From : Chihuahua
Date : 8th June 2003
Disclaimer : I don't own any of the TRA:JQ characters and neither do I own any of the characters from Buffy the Vampire Slayer. No money is made out of this fic. Don't sue me as I'm not sure I can afford Ally McBeal.
Category : A, JJ-HR, DBN-HR, F, E, JQ/Buffy Crossover
Rating : Parental guidance is advised.
Author's note : This takes place after Season 2 of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. This is my account on what happens and is based fully on my own creativity.
Archiver's Permission: Granted to those who want it. Just inform me on where it can be found.
CHAPTER 9: GET IT DONE… DO IT RIGHT
ASHQELON, A.D. 455
"Are you sure it's here?" Prumiva glanced about the richly decorated chamber. Antius certainly had put his money to good use. She ran a talon down a rich Moroccan tapestry, feeling the delicate silks that frayed under her touch.
Daerian grunted in response. "I know I've seen it here before… somewhere." He continued to rifle through Antius's neatly kept prized scriptures.
"The Codex Aeternus Nox Noctis, in the hands of a Watcher!" she exclaimed. "Such an irony."
"The Book of Eternal Darkness," Daerian echoed, his eyes searching for the desired volume.
"Why would a Watcher be appointed such a powerful text, I have no idea…"
Daerian stopped his search. "It isn't here, not anymore."
Prumiva glowered at him. "What do you mean, it's gone? You said it was here…"
"Exactly, it was. And this will show us where it is now!" Daerian grinned, handing her a small parchment he had retrieved from a pile of journals."
Prumiva unfolded the parchment and her hideous grin flashed in the dim light. "A map. I must say that your Watcher was very kind."
"You know where it is?"
"From this map, yes. He was a very good mapmaker." She tossed her raven ringlets and motioned for Daerian to follow her. As they made it out of the exit, the rest of Prumiva's unholy brethren joined them from the various chambers of the Watcher's vast compound. They wiped their bloody lips, licking at their fingers to savour every last drop of blood. The household had been purged of all life; every single last living person had been drained. The servants lay about in a disorderly manner, strewn about on the stone floors like carcasses on a Saharan landscape.
Prumiva held a torch high, careful to keep it away from herself as she swept through the catacombs below the city. Daerian marched at her side, her only company down here in the dank darkness. The flame of the torch danced in the darkness, the faint undercurrent toying with it. Its light seemed to be swallowed by the impermeable gloom. The ground was hard, dry. Water had not touched it for a long time, if not forever. There was no life, but the taste of death was thick, balmy and musky. He smelt death, tasted it, felt it and couldn't tell neither taste nor feel from the other. It was all the same, bleak.
He followed the faint orb of light as Prumiva walked confidently down the ancient tunnels. The city of Ashqelon had been destroyed and rebuilt many times over the centuries. Before the Romans, there had been Alexander the Great, the father of Hellenistic culture. And before that, the Phoenicians, his ancestors, had raised the city of Ashqelon from the ashes after its destruction by the Babylonians. Before the destruction, the Philistines had prospered after taking the city away from the Canaanites, the nomadic founders. All this was told through stories, passed down solely by word of mouth. Walking down these tunnels, he now knew that at least some of what he had been told during his life was true. The walls that held the ceiling up were ages old, the carvings and architecture unrecognizable today.
Prumiva saw his awe and recognized it as an expression of deference. "These corridors you walk through now were constructed when the nomads planted their roots here. The Canaanites, like all great conquerors had one fear, captivity. They built these catacombs that would enable more of their officials to escape should a sudden siege come upon them." She snickered. "Cowards, and yet they were wise."
"How did you know about this place?" His voice still carried the tone of wonderment.
"I was their queen." She continued her lead. Her luxurious hair spilled down her back like black water cascading down a fall. "Your Watcher's map simply refreshed my memory on where the entrances were. Nosey man, wasn't he?"
Daerian stayed silent. He saw that she had stopped and he halted by her side. They had come to the end of a tunnel and a gaping darkness yawned at them. The torch seemed like only a pinprick of light here.
"I was also a sorceress," she said, stepping into the darkness. "Iluminar!" she commanded, and they were engulfed by a flash of blinding light. The hollow whump! of torches being lit simultaneously filled the space as torches everywhere came to life, lighting the chamber.
Daerian stared this time. The corridors and halls he had walked through were nothing compared to what he witnessed now. The walls stretched upwards in vast expenses, and the chamber was immense. Each wall was illuminated by several hundred torches, each one casting its dancing light to fight the shadow.
"How deep are we?" he asked, stepping around a sculpture of a hideously deformed being.
"A hundred feet below the settlements of the Canaanite kingdom." Her answer was short as she marched to the center of the large space.
"What is this place?" Daerian was fixated upon a large mural that seemed to stretch on forever from where he stood to the unseen heights above.
"The beginning. This is where it all began. Good and evil. Evil and good. We could sit around for centuries debating which came first, but the truth is, they're both one and the same. Good cannot exist without evil, and evil is non-existent without good. Everything is balanced." She motioned with her hand, pointing all around. "This space has existed since the dawn of life."
"How did…?"
"The Canaanites dug their tunnels, and they found this place by accident. The tunnel to this place was sealed and the place deemed cursed."
"But the tunnel wasn't blocked on the way here," Daerian pointed out, still avidly studying the carvings and drawings.
Prumiva smiled. "I rerouted it, blocked the other tunnel instead. I tried to harness the powers of immortality, but to no avail. Until…" Her face morphed into its feral form. "The object of my search had disappeared though, so I had been searching for it all this while."
"The Book of Eternal Darkness…"
"That's correct. All that was left was the Blade of Aefriol."
