Author:Nick Title: Fury of the Beast Feedback: Please..............I need it.
Disclaimer: Um, I own nothing, make nothing, know nothing. Wait, scratch that last one. I know enough to know this stuff ain't mine. I'm just having fun, I'll put the characters back where I found em, unharmed.(Mostly unharmed, I'm thinking about staking Spike again)
Abdul wandered L.A after dark, headed in the area of the hunter's last known location. A slum area, nobody would live here if they had a choice in the matter, so it would make some sense that a hunter would stay in that area.
Vampires tended to multiply here in large numbers, then later killed off by each other, wayward humans who were smarter than the average mortal, or by their own stupidity, getting caught in the sunlight while looking for shelter.
Only the vampires with the thinnest blood can walk in the sunlight. They are little more than ghouls in power, and barely even qualify as a vampire. A Kindred of any generation stronger than they would be far superior, despite the few handicaps that come with thicker blood.
It was no wonder diablerie was something many vampires did. Increasing one's power increased one's weaknesses, but a smart Kindred knew how to get around them. The blood of a Methuselah was something nearly every vampire on the face of the earth wanted. A member of the fourth, fifth, or sixth generation could nearly match the power of the Antediluvians themselves, and have the power not unlike that of a demigod.
The only reasons Christof managed to defeat Vukodlak was because Christof was a fast learner, and he had an artifact of the Antediluvians helping him out. Although the rocket launcher his buddy Wilhem used certainly helped out. Not to mention Christof did fight like a demon.
Abdul was told he managed to slay a large number of szlachta, a war ghoul, and a full-fledged member of the Tzimisce clan, as a mortal.
No wonder he was Embraced. If Christof was more easily controlled in the past, he would have made an excellent soldier for the Brujah. Abdul just hoped Christof's childer, if there were any, wouldn't have the same adaptability, wits and strength as he. It was against the order of things to have one vampire at eigth gen able to match one of fifth gen, when the fifth gen vampire was literally two thousand years older.
Embracing hunters might produce powerful vampires, but what happens when they turn on you? Which brought his mind back to his current situation. Finding the mortal hunter.
He wandered throughout the slums, relying upon the small map he'd been supplied, and narrowing the search area as he went.
He would find the hunter's lair, no matter the cost.
It was his contract. Find the mortal who dared kill Kindred, and remove him from that firm's interests.
It left some space open as to how, but Abdul would just kill this one.
One Christof Romuald in the world was quite enough.
Meanwhile, in Sunnydale.
The creature, 314, also known as Adam, ran away from the place of his birth. Or construction, which might be a better word for it.
On the floor behind him, lay the dead body of his creator, Maggie Walsh, and her blood dripped off the spike in his left arm.
He had to learn. He had to know his purpose.
Meanwhile, somewhere in Australia.
The misshapen form hunched over a table, looking over a map.
If he could just find out where Toreador was, he could launch a nuclear device, and end this part of the Jhayd he and his brothers started so long ago.
The sewers that were his childer's hiding places in this modern world were too quaint for him, for he was a Cainite of the Third Generation.
He was Nosferat.
He was close....so close to his rival, his hated foe.
Toreador was one obsessed with beauty. Something forever beyond his grasp, ever since he had made that transgression so long ago.
Caine himself had cursed him with this fate, and he had unknowingly spread it to his own childer.
That had turned his heart to ash.
His hatred boiled out of an endless well, and he did not care that so many innocents would die by his action.
They were all pretty, and he was not. So they didn't matter at all. The mortals were as ants to him in any case.
There was somebody behind him.
He turned.
There was another pretty one. A Brujah, one with thin blood.
Not a threat at all.
With a wave of his hand, he threw the Brujah back, with an unseen force.
With a quick move, the Brujah rose back to his feet.
Nosferat sent another wave of power to crush this ant beneath the weight of his mind.
But the Brujah drew something out of the folds of his trenchcoat, and the item pierced the wave as if the power of the Antediluvian was canceled out by the weapon.
Nosferat managed to get a good look at the weapon, and saw that iT was a sword.
