The Defense
By The Shadower
Disclaimer: If I owned it, those idiots would never have cancelled it.
Dedicated to Gemini-Moon1, a truly awesome AF writer, who inspired me to start writing again.
Archiving: Let me know where, I'd be honored.
Feedback: Yes, please. I thrive off it, and if I get enough chapter one may be appearing tomorrow.
AN: I'm not sure this is my best work, so don't judge the whole story based on this. The next chapter will probably be better.
This is set years after Not Fade Away, how many I'm too lazy to figure out. The world has changed. The AI gang aren't all the same people they were before. And Wesley only SEEMED to die and actually recovered upon being given medical care.
Prologue
2008
There was a shape in the lightning, a form in the mist. The woman ran through the pounding rain, her hair flying across her face and settling there, growing matted with the water.
But the woman did not seem to notice the rain, it didn't matter to her. There were far, far worse things than rain.
And some of them were chasing her tonight.
She ran down an alley, her feet falling with a scattered, terrified rhythm against the concrete. She gasped for breath, filled only with the urge to RUN the urge to escape.
Without warning a shape flew into view at the end of the alley. She could see that it was a man, clad in the blue uniform that belonged to Los Angeles self-proclaimed finest.
Or at least it had once.
The man said nothing, but flung his hands out before him, clutching something in them. The woman saw that it was a gun.
He was about to tell her to freeze, about to arrest her.
And so the girl flung herself into him, disarming the gun quickly. The cop's face contorted with fury and something else. Disgust. His lips synched and formed a single word.
"Freak."
He would have gone on, but the woman rammed her fist into his throat. When it came out, it was hot and sticky and wet with his blood.
Because she was a monster too, in her own way. She hadn't wanted to be, she'd never wanted to be, but she was anyway.
She ran out into the storm, almost sobbing at what had become of her, of those she loved, and of the world.
The phone rang, jangling on its hook.
It was, at the very least, an unusual occurrence.
The dark man reached for it quickly, before the sound it made could carry to the street outside. He lifted the receiver to his ear. He said nothing. He made no sound whatsoever, not even breathing. He had no need to breathe.
The voice was slow to come over the other end of the line, almost hesitant, as if the speaker was unsure that he truly wished to speak.
"Hello, Angel."
The voice was soft, cultured, and tinged with a British accent. It continued
"No, don't say anything, I shouldn't be speaking to you anyway. I shouldn't know this contact number. If you say anything, then I am obligated by law to place you under arrest.
I'll make this brief. Faith has been located and is currently resisting arrest on the east sector. I thought you should know."
A voice came from the background.
(detective Wyndam-Pryce!)
"One moment!"
The voice spoke into the phone again.
"I can't guarantee it won't be me trying to take her. Just save her, Angel."
The last was a whisper.
(click)
Angel reached for his coat, not looking at the phone, from which he had heard his best friend's voice for the first time in years.
By The Shadower
Disclaimer: If I owned it, those idiots would never have cancelled it.
Dedicated to Gemini-Moon1, a truly awesome AF writer, who inspired me to start writing again.
Archiving: Let me know where, I'd be honored.
Feedback: Yes, please. I thrive off it, and if I get enough chapter one may be appearing tomorrow.
AN: I'm not sure this is my best work, so don't judge the whole story based on this. The next chapter will probably be better.
This is set years after Not Fade Away, how many I'm too lazy to figure out. The world has changed. The AI gang aren't all the same people they were before. And Wesley only SEEMED to die and actually recovered upon being given medical care.
Prologue
2008
There was a shape in the lightning, a form in the mist. The woman ran through the pounding rain, her hair flying across her face and settling there, growing matted with the water.
But the woman did not seem to notice the rain, it didn't matter to her. There were far, far worse things than rain.
And some of them were chasing her tonight.
She ran down an alley, her feet falling with a scattered, terrified rhythm against the concrete. She gasped for breath, filled only with the urge to RUN the urge to escape.
Without warning a shape flew into view at the end of the alley. She could see that it was a man, clad in the blue uniform that belonged to Los Angeles self-proclaimed finest.
Or at least it had once.
The man said nothing, but flung his hands out before him, clutching something in them. The woman saw that it was a gun.
He was about to tell her to freeze, about to arrest her.
And so the girl flung herself into him, disarming the gun quickly. The cop's face contorted with fury and something else. Disgust. His lips synched and formed a single word.
"Freak."
He would have gone on, but the woman rammed her fist into his throat. When it came out, it was hot and sticky and wet with his blood.
Because she was a monster too, in her own way. She hadn't wanted to be, she'd never wanted to be, but she was anyway.
She ran out into the storm, almost sobbing at what had become of her, of those she loved, and of the world.
The phone rang, jangling on its hook.
It was, at the very least, an unusual occurrence.
The dark man reached for it quickly, before the sound it made could carry to the street outside. He lifted the receiver to his ear. He said nothing. He made no sound whatsoever, not even breathing. He had no need to breathe.
The voice was slow to come over the other end of the line, almost hesitant, as if the speaker was unsure that he truly wished to speak.
"Hello, Angel."
The voice was soft, cultured, and tinged with a British accent. It continued
"No, don't say anything, I shouldn't be speaking to you anyway. I shouldn't know this contact number. If you say anything, then I am obligated by law to place you under arrest.
I'll make this brief. Faith has been located and is currently resisting arrest on the east sector. I thought you should know."
A voice came from the background.
(detective Wyndam-Pryce!)
"One moment!"
The voice spoke into the phone again.
"I can't guarantee it won't be me trying to take her. Just save her, Angel."
The last was a whisper.
(click)
Angel reached for his coat, not looking at the phone, from which he had heard his best friend's voice for the first time in years.