"What?"
Prumiva pointed at a beautiful katana that hung suspended in the chamber. The intricate sword hovered three feet off the ground, caught in a ray of pure white light. "The Blade of Aefriol," she intoned. "Kept here by magic. Only the Destined One may wield and harness its powers."
Daerian grinned happily. He reached out and grabbed the hilt… and was thrown across the chamber, slamming heavily against a section of a wall. He got up, sizzling and smoking all over.
"You forget, impetuous one, that you're no longer the Destined." Prumiva's tone was mocking, her heavily kohl-lined eyes taunting him. "Even if you were, I do not assume that you would be able to wield it."
Daerian brushed himself off and glared at her. "A warning would have been welcome," he snapped. "And what do you mean I wouldn't have been able to use it. I was the Destined!"
Prumiva nodded condescendingly. "Of course you were. But you were not a part of the prophecy."
"What prophecy? What stupid prophecy?" Daerian demanded.
"That only the mirror of Aefriol could wield it. The mirror image. To quote: It is meant for only he who is the Destined mirror of Aefriol."
"Who is this Aefriol anyway?" He was frustrated. He sensed the power of the graceful blade that lay within grasp but would never be his.
Prumiva laughed, her laughter echoing eerily in the vaulting halls. "A Destined who has never heard of Aefriol!" she exclaimed. "My dear foolish boy, how could you've ever been the Destined One? There is so much you do not know. What did your Watcher ever teach you?"
Apparently nothing." Daerian felt hurt. The injustice of his existence had spread to after his death. "I was never told anything more than I had to fight to keep the world safe and that my son would continue my line after my death."
"According to legend, the first Destined was given his powers by Aefriol. Aefriol was one of the four Warriors of Light. There was a great battle, and all four fell, but before his demise, Aefriol passed his essence on to a young man, charging him with protecting the world and for his lineage to continue doing so." She paused. Daerian had drifted back to a mural and was studying it intently. "That is the depiction of the great battle that took place all those lifetimes ago."
The mural stretched across the wall, each detail intricately chiseled and stained with hints of color. Amidst the chaos, four beings stood out, each one pure and beautiful. The mural wasn't just that, Daerian could feel their energy radiating from it. One seemed to stand out among the rest. A tan youth with flowing hair the color of the lightest sun. In his hands, the wondrous sword flashed as he raised it above his head. Even in the mural, Daerian could see the intricate carvings that decorated the blade from hilt to tip, the jeweled scabbard.
"Aefriol…" he whispered, gazing at the being of light.
"Handsome devil, wasn't he?" Prumiva interrupted his reverie.
Daerian simply nodded. "What about the rest? Surely their weapons must have survived the fight…"
Prumiva shook her head. "All gone with them. The Blade of Aefriol remains only because it was passed on to the Destined, and it was lost in the course of history for several centuries. Until it was discovered to have been placed in here, in this shrine."
"Where is the book anyway?" He turned away from the mural for a second. The depiction seemed to come alive as the flames from the multitude of torches cast shadows in the grooves, the flickering light bringing the illusion of movement.
"Over here." She stood by a podium set opposite the hovering sword. On it lay a beautiful leather-bound book covered with gilt scrip on its cover. The script was old, and it curved like ivy, tails and loops everywhere. The script was ambiguous, constantly changing its color in the light, going from pure gold to deepest night. Power, mystic energy emanated from it, so charged that even he felt afraid of the secrets it held. "After all these centuries, your Watcher was the one who returned it to its rightful place. The map was probably meant for the Council."
"What's the significance of this book? What can we do with it?"
"This holds the key to the past, present and…"
"… future," he finished. "You're going to use the magic within to destroy the world?"
"Close enough, but very narrow-minded. This…" she raised the book off the podium, "…is the key to shaping our future."
"What is your plan, Mistress?" Daerian fingered the spine of the book. He felt the rough texture of cracked leather, and was surprised as the book looked to be in pristine condition.
"We will thrive in the darkness. Humanity and its light-lovers will be obliterated, turned to our purposes."
"When?" Daerian questioned, his eyes drawn back to the mural. He was kept in awe by the sheer power that the mural possessed.
"When the new Mouth of Hell emerges… It'll be a long wait."
"What about him?"
"Him?" She frowned.
"The next Destined. What about him?"
"He will die! And so will the next, and the one after him. We will destroy them all, one at a time, as each is called to power!"
"We're talking about the destruction of my descendants?" he asked, scowling. Then he smiled. "That's simply brilliant! When can we start?"
"How many women did you ever sleep with anyway?" Prumiva demanded, her blood-streaked face revealing her pleasure as she snapped the neck of yet another woman. Her handsome partner grinned as he kicked the head of the man of the house across the room, reveling in the carnage.
"Nearly the whole damn street I think…" he said thoughtfully. He smiled. "I was a gigolo, I bedded them for money. Gave them satisfaction they craved from their unworthy husbands. Husbands like… him," he said as he nudged the decapitated corpse.
"How many children did you sire?" she asked, her bloody lips curling in a conspiring smile. "A lot of the women were happy to see you… emphasis on 'were'. Their poor husbands were no match for you, you stallion!"
Daerian made a mock effort to count them with his fingers before saying, "Does it really matter? We'll kill the lot… not take any chances."
"Point taken," she mumbled, her fangs buried in her victim's neck, a three year old boy who still struggled. She pulled back and cooed happily. "Such strength and vigor! He takes after his father." Then she dashed the child's head on the wall and left the crumpled body on the floor.
"What do we do with the bodies? Leave them here?"
"Do whatever you want."
"What about the infants?" he asked, pointing at the cartful of sleeping babies.
"Abandon them someplace… they're helpless anyway! How can they survive without their mothers?"
