Reckless: Abandon - Act 2
by redmoon
Abandon - Act 2
The vampire slowly stroked his chin, acting very thoughtful. His wasn’t a terribly handsome face, a bit high in the cheekbones, a bit thin on the lips, but he characterized himself as ‘just this side of austere’ and left it at that. On his black T-shirt was emblazoned KISS in silver letters.
“I know you’re hunted,” the man opposite him said, keeping always to the shadows of the alley, never saying more than a few words at a time. The vampire’s responses were characterized by long periods of silence. What does one say when this sort of thing happens? What does a vampire say?
“I can make your troubles go away.” The figure shifted in the shadow, lifting something from his pocket. Pearce tensed as he feared the man might draw a stake. But it wasn’t a stake. It was a silver bracelet. The vampire frowned nonetheless.
“What’s that?” Pearce asked as the man in the shadow offered him the bracelet. He flatly refused to touch it until it was identified. He didn’t know all the tricks and trinkets in the world, but he knew someone would have to be especially stupid to take a talisman of any kind without knowing what it was for.
“Not magic,” the man answered, offering the bracelet further from the shadow until Pearce finally took it, albeit hesitantly. “It will protect you from those like me and those who work for me.”
Pearce looked down at the sliver chain with a small silver plate on it, like a dog tag. On the little plate was a symbol IXI. “How’s this going to protect me if it’s not magic?”
The man sighed. “You wear it on your right wrist and anyone who sees it and knows what it means won’t stake you.” The man finally stepped from the shadow as Pearce examined the bracelet contemplatively.
“Will it protect me from your Slayer?”
Addison shook his head. “No. She’s never seen this before and probably wouldn’t care either way anyway.” The Watcher sighed. “And that’s part of the problem.” He looked up into the vampire’s eyes, his gaze hardening. “Her careless attitude could cost innocents their lives. The Council cannot allow that.”
“What you’re asking...” Pearce shook his head, looking back down at the bracelet. “It’s risky for me. You said yourself this thing won’t keep her from staking me. And all you’re offering me is protection from the Council?”
“What else can I give you?” Addison frowned, his bushy white eyebrows coming together. “What more could a vampire ask for?”
“Peace of mind,” Pearce said instantly. He held up the bracelet as a point. “Your guarantee: no matter how many people I eat, this stays permanent. No slaying of the Pierce. I have carte blanche. Agreed?”
The Watcher ground his teeth together. If worse came to worse, he supposed, no one really knew this agreement had ever been made. “Agreed,” he offered his hand and Pearce took it. “Now you know what to do. You could never kill her in combat, not one on one.”
Pearce shrugged. “I know that. I have to get close to her. Make her trust me.”
Addison raised an eyebrow. “Her problem is that she trusts your kind too much. And the only way she’ll trust you is if she has no reason to trust you.”
“Which brings us back to the fact that this little trinket,” the vamp held up the silver chain, “won’t keep me from getting staked.”
Addison shrugged. “I didn’t argue when you said it was risky. But I didn’t chose you at random.” This got Pearce’s attention. “I chose you,” he said slowly, “because you are one of the most elusive vampires the Council has ever tried to track. With our protection, we also have the opportunity to keep tabs on you. And surely you find nothing wrong with that.”
“An institution devoted to killing those like me... and yes, I’m terrifically happy that they’ll now know each time I take a piss.”
Addison nodded. “Good, so you’ll get close to her, then you know what to do.” He turned from the alley and walked out onto the street. “And I’ll be watching you,” he said over his shoulder. “It’s what I do.”
The echo of the many engines slowly died down as the Harley’s stopped in front of the warehouse. Perfect place to call home. Lots of room for the hogs, and just enough foot traffic to make take-out unnecessary.
The lead vamp climbed from his bike and lit a cigarette. The flame from the match danced for a moment before he flicked it to the pavement and squashed it under his snake skin boot. Now to arrange for a lease...