A very familiar sword.
It was the only one of it's kind. It was quenched in the blood of one of his brothers during it's forging, and it held a portion of his power.
It was a legend in its own right. It had spilled the blood of many creatures. Mortal, Kindred, Ghoul, Lupine, Demon, Angel, Wraith, Monster, Hero, it had tasted the blood of all.
In the hands of any being that could wield it, it was dangerous and deadly. It was capable of taking the blood from the victim, and giving it to the wielder. Kindred who wielded it may not even have to feed, if they battle enough with it. It was an abomination, yet so many Kindred and other creatures wanted to get their hands on it.
It was the Ainkurn Sword.
For the first time in several thousand years, the Beast that was Nosferat, the founder of his clan, Cainite of the Third Generation, Herald of Gehenna, felt something few Kindred half as ancient and powerful as he had ever felt.
Fear.
"Who are you?" Nosferat managed to say.
"My name is Christof Romuald, and I am here to destroy you."
With a roar, the two powerful vampires leapt at each other.
Nicholas signed the forms with a slow, steady hand.
His muscles ached and strained, and he felt so weak, but he couldn't stand being in the hospital one minute longer.
The visit from that vampire had told him one thing: As long as he was in there, he was helpless. If there was one thing Nicholas didn't like being, it was helpless.
Using all of his concentration to keep the pain off his face, he walked out of the hospital, his belongings, and weapons, in a duffel bag.
Good thing he got those permits. Killing vampires and demons is rather hard when you lack something to lop its head off.
With a sigh, he walked into the night.
Xander walked slowly, wondering exactly what he'd do.
He ambled his way into Angel Investigations, still thinking to himself.
In some distant corner of his mind, he heard Cordelia walk in from outside, a few bags in her hands.
She set the bags down on one of the desks, and sat down in a wooden chair behind it, then blew one of her hair strands out of her eyes.
"What's in the bags, Cor?" He asked.
"Blood for Angel, a sandwich and soup for me, and a crummy caesar salad for Wesley. I swear, he's a health nut." She replied.
"And you're not?"
"Well, I have a figure to maintain, Wesley has no figure whatsoever. Or style, or coordination."
They shared a little laugh.
"Anyway, where's Angel?" Xander asked.
"Oh, he's out patrolling, helping people out, you know, acting all 'Dark Avenger." Cordy said.
Xander raised an eyebrow.
"'Dark Avenger'? Who thought that one up? That's terrible!" Xander chuckled.
"Hey, I thought that up! And it's not like you have room to talk, 'Nighthawk!'" Cordy said, laughing a bit.
Xander groaned.
"Okay, okay, I get your point. Damn, that seemed like so long ago." He mused.
"Yeah, the good old days. I miss them sometimes." Cordelia said.
Xander nodded in agreement.
Cordy looked at Xander with a piercing gaze.
"What's on your mind? You look like you've lost your puppy or something."
"I'm trying to figure out what I'm going to do. Since I left Sunnydale, I haven't done much about anything. I've just kinda been sitting here." Xander said.
"Maybe you should go and follow Captain Kirk's motto." Cordy replied.
"What's that?"
"Make a difference. Change things, if only slightly. A small difference is better than no difference at all. That's why we've set up this little business here. It may not make that large a difference in the grand scheme of things, but we're helping people out. Maybe you should too, since you can." Cordy said.
Xander stayed silent for a moment.
"I'm not going to say what you should do exactly, and I'm not saying you should join the Angel team right off the bat. I'm saying you have to find your own way of doing things. It might be here, or in Sunnydale, or somewhere else, but you should go and do what you can, somewhere." Cordelia said, sighing once she was done.
Xander nodded slowly.
"I'll think about that. Thanks Cor."
"No problem, Xander." She said, smiling.
Then she gripped her forehead.
"Aw crap."
The vision hit her like a ton of bricks, filling her mind with images, sounds, tastes and feelings, along with a lot of pain.
Xander was at her side in a second, holding her, hoping she was all right.
After a seeming eternity, the vision stopped, allowing her to think again.