"I know just the place." His feral expression was horrible as he left the house in the bloody mess he had helped create. Just like all the others they had visited. No one had dared to stop them, the entire brethren of vampires slaking their thirst on the blood of the families they killed.
"Where would that be?"
"The sewers. Beneath the bathhouse."
"Dark, damp, festering with disease and rats… I like it. We'll dump the whole load there, alive of course. And then… no more Destined. No more worries."
LONDON, 1990
"This is the Destined One?" Daerian bellowed, tossing the warrior against the wall. The brick wall collapsed, the broken bits scattered everywhere.
Simon Telcar struggled to his feet, assuming his standard fighting stance. He lunged forward with a stomp kick, his heel catching Daerian full in the chest, sending the vampire reeling. He followed up with three heavy jabs to the ribs before striking the throat with twin knife hands.
Daerian shoved him back and kicked him in the face. "Destined indeed. Can hardly hold his own against me…!" He slugged the Destined One in the face and landed a powerful swing kick to the man's solar plexus.
"Who the Hell are you?" Simon gasped, blocking another hard punch and countering with one of his own. Grabbing Daerian's arm, he twisted it swiftly, feeling the bone wrench out of the socket. Using the vampire's momentum against him, he flipped Daerian over onto his back before lunging in for the kill.
His stake hit the wet cobblestone road hard, and splintered. A hard kick to the back of his head sent him sprawling on his face, the gravel cutting his cheek and biting into his palms as he pushed himself up. The filthy water stung his wound but he ignored the irritation.
"I'm your worst nightmare, you turd!" Daerian threw back his head and howled, rain falling off his long hair in streams. He slammed his shoulder into the ruined wall of the school wall, popping his arm back into the socket and screamed in crazed pain. "Clichéd, I know, but you can't win."
"Bollocks!" Simon snapped, pulling out another stake and launching it at his foe. Daerian caught it expertly in mid-flight, and twirled the wooden weapon in his hands, mocking the Slayer that stood before him.
"You actually think that you can kill me with a toothpick?"
Simon's expression revealed his fear. He had slain hundreds, tens of hundreds of vampires, but none of them had put up a fight like this. In all his four years of slaying, he had picked them off easily, sustaining only minor injuries. This one was different… knowledgeable and very strong. "I can try," he said, his defiance a thin façade.
"Bloody Hell! Have none of you idiots ever learnt the virtue of running away?" Daerian exclaimed. "What's there to gain from death, anyway?"
"There is no honor in running." He lunged in with a side kick which the vampire blocked easily. Simon parried one of Daerian's punches, but took a kick to the gut.
"Honor is overrated! There is at least wisdom in running," he said, toying with the stake he still carried. "This brings back so many old memories," he cooed, his maniacal laughter rising over the falling rain.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Simon wiped his face, shaking the water out of his eyes. He cartwheeled forward, coming up in front of Daerian to punch his twice hard in the face, and wrenched the stake out of the vampire's grip, turned it around expertly and slammed it with all his strength… and gasped in shock as Daerian reversed the motion swiftly, turning his own strength against him and the stake punched through his own abdomen.
Pain shot through his body as he collapsed onto the cobblestones, his shock still lingering. Blood flowed freely, running down his shirt and mixing with the dirty water, staining it a deep crimson.
"I told you to run." Daerian strode over to the fallen figure and pulled him up by his hair. Then he whispered, "You never had a chance. I was what you are now, or rather were since you will die."
"Sod off…" the comeback was pained.
"Your son will be next… and will be considerably easier. The boy is weak… at least you put up a fight."
"Excellent work," a happy cheer came from somewhere in the dark. Simon strained his eyes to see a dark clad female form trot over, her umbrella keeping her somewhat dry. "Now, finish him off."
"Why bother, pet? He's as good as dead."
"So we thought then, and it was a big mistake. Another Destined was still called. Finish him off!"
Daerian sighed and bent over the injured slayer. "No hard feelings, mate. Just got to do as the missus says." He seized the man's neck and with a quick twist, broke it. "Happy, darling?"
"Barely. You nearly let another one off."
"How was I supposed to know that one of them would have survived the sewers back then? That some kind-hearted soul would pick him out and nurture him. And remember, pet, it was partly your idea to prolong their suffering."
"Whatever. Point is, we've to take care of that other boy."
"Easier said than done, pet. He's disappeared… sent away somewhere."
"We'll wait. Wait till they screw up. Then…" she said, curling her fingers, "… we'll end the lineage!"
SAN FRANCISCO
"Where are we, anyway?" Buffy asked, her eyes kept intently on their surroundings. The neighborhood wasn't exactly inviting. The streetlamps that lined the street were mostly blown, the working ones flickered erratically, casting malevolent shadows everywhere. The light seemed to be swallowed up by the darkness. The buildings were rundown, mostly abandoned and falling into various stages of disrepair. In short, everything was a mess. In another, the place was totally abandoned.
"Near them," came the reply, as Jonny concentrated harder on sensing Jessie.
"You would know this, how?" she asked, still eyeing about suspiciously.
"I can sense her. We're close."
"Oh, you can sense her, can't you?" Her voice was laden with sarcasm. "And why didn't we do this earlier? Like in daylight?"
"She never let me before. Not like this…" He stopped, studying a corner lot that looked just dilapidated as the others.
"What?"
"We're here."
"How do you know?
"To quote a spandex-wearing superhero, 'My Spider Sense is tingling.' The truth being I just know."
"Where are they anyway?" Buffy peered into the darkness, trying to spot a vampire or two.
"Underground."
"You sure?"
"Positive. You sense them to, don't you?" He nodded towards her drawn stake. "Put it away for now, we'll try to keep a low pro on this."
