ryland's flat in Southwark. Sara, you and Shaun check in on the professor at work. University of London."
Shaun followed Sara through the labyrinthine building to the underground parking garage where Sara picked out her dark green Mini Cooper. She then drove the car out of the garage and headed east until she made a stop outside a building in Whitechapel.
Shaun knew this wasn't the university. "Why are we here?" he asked.
"I need some supplies from my flat," she answered, exiting the car. "If this guy's so keen on starting up a vampire army, I don't want to get ambushed again."
"Good point." Shaun followed her up the steps to her flat on the second floor.
She unlocked the door and dramatically waved him in. "Home sweet home."
"It's...nice," he commented, entering the bare one-bedroom with a tiny kitchen and poor excuse for a living room.
"Well, it's a place to sleep," she sighed, crossing to a large wooden chest in her bedroom and pulling out wooden stakes, bottles of holy water, crossbows, large axes, small axes, a spiked mace.
"You must be loads of fun on a date," Shaun observed of the weapons cache, then continued to scan the room. The decorating was very minimalist. He supposed she hadn't been in the country long enough to accumulate many possessions. He did notice several movie posters in addition to a TV and couch. No chick lit books, no aromatherapy candles, no family photos, no photos of her smiling on a beach with some tan git. That was promising.
And on the shelf of a bookcase, shining out like a beacon, a collection of action figures. Not just any action figures, mind you. The original Star Wars action figures. Han, Leia, Darth Vader in his original vinyl cape, a speeder bike with a Storm Trooper at the controls, even an X-wing fighter with Luke in the cockpit.
"Nice, aren't they?" she said proudly, over his shoulder. Shaun was quite speechless. "I foolishly took them out of the packaging and played with them when I was a kid, so they don't have a tenth of the value they could. But I still like having them."
"Absolutely," he confirmed. "Remind me to break in while you're out and steal them."
"Yeah, and remind me to put you back in a coma," she countered with a smile. "I dunno, they're sort of my security blanket. Maybe someday I'll have a cool niece to pass them on to."
"You don't plan to have kids?"
"I can barely make it through a blind date without being paged to deal with an apocalyptic emergency," she quipped, with restrained annoyance. "Besides, a slayer's way of life is not terribly conducive to marriage and family. There's the unpredictable work hours, the dangerous weapons lying about, and the whole shortened life expectancy. Plus the only guys I meet lately wouldn't be able to walk on a beach with me in the daylight."
"Granted, that is true. But not all men are averse to sunlight. I mean, I'm sure there's a guy out there somewhere that could handle it."
"You think?"
"Yeah, like he'd make sure you never ran out of holy water. And he'd have dinner waiting when you came home after a long night of demon-fighting."
"And he'd be good at getting blood stains out of my clothes."
"Exactly."
"Well, if you ever meet such a guy, give him my number. In the meantime, we gotta' go look for some bad guys." She slung the fully-loaded backpack over her shoulder. To Shaun's dismay, she didn't let him have any of the toys from the trunk. "Oh, one more thing." She ran into the bathroom and returned with a can of hairspray.
"What's that for? Are vamps afraid of aerosol now?" he scoffed.
"No, no, no. What did we learn from 'Buffy the Vampire Slayer'?" she asked.
"That Willow Rosenberg could conceivably be hotter than Dana Scully," Shaun asserted.
"No. Well, apart from that. You got a lighter?"
"Uh, yeah." He foraged through his pockets and tossed it to her.
She demonstrated how the hairspray can became a mini-blowtorch with help from the lighter. "The slayer shall be known by her keen fashion sense," she quoted. "Now let's go."
Shaun followed her down the stairs. But she abruptly paused on the steps as a door on the first floor opened, and Shaun almost ran into her.
"Sara!" cried the redhead from the open door. "I'm so glad I caught you."
"Jessica!" Sara greeted. "How are you?"
"Peachy," she smiled. "I'm supposed to give you a message from Marcia. She wants to make sure you're not late on the rent again."
"I won't be."
"We hardly ever see you anymore. Has your new friend been keeping you out at all hours of the night?" Jessica asked, looking at Shaun with inviting blue eyes.
"This guy? No, this is Shaun. Shaun, Jessica. Jessica, Shaun."
"Hi," he said eloquently.
"Hello, Shaun. Haven't seen you around before. How do you know Sara?"
"Well, we sort of...um..." he stammered, looking to Sara for assistance.
"We met in the pub," she said quickly. "Shaun almost hit me in the head with a cue ball."
"That's nice and subtle," Jessica remarked. "Slick, did you hear that?" she called to someone inside the flat. "Sara's met someone. I always told you she just needed a good smack upside the head."
"Sara's got a boyfriend!" another female voice cried.
"Oh, God," Sara moaned under her breath in despair and turned away. The front door was so close. She could make a run for it right now. Frankly, she doubted if Shaun would follow. It wouldn't be the first time an unsuspecting man had been lured behind the door of 3A.
A tall blonde appeared in the doorway next to Jessica. "Is this your new boyfriend, Sara?" Slick inquired. "He's so cute, in a slacker kind of way. Where did you find him?"
"We met in the pub," Shaun replied, with a smile to Sara. "Sara was knocked out by my skills with a pool cue."
The two women laughed flirtatiously. "You're so funny, Shaun," Jessica enthused. "Not like those losers Sara's usually with. All dark suits and dreary looks."
"We were beginning to think she was an escort for undertakers," Slick said, and the two women erupted in laughter again. Shaun started to laugh but abruptly stopped when he saw the look on Sara's face and remembered just how much weaponry she was carrying.
"Y'know, we're having some friends over later for drinks. You should join us," Jessica offered.
"Come on, it'll be a laugh," Slick pleaded.
"Shaun and I already have plans for tonight," Sara said decisively.
"But maybe if we get back early, we could stop by," Shaun said.
"We'll hold you to that," Jessica purred. "I mean, you're already dressed for the occasion. But Sara, you might want to change into something that didn't come out of a Land's End catalog."
"Thanks for the fashion tip, Jess, but we should really be going." Sara grabbed Shaun's arm and pulled him toward the door.
Slick added, "Stop by anytime! You guys have fun tonight!"
"Bye, Sara! See you later, Shaun!" Jessica called.
Sara practically pushed Shaun out the door and down the steps.
"What?! What did I do?" he protested. "I was trying to be nice to your neighbors."
"Could you wipe off your chin before you get in my car? I don't want drool on my upholstery."
"I was not drooling."
"Yes, you were. Like all men do over the women of 3A. Just because they're tall redhead and blond bombshells with hourglass figures and a penchant for guys with goatees."
"Really?"
"Just get in the car, Shaun."
He complied, correctly assuming that it was best not to argue with her.