She looked at Xander with dread in her beautiful eyes.
"The hunter, Xander, you haven't got much time. You have to get to 736 Jameson Road, quickly! There's this punk guy slicing him apart with his own sword!"
Xander nodded, and ran out the door at a faster than human speed.
Xander arrived on the scene, and stepped into the condemned building.
As soon as he did, the smell of blood washed over his supernatural senses, and the Beast within awoke, enjoying the delicious scent.
Xander knocked over a board, following the smell. Through a corridor, past an empty, open room, and into the next hall.
The smell grew stronger as he walked. There was no way any human could give off this much blood and still live.
He must be too late.
He followed his nose, and finally arrived at the room the hunter must have been staying in.
Blood. There was more blood in here than in many high-priced-no-brain-required video games.
It was sickening, and yet, stimulating. The blood was on the floor, it looked like a man had tried to drag himself away from whatever had cut him. It was streaked, staining the wooden floor, around an old rocking chair. Blood had been smeared on the wall, looking like someone had wanted to leave a message.
Maybe it meant, 'Nobody hunts us?' Who knew?
Xander noticed a foot locker over by an old matted bed. He walked over to it, carefully avoiding the blood on the floor. It wouldn't do to slip and fall in it.
He opened the foot locker, and his eyes widened once he did.
For inside, was an absolute arsenal of weapons.
A grenade launcher and launch grenades, along with strap to hold said grenades, a pair of shotguns, a couple of machine pistols, some C-4, and what looked like a broken stakegun.
Would be nice against your standard Sunnydale vamp, and dangerous against Kindred.
He closed the footlocker. No sense in leaving all this stuff here, from the looks of things, Nicholas wouldn't need any of these weapons.
He was about to pick up the footlocker when something glinted in the pool of blood, and caught his eye.
He looked over, and wiping some of the blood off with his fingers, he picked it up.
A plain looking gold ring. It wasn't scratched at all, looked like it was in good condition.
Shrugging, Xander wiped it off a bit more, put it in his pocket, picked up the footlocker, and walked out of the building, leaving the smell of blood behind.
Xander walked back into Angel Investigations, carrying the footlocker. Cordy, Angel and
Wesley were all watching a small television set, with shocked expressions on their faces.
He set the footlocker down with a clang, but the others didn't even take notice.
"Hey guys, what's going on?"
"Shhhh!" Cordy hushed him.
Frowning, Xander looked to the TV.
"......cause of the blast is still unknown, and city officials are still investigating the central point from which the explosion originated, but the blast radius is large, and most citizens are searching for their lost loved ones. Once again, a large explosion ripped through the outskirts of Sydney, Australia, destroying homes and sending debris flying through the air at a fantastic speed. Sixty people are missing, and at least ten people are dead, and we're still investigating what caused the blast." The newscaster was saying.
The picture on the TV changed to show a helicopter's view of the area of the explosion.
It looked like a small bomb had gone off. At least a city block in the center had been reduced to rubble, and bricks and debris could be seen throughout the streets. Windows on homes were broken, smashed in by the sudden concussive force. The small forms of police and firemen searching the area, and keeping people back from running into the blast area.
In short, it looked like a small slice of hell had been placed on earth.
Xander bowed his head, mourning the seeming senseless loss of life, in Sydney, Australia.
In Sydney, several hours later.
The sun had set, the battle done.
Two had fought in the center of the destroyed zone. One yet lived, being the victor of the terrible and unholy battle that had been fought that day. Neither had wanted the battle to end the way it had, with the loss of the mortal life around them, although for different reasons.
Now, the winner was covered in rubble, and he slowly dug his way out with his unnatural vampirc strength. Now that the sun had set, it was safe for him to come out.
Lifting a destroyed board, kicking away bricks, snarling in pain, the form rose out of the rubble, as a phoenix would be reborn.
Limping away from the destruction, covered in his own blood, and the blood of an Antediluvian drying upon the Ainkurn Sword, Christof set out to find the next one.
The battle was close, the Antediluvian nearly won. The only things that saved him were a good ear, a nearby gas line, a fire spell, and a lot of luck.