She shrugged and slipped the stake back into her jacket. "I'm not so sure about this place, it's like walking into their territory."
A topless male walked out of the darkness, lighting a cigarette and taking a long drag. Buffy's hand instinctively reached for her stake, but Jonny waved it away. Then, she noticed that the vampire's body was covered in deep wounds, gouges from talons tore their tracks deep into his flesh, chunks of skin missing. If she had to guess, she would say that the guy had just emerged from an all-out demon brawl.
Noticing her scrutiny and mistaking it for interest, the vampire leered at her, blowing out another cloud of smoke from his dead lungs. "Nice night, eh, hunny?" he remarked. Ticking a glance at Jonny, he added, "You wanna ditch your boy an' hang wit'a real man?" He flexed a bicep thoughtfully.
Buffy smiled her best 'I'm-such-a-bimbo' smile and sauntered over. "What exactly do you have in mind?"
"You and me at a bar."
She could hardly stop herself from rolling her eyes. "Sounds real fun," she quipped. "What about all those scratches?"
"You jus' missed a good ol' brawl, missy. I knocked 'em all out!" He puffed out his chest in pride and expelled yet another foul smelling cloud of smoke.
"There's a fight?" she asked, smiling brightly. "A ring and all?"
He nodded, looking at her like she wasn't that bright. "You wanna come cheer?"
She ticked a glance at Jonny, who gave her a brief nod. "No, I rather do this," she bit off, snapping off her bubbly exterior. She socked him twice in the jaw and drove her knee into his gut. Yanking her stake out, she punched him once more before driving it home. Dust.
"So, we step in now?"
Jonny nodded. "Nice act."
"Who was acting?" She smiled the smile again. It disappeared. "Let's move."
The shop inside was pretty much like the neighborhood, falling apart. The beams had nearly rotted away, dust was thick on the floor, except for a distinctive trail that led towards the back of the shop.
"You think they'll post sentries?"
Jonny shook his head. "Not likely. Who's gonna come here anyway? There's no one near enough to pose a threat."
"Quiet."
"Not really. You hear that?"
"That rhythmic pounding and rumbling? Sounds like an underground club."
"Underground fight club."
"I'll bet the entrance is right about, here." She stopped next to a trapdoor, a ring on the floor.
"Looks heavy, but hey, no sweat. What's Slayer strength for anyway?" Jonny leaned over and grabbed the ring, hefted it twice to get a feel of it and yanked hard. The door fell back with him. "Damn, didn't know it was that loose."
"Whoa… I think we just signed up for a lot of crap."
He understood. The noise that came from the gaping hole was loud, really loud. Cheering and thumping echoed in the empty space, shattering the silence. "I think we just found the Fight Club."
"Cool… any chance of meeting Brad Pitt?"
"More likely to meet Loui the vamp."
"I'll take that too." She stepped back and peered in one more time. "Well, after you, hot shot."
Jonny swung himself in and felt like climbing right out. The basement extended through at least 2 shops. The vast space below was filled with vampires, easily near a hundred of them. They massed around a big ring, where two vampires squared off, displaying a certain amount of aptitude of martial arts. He heard a soft scuffle as Buffy dropped down next to him. He looked over at her and smiled wanly when she mouthed shit!
"You remember saying something about the sudden influx of missing persons? Well, we just found them. That's the good part. The bad part, we're gonna have to kill them all."
"Are you kidding?" she hissed. "I suck at math, but I'm not that bad!"
"You smell that?"
She wrinkled her nose. "Smells like leaking gas."
He pointed to the base of the stairs. At least a dozen tanks of gas stood in the corner of the cellar.
"Yeah, so? You wanna blow us up as well?"
"That could happen, but I'm hoping to skip that part." He handed her a Zippo lighter.
"You know, I don't really have a good record with fire… I'm sure you didn't hear about what I did to my old high school?"
"You blew up the gym, that's why you're the girl for this."
"What're you going to do? Fight them?"
He grinned and winked. "Work fast."
"You're crazy!"
"I'm discrete."
"Like hell you are!"
"Don't argue, just get to work. Loosen up the valves… when I give the signal, blow us up!"
"What's the signal…?" But he was already gone, leaping off the stairs and landing softly below. He trotted over to the congregation of vampires and made his way through the crowd. No one seemed to notice him, the fight was too engrossing.
All around, fangs were bared as they called for blood, cheering on either fighter, or some were calling for them to kill each other. The combat was brutal, fists pulping flesh and kicks throwing each other apart.
"Halt!" The vampires stopped at command. That voice, that aristocratic voice that concealed all that bullshit. Jonny gritted his teeth and swung his view to the source. There he was, standing in what seemed to be some kind of balcony. Beside him, his bitch preened, smiling and next to her, Jessie sat, stone-faced.
"You've done well. But tonight, we have a special guest. A special competitor who will prove who's the better fighter." A spotlight suddenly centered on Jonny, blinding him momentarily with the glare. "We have a slayer with us tonight, a Destined One, to be more accurate." Turning his handsome face at Jonny, he smiled that annoying grin.
All around Jonny, the vamps turned on him, getting ready to lunge at him. He pulled out his stake and prepared to do some serious damage. A foolish vampire lunged forward, and impaled itself of the sharp tip. It was dusted before Jonny pulled out the stake.
"Any more takers?" he yelled, snapping a kick at a vampire that had ventured too close.
"No more!" Daerian barked. "Not yet."
Jonny looked at him, glaring. "I can take them!"
"I'm sure you can. But not like this." He motioned towards the ring.
"I will not play your game!"
"Oh you will… if you want to get out of this alive. True, you have skills but there is no way you can take a hundred odd vampires at once."