After a moment, as the other gang members dismounted, the lead’s attention was drawn to sounds coming from inside the warehouse. He frowned and shifted his great, leather-clad weight onto his impatient foot. Finally, the small service door near the corner of the building swung fully open and clanged against the cement of the wall. After a long moment, during which the bikers assembled into a rough skirmishing line, most lighting cigarettes and some fingering blades or chains, a figure appeared from the darkness within the vast building. Then another. And then another.
One by one vampires filed out of the warehouse to stand in a long neat line, parallel the biker gang. All of them wore black, either leather or fabric, and their faces were pale to the point of being white. Most had accentuated the black of their hair and eyelashes with some type of makeup and they displayed their many silver or black piercings prominently. There were at least thirty of them.
The leader of the Goths strode forward, the thin silver chain which joined his ear to his bottom lip swaying as he walked. He wore tall black boots with thick heels and carried nothing but a short, shiny dagger.
When the Goth was only eight feet from the biker, he stopped, looking the gang leader up and down with clear contempt. “Are you lost?” his voice was thin and serpentine.
The biker raised an eyebrow and looked along his line of road warriors. “No, we just found our new home.” He snarled. “Looks like it already has a pest problem, though.”
The Goth’s face was unreadable, either from the amount of makeup or the various metal gear attached to it. “You seem to have mistaken this great home for your dwelling.” He made a small bow with his black nailed hand on his chest. “I forgive your oversight and will allow you to leave.”
The biker’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. He looked about himself, as if looking for the fool to whom this snake was speaking. “You will allow us to leave?” He laughed a great belly laugh, immediately joined by his gang. With a rough gesture of his hand, the laughter stopped. The snake was still standing there, placidly. The biker snarled and yanked his cigarette from between his own lips, stuck out his tongue and jammed the fag against it with a hiss. Throwing the butt away, he slid his hand into his leather vest and found his Bowie knife. He brandished it meaningfully as his comrades grinned eagerly. “I’m making no such allowances for you.”
The Goth made another small bow, then in a flash threw his small dagger to the other’s heart. With a howl of rage, the biker stumbled back, dropping his Bowie, the other’s knife up to the hilt in his undead flesh. The biker gang rushed forward with snarls and curses, swinging their various weapons as the Goths met them head on, slashing and stabbing with their many small blades.
The lead Goth was ignored as he watched the lead biker draw the blade from his chest, tossing it angrily to the ground. To prove his annoyance, he vamped out, snarling and gnashing his teeth. The Goth did likewise and they found each other in hand to hand combat.
The biker had superior strength and weight, but the Goth had surprising speed and agility, managing to dodge and block most of the biker’s attacks. Had they both been human, the fight would have ended with the biker tired out, or the Goth failing to duck from a lethal blow. But with nearly limitless stamina, they kept up their dance until all that could be heard from behind them, among their respective armies, were groans and curses. The cult and the gang virtually annihilated each other, maiming beyond recognition or decapitating until there were none left to fight.
Suddenly, as the Goth ducked a vicious left hook from a meaty fist and twisted under another swing to find himself behind the great biker’s back, his vampire hearing told him someone was trying to cut in on their tango. Without the chance to turn around he hissed and evaporated in a shower of dust, the stake remaining where his heart had been.
The biker turned around, intending to deliver a blow right to the face of the twitchy little punk, but his fist found itself locked in the iron grip of a blond haired girl. He winced as her grip tightened.
“I was hoping you two would meet,” she said with a smile. “I’m glad they didn’t get lost – my directions have been known to be a little confusing.” She squeezed and twisted his fist and he winced even more. She glanced at the array of undead bodies and body parts spread out before the warehouse. “Call me lazy, but I’m sure glad I didn’t have to stake each and every one of you.” And without another moment’s hesitation, she thrust the stake into the biker’s chest. With a scream his disintegrated to the pavement.
Now it was only a matter of clean up. Find the heart, pierce the heart. One of her favorite games. She strode forward to the mangled vampires and vampire parts. She smiled as she hefted her stake. There were probably even some nice jackets she could borrow.
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