He did not expect the power of the Antediluvian to enhance the blast, however.
The next battle must not go like this one did. Nosferat was powerful, yet compared to some of the others, he was weak.
Tremere would be far more dangerous. Tzimisce as well. Haquim the Assamite and Troile the Brujah would be nearly as dangerous. Toreador must not be underestimated. Augustus Giovanni would use all earthly and supernatural forces at his disposal, which was a large amount, due to his Mafia-like connections. As for Ennoia the Gangrel, Christof had no idea. Set he was not looking forward to fighting. He just thanked God that Lasombra had perished while Christof lay in Torpor. Same with Malkav. Ventrue had disappeared, hadn't been heard from in quite some time. Ravnos had been destroyed by the Technocracy.
That meant ten Antediluvians were left. Three were dead, the rest alive or missing, their fate unknown.
He wondered if he could defeat them all.
If he could find them.
But before the next battle with an Antediluvian, it was time to find those mortals he could save in this burning wreckage.
Xander stood on the roof, just after sunset, looking at the last streaks red as the sky darkened, preparing for night. As if in response, the city began to light up, one light at a time until Los Angeles had become its own simulated day.
Soon, the city glittered, almost blocking out all of the stars in the sky. It was as if someone had taken the sky and reversed it, setting it upon the earth. It was quite beautiful, even though it lacked that natural grace, it was still beautiful.
"Hey." Xander heard from behind him.
Xander turned his head, and saw Angel behind him.
"Did I take your brooding spot, Angel?"
Angel let out a small snort.
"I'll take that as a yes."
Angel sighed, and walked up next to Xander, joining him in looking out on the city.
"Cordelia told me what you tried to do yesterday, trying to save the life of that hunter." Angel started.
"I didn't get there in time. There was blood everywhere. There's no way Nicholas could be alive. Looks like I'm not much good at anything, despite getting these cool powers." Xander said, his voice growing more hateful as he spoke.
"You didn't find a body. There's a small chance the hunter is still alive."
"Like that matters. I'm still useless. I'm nobody."
"Xander, do you have any idea of the impact you've had on everyone around you?" Angel said, looking at Xander with an understanding gaze.
Xander shook his head.
"Let me point out a few of them, then. You saved the life of everyone you care about, sometime or another. If not for you, Buffy would have died at the hands of the Master. If not for you, The Judge would have been able to bring Armageddon. None of the others would have thought to steal a rocket launcher. If not for you, just about everyone in your high school class would have been eaten by the Mayor." Angel dictated.
Then Angel sighed.
"If it wasn't for you, chances are I wouldn't be here, helping people. I'd probably be on the streets, feeding on rats again, assuming the world hadn't gone to hell." Angel said.
Xander blinked.
"I thought Buffy was the one to bring you out of your century-long brooding streak?" Xander asked.
"She did. With her, I had a purpose, someone to become worthy of. But even that wasn't enough to swallow my fear of the Master. Without you to remind me of what was important, I wouldn't have done anything. Xander, who you are, is what so many people wish they could be. Here I am, a vampire, and I was so scared I wouldn't do anything. But you, a sixteen-year-old kid at the time, was willing to walk into the Master's lair and face him down for Buffy. You always had courage, Xander. I had to learn how to be courageous. You made a big difference as a human. Xander. All I did as a human, was squander my time and get drunk. I only began to make a difference as a vampire, and you know what kind of difference I made. Even with a soul, I didn't make any good changes to anyone else's life for a hundred years." Angel spoke, saying everything slowly, yet with a ring of truth.
Angel sighed.
Xander just mused over this for a while.
"You've become a vampire, true, but you're still Xander Harris, and something tells me, you're not going to just sit around for long. You're not that kind of person." Angel said.
Xander nodded.
"I think I know what I'm going to do." Xander said.
"What's that?" Angel asked.
"I'm going to take those weapons, rent a car, and head back to Sunnydale." Xander said.
Xander turned away from the view, and disappeared into the night.
Angel shook his head.
"Now I know why people hate me doing that."
More coming up.