Jonny fumed, knowing that he had no choice. Plus, he needed to give Buffy some time to set up the fireworks. He marched towards the ring, shoving the occasional vampire that got in his way. He swung himself gracefully over the ropes that formed a crude barricade for the ring. He shrugged off his jacket and dropped in on the floor. "Bring it on then."
Daerian threw himself off the balcony and descended gracefully, like a swooping shadow. His dark trench billowed as he stepped forward. Gesturing towards a display rack of ornate weapons, he said, "Select your weapon of choice."
"Got all I need right here," Jonny said, smiling cockily and twirling his stake around. "Do we play by my rules or what?"
"What are your rules?" Prumiva said from her place.
"Battle to the death, I take out any vampires that come close."
Daerian nodded. "Very well, then." Three muscle-bound vamps stepped forward, but only one got into the ring. He swung a Morningstar mace, the spiky ball whipping about in deadly arcs. "Meet Jake."
"Hi, Jake, pleased to meet you. I'm Jonny Quest, maybe you've heard of me. The Destined One?" Jonny shook his head in mock frustration. "Can we start now?"
"Start!"
Jake moved faster than Jonny thought was possible for a muscle-bound gorilla. In a flash, the vampire was in his face, and slamming a heavy fist into his gut. Jonny grabbed the arm and swung on it, kicking Jake hard in the face. Letting go, he punched the vampire hard and gave him a hard uppercut. Ducking a swing from the mace, he kicked the vampire in the midsection. He was thrown back by a strong shove. A mock cartwheel planted two powerful kicks in the vampires face. Leaping forward, Jonny tackled the vampire to the ground and whipped out his stake to finish him off when a pair of heavily corded arms enveloped him and crushed him with deadly force.
Jonny wheezed, bright spots dancing across his vision as another powerful contraction forced the air out of his lungs. Jerking his head back, he smashed into the vampire's nose. Feeling the arms loosen, he whirled around and slammed a hard punch to the already pulped nose. A jumping kick snapped the vampire's neck back.
Sensing the attack and simply allowing his instincts to react, Jonny rolled out of the way, just in time to see the Morningstar smash the skull of the other vampire. The vampire disintegrated in an instant. Looking over, Jonny saw the sword that the vampire had carried, and was relieved that he did not use it. Rolling again to avoid another devastating blow, Jonny picked up the sword and swung it in a powerful curve, catching Jake across the knees. As the vampire toppled forward, Jonny raised his sword and whipped it through; catching him across the neck and taking it clean off. A light smattering of dust fell over him.
Jonny pulled himself to his feet. He glared at Daerian who grinned amiably back at him. "Guess we're not just playing by my rules, huh?" He clutched the sword and gave it a few test swings. "Thing's got some bite," he commented.
Daerian nodded at the third gorilla to get in. Two smaller vampires flanked him, one male and the other female. The gargantuan ape wielded a long spear while the female clutched twin daggers and the smaller male was armed with an entire arsenal of throwing knives and shurikens.
"Crap!" Jonny muttered, sword at ready. The smaller male attacked first, launching two shurikens from different angles. Jonny deflected one with his sword and kicked the other jagged spinning disc. Both flew into the crowd, injuring several vampires. Not enough to kill them though.
Spinning away from the female, he swung his sword at his biggest assailant and gritted his teeth when the blade bit into the handle of the spear harmlessly. Half-turning, he slammed a backhand into the female vamp, and kicking her legs out from under her. As she fell, he yanked the blade out of the spear and kicked the big one between his legs. Bending his knees slightly, he leapt backwards, tucking his knees to his chin as he reached the peak of his flip. He landed behind the smaller male and kicked him forward. Just as he was about to stake the vamp, he saw the big one coming at him. Full speed and very pissed.
His moment of distraction was enough for the smaller one to roll aside and launch several throwing knives at Jonny. Jonny's neck barely cleared the knives as one nicked him in the shoulder while the other hit him square in the upper arm. Yelling in pain, he dodged the spear attack, deflecting the attack by kicking the attacker in the small of his back. Stumbling out of control, the big vampire's spear ran right through the smaller male, piercing its heart and dusting it.
Jonny didn't have time to witness his handiwork as he swung the sword around and decapitated the approaching female vamp. Whirling around, he launched the sword at the last one, catching him in the throat. As the vampire gurgled in agony, he pulled out his stake and jammed in through. He rescued the sword before it fell to the ground.
"It's him!" Prumiva exclaimed, her tone shocked. "The mirror of Aefriol!"
"What are you talking about?" Jessie looked at the woman, no monster, as she trembled, watching the fight below. "Who's the mirror of Aefriol?"
"Him!" She got up, and pulled Jessie with her. "We must get out. This is one battle that we cannot win. He is Aefriol…. And we're doomed if we stay and fight."
"Jonny? Why are you afraid of him now?"
"It's only now that I see him so clearly. See his strength and power."
"That's not all that you're afraid of. What's there that scares you so?"
"His love." She tugged Jessie again. "Come on now!"
"No!" Jessie swung the woman against the wall, slamming her hard. "We're not going anywhere! Talk to me now!"
"You stupid…"
"Shut up, bitch!" Jessie spat, slapping Prumiva hard. "Tell me what I want to know. Why are you so afraid of Jonny?" The roar of the crowd was deafening below, all calling for the death of the Destined.
"Only he can wield the Blade of Aefriol…" Prumiva gasped, pushing Jessie off. With ferocious speed, she lashed out hard with a kick that caught Jessie in the midsection and threw herself off the edge of the balcony. Jessie got up and followed, speeding after the fleeing shadow. She threw herself forward in a flying tackle, bringing Prumiva down.
Jessie lashed out in fury, punching the older woman in the face multiple times. Prumiva threw her off but had no time to run as Jessie launched herself at her in an all-out attack barrage. Each attack was followed with a deadly force couple with pinpoint precision. Prumiva was a fighter in her own respect and she took and gave, sparring with Jessie.
"What is the Blade of Aefriol?" Jessie hissed, sweeping Prumiva off her feet with a quick sweeping motion.
"That is not my biggest fear!" Prumiva cried back, clawing viciously at Jessie.
"Then, what is?" A hard axe-kick flattened the woman again,
"His love for you! That's what makes him so strong. That's why it's not safe…"
Jessie smiled. "You spineless bitch! You would leave Daerian here all alone to save your own sagging ass!"
Prumiva slapped the girl hard. "I've lived longer than you, and roamed much longer than that. Don't you ever dare to presume my survival tactics! And my butt is not sagging!"
Jessie lashed out with a kick, but Prumiva caught her foot deftly and used a sudden twist to throw her off balance. Then, she was off, running for the exit. Two quick bounds later and she was out. Jessie followed, only pausing momentarily to punch the Slayer once, but only enough to stun her. She understood the Slayer's mission, and she knew her own. Her soul was strong tonight, and the demon would lose.
Jonny pulled the throwing knife out of his arm, and threw it aside. The wound smarted but he knew it wasn't that bad. He would heal fast. "You sure you wanna lose anymore of your dogs?" he asked Daerian, who was glowering where he stood. "I mean, if you're gearing towards some kinda vamp takeover, don't you need them around?"
"True, they're all valuable, but not irreplaceable. However, you're right about one thing, I don't want to lose any more than I already have, so it's time to end this." Daerian strode towards the ring, pulling off his trench as he walked. The dark coat was tossed casually aside as he flipped into the ring.
"Weapons, or hand-to-hand?" Jonny asked, focused.
"How about we notch it up some more? Say, anything goes?" Daerian snarled, his face morphing to take the feral visage of a vampire.
Jonny looked about and saw all the scattered weapons and nodded. "Fine." He threw the sword at one of the four pillars that formed the points of the ring's perimeter.
"Foolish!" Daerian lunged forward, his fists hitting nothing. A kick caught him in the back of his head and he stumbled forward. Growling, he turned to face Jonny. Catching the Destined One's arm, he pulled him close, snapping his head to collide with the boy's. A backhand sent the Slayer backwards. Jonny blocked Daerian's kick and used his hands to propel his body in a helicopter motion, landing three hard kicks to the vampire's chest. Flipping back onto his feet, he blocked a sidekick with his raised knee and leaned in for a powerful elbow strike.
Daerian rolled backwards and yanked the sword out of the pillar. Jonny tumbled forward, catching the spear shaft as he got up. He heard the soft swish of the blade slicing sideways as he breached backwards, landing on his hands and completing the cartwheel by bringing up both legs in a powerful kick to Daerian's face. Using the butt of the shaft, he jabbed Daerian in the abdomen and swept the vampire off his feet with a powerful upward sweeping motion. He leapt at a pillar, using the strength in his left leg to push him off to first avoid a slicing motion and then to plant a hard kick to Daerian's head. The kick was deflected and Jonny felt the bite of the sword across his back.
Crying out in pair, he tucked and rolled to break his ungainly fall. When he got up, he saw that he had left a big smear of blood across the dusty floor. The alkaline vamp dust burned his wound.
"You were right about the sword. It does have some bite." Daerian grinned his feral grin, a small trickle of blood at his mouth.
"Screw you!" Jonny whipped the spear around is a large semicircle, before plunging it into the ground and using it to propel him forward like a pole-vaulter. His kick caught Daerian off-guard in the chest. He brought the spear up, ripping off a chunk of the floor as he cracked the shaft across Daerian's head. "Damn, your head is hollow!"
He grunted when Daerian planted a solid kick in his abdomen and leaned in to slug him hard in the face. He barely recovered when another punch hit him, and another and another. Blood obscured his vision, but Jonny was able to break the cycle and gave Daerian a series of his own punches. He took a deep breath, and then he smelt it. Above the very ripe smelling basement, he could smell the pungent odor of leaking gas. Taking half a step back and then skipping forward for a powerful thrust kick, Jonny floored Daerian before vaulting over the ropes and staking a vampire that got in his way before batting a few more aside with the spear. He ran as fast as he could, heading for the exit.
"Buffy, throw over the lighter!" he yelled, hoping that she could hear it. The odor was so pungent now that his eyes watered as he ran. The lighter came flying and he caught it and flipped the top. "Get out!" He saw he blond head nod and then she was gone. He flew up the stairs, flicking the lighter to life and tossing it down the gaping darkness. Several vampires who had been fast enough pushed past him in their panic and ran outside. Buffy saw them and gave chase, stake in ready for some major dusting.
The flame seemed to flicker out for a moment, before the blinding flash as it caught the first wave of methane. The rolling cloud of flame engulfed everything below, and the shrieks of terror were so loud that Jonny could hear them as the eruption of flames shook the very foundation of the building, the floor becoming warm from the intense heat below.
And suddenly, from the sea of flame below, a black figure erupted through the exit, tumbling out unburned as a column of flame reared out of the exit, blackening the ceiling above and setting fire to the rotting wood. The sudden intensity of the heat threw Jonny back,
The figure got up and screamed in rage. "You bloody bastard!" he screamed as he lunged at Jonny and picked him up by the front of his T-shirt. He flung the slender frame across the room with one arm, the shirt ripping off. Jonny bounced hard into the fuse box, the wooden box splintering. He fell with a pained moan as the splinters bit into his skin. The live wires above shorted and sparked, scattering their sparks like sparklers on the Forth of July.
Jonny pushed himself off and pulled off the rest of the ruined shirt. He wiped the blood out of his eyes, wiping his stained hands on his sides. "Hate me now, don't you?"
Daerian howled in rage and flew across the room. Then they were locked in combat.
Punch. Kick. Punch, elbow strike, knee. Roundhouse. Dodge. Counter attack.
Block, block. Dodge, uppercut. Turning kick, axe kick. Flying kick.
Jonny stumbled back and then toppled back when Daerian knocked him back with a stunning crescent kick.
"You destroy everything, don't you? That's what you do! You destroyed my vision."
Jonny flipped to his feet. Then, he ran full speed at the vampire and jumped and flipped over Daerian's head to avoid a kick. At the peak of his leap, he twisted and lashed out with a quick and hard kick, sending the vampire sprawling. He strode over and kicked Daerian in the face. "You destroyed her! You turned her! And you accuse me of destroying everything?" he yelled, kicking again. Daerian caught his ankle and twisted it savagely, throwing the boy off balance.
He underestimated Jonny's will though, for when he got up, the Destined was next to him, ready for round three. A part of a beam fell, cinders bouncing of the concrete floor. More bits fell around them, scattering.
"You think you're better than me, don't you? You rich, arrogant brat!" Daerian yelled, pounding Jonny mercilessly, driving his knee into the boy's lower abdomen.
Jonny gained some leverage and countered a blow with a hard palm strike of his own. Leaning over, he brought his leg up in a reverse kick. Dodging a punch, he grabbed Daerian's outstretched arm, and flipped the vampire over onto his back and fell astride on his, decking him hard.
"Yeah, I think I'm better than you! I'm not all stupid and homicidal! I don't go killing innocent people and hell, I'm not evil!" Jonny yelled, slamming Daerian's head hard on the ground.
Daerian laughed. "You know how all the Destined Ones are related? How it is a continuum of warriors from one bloodline?"
Jonny paused just for a second. "So what?"
Daerian heaved him off and rolled to his feet. "So we're not quite different after all."
"Would you just shut up for one moment and stop preaching through your ass? If I kicked your bloody behind right now, I would so give you a concussion since your head is so tightly wedged there!" Jonny snapped, throwing himself at Daerian again.
Daerian used the impulsive attack to his advantage and tripped him before settling on him much like the way Jonny had done earlier. "Impulsive too. Now I know that we're related."
"What do you mean?" Jonny cried angrily, struggling to get up but stopping when Daerian pulled his stake out and placed it at his throat.
"Oh come on! Even you should have figured this out by now! I was a Destined One. You and me, we're…"
"…related." Jonny finished, numbness washing over him.
"Which is what makes us the same. So what do you think makes her love you?"
Jonny was silent.
"Why won't she love me?"
"She'll never love you!" Jonny snarled.
"Not an answer to my question, but I'll let that pass. Now, answer this. Would you say she loved you for what you are? Or is it because of what you have? Would she still love you if you lost all that which she cherished in her memory of you?"
Jonny cried a strange guttural sound, pushing upwards with all his strength, ignoring the point of the stake as it grazed the side of his neck. Wrenching the stake out of Daerian's hands, he kicked the vampire's long legs out from under him and pinned him to the ground with one hand. Daerian struggled, but the strength that flowed through Jonny was frightening.
"I will never be what you are! I'm the Destined, and you're just a coward who sold out! She loves me!"
"So you think! How would you know she ever truly loved you?" Daerian spat.
Jonny smiled, a peaceful smile. "You know, you asked if I thought I was better than you. No, I don't think that I'm better than you. I KNOW that I am. At least, I had love, and you never did!"
Daerian's face went cold and he struggled again, managing to grab Jonny's neck and he began to tighten his hold, cutting out the air supply. "I'm…"
"You're dust!" Jonny wheezed, slamming the stake through the vampire's chest, feeling the ribs crack as the stake went through, feeling the minute resistance as the stake pierced the soft unbeating heart. He watched the feral expression leave Daerian's face. And then, there was only dust.
The rest of the world came back in perspective now. The roar of the flames all around was deafening now, the dull orange blaze leaving behind black scorch marks. Jonny coughed, the smoke irritating his throat. Hot ash flew all around, stinging his wounds and burning new ones. The hot air around him was a living entity, rushing and whipping, blistering heat that curled the hairs on his arms. Perspiration trailed down his bare chest as Jonny searched for a way out. Spying a window through the flickering flames, he took a deep breath before running full speed at the window and leaping through it. He shot through the glass, tumbling painfully on the asphalt, fragments of glass raining on him, cutting him where he landed on them.
Jonny breathed in the cool air, allowing himself to succumb to the dull ache that had become an integral part of his soul. A pair of boot clad feet stopped in front of him. He arched his neck and saw Buffy standing over him. She offered him a hand and helped him to his feet.
"Okay, anything else you wanna add to your list of crimes. I think robbery should go right up there with arson." She brushed absently at a cut on her cheek. Aside from that, she looked pretty much unscathed.
Jonny grinned his lopsided grin. "We got to find her."
Buffy sighed. "That chick of yours is a real firecracker." She paused and looked at his battered face. "I'm thinking you wanna be alone on this one." She began to walk away.
"Buffy," he called. She turned to face him. "I wouldn't mind some back up."
She smiled.
Jessie looked around. The streets were empty. One thing she was sure of, Prumiva was gone. Jessie wanted to scream in frustration. Already she could feel her soul weakening, the demon beginning to reach out again.
Please be safe, Jon.
"I'm here."
Buffy hung back, standing at the side. She wasn't supposed to be a part of this, she understood that much. She was only there to finish the job, should whatever crazy plan Jonny had briefed her on fail. By fail, he had meant his death. She was under no circumstances supposed to intervene, even if she could save him. His instructions were clear enough.
"Jessie!" she heard him call out. She turned to face him as he ran towards her. Her heart ached to see him that way, all battered and beaten up.
He grabbed her and pulled her close to him, kissing her tenderly as they embraced. "Bite me," he whispered to her as he kissed her cheek.
"What?" she said, pulling away.
"Trust me," he whispered. "I need you to bite me."
"No, I can't."
"Yes, you can. The demon in you craves it. Let it feed!"
"You will die."
"Whatever the risk, you must trust me now."
"Jonny…"
"Shh… Jess," he silenced her, placing a finger on her cold lips. "You have to trust me."
"But I…"
"Do you trust me, Jess?"
"Yes."
"Then, bite me!"
He felt her face morph as he held her close. He felt her fangs pierce his neck, and cringed a little at the sharp pain. Then he felt her draining him. Jonny began to chant, his Greek urgent and steady:
Oh mighty gods and goddesses of old!
I call upon ye to aid me
Mighty Zeus, Watchful Hera, Wise Athena, Loving Aphrodite!
Aid me now in dispossession of a soul
Through our blood we are as one
Unbind her soul from me
Free her from the fate that awaits me!
So as it was done, let it be undone.
I set you free!
Jonny, you must stop Prumiva.
How?
Use the Blade of Aefriol.
What is that?
I don't know. But whatever it is, she's afraid of it. She's afraid of you.
What is she going to do?
End the world, somehow. Oh…
What? What is it?
I can feel it, Jon. I'm free.
I love you.
I love you too. Always. No matter what anyone says… even myself.
Jessie tore away from Jonny's throat, her lips bloody. For a fleeting moment, the demonic face reverted to its original beauty. A soft smile crossed her face as a radiant globe rose from her body and rapidly dissipated. She was free!
Jonny snarled at the demon that stood before him now. "Now, you die. No mercy, no holding back!" He slugged it hard in the face, sending it sprawling backwards with a hard uppercut. No longer did the luxurious red mane and delicate features soften his heart.
"Jonny, that hurt!" she pouted, her green eyes flashing.
She received an axe kick in response. "You're not her. Nothing like her!"
She picked herself up, and sneered, the lovely visage gone, replaced by a heavy brow and yellow eyes. "How'd you know what she… I was like? You knew close to nothing about me!"
"I knew she loved me, that I loved her," Jonny responded, still referring to Jessie in the third person.
"I never loved you. I needed to get close to you, that's all!"
Jonny kicked her in the face. "Stop speaking like you're her. She's gone… I know that. You're just…" He kicked again, but this time she caught his foot. She wrenched it, twisting his ankle viciously as he crumpled to the wet asphalt.
"You're pathetic, Jonny! You've always been. Poor little rich boy… my foot! You were just a spoilt brat all the way!"
"Keep yapping, bitch. You're making this a whole lot easier," he snarled back. He struck her with his free foot, slamming the heel into her chest. Pushing forward with his hands, he kicked her with both feet under the chin before using the momentum to swing back onto his feet.
Jessie got up and wiped away the smear of blood on her face. "You've been taught well, by my father."
"No offense meant, but that I learnt from Jackie Chan movies." He slipped to the left as she attacked, coming up behind her to kick her in the rear. "That, I learnt from Race," he quipped.
Jessie threw herself at him, slamming one boot after another into his stomach, watching the heel dig into his flesh. He caught her foot and used it to bounce her against a wall. Jessie got up and saw an oncoming tram. Using her vampire agility, she threw herself into it, grabbing a pole and dropping in.
Jonny ran after the vehicle, his desperation fueling him on as he leapt in through the back. "Stop the tram!" he yelled. He ran forward and tackled Jessie. "Stop the tram! Everybody out!"
The tram screeched in protest as the emergency brakes were applied. The few remaining passengers tumbled out even before it came to full stationary mode. The last one out was the driver.
Jessie threw Jonny over, and he hit the brake, breaking it under the pressure. The tram jolted into motion, picking up speed as it went downhill. Using the pole as leverage, Jessie struck Jonny full in the chest with both feet, sending him flying towards the open door.
Jonny saw the road rushing to greet him as he flew towards the exit. Reaching out desperately, he grabbed a pole and pulled himself back in, to be greeted by a punch to the face. Grabbing the pole above his head with both hands, he lifted his weight of the floor for a moment, draping his legs over her shoulders, before tossing her aside onto the seats. She retaliated by kicking him in the head.
"You will die here, tonight!"
"You first," Jonny pulled out his stake, tested it once and thrust it in. "Goodbye, Jessie!"
Her scream was cut off as she fell into dust. The tram was trembling; threatening to derail at the current velocity it was traveling at. The brakes were useless, and the incoming traffic was coming up fast. Taking a deep breath, he grabbed the wheel and twisted it sharply, throwing the balance of the tram completely off. He held on to the side as the racing vehicle tilted in slow motion and crashed onto its side, sliding on the road. The steel screeched in protest, sparks leaping off where the contact was heavy. Jonny screamed to get the sound out of his head.
The tram came to a halt. Getting up, he climbed through a window and tumbled to the ground. It was over. His mission was over. He had done it, done it his way. He looked up at the top of the hill. A slender silhouette stood there. Buffy. In the moonlight, he could see her smile.
He got up.
MAINE
Hadji opened his eyes and smiled. They were free. The both of them were now free.
"God bless, my friends," he whispered to himself.
To be continued…
Comments anyone? Send them to me at wenxina@hotmail.com