New Reign - Act 2
The vampire in the black suit set his briefcase on the windowsill. Protected from the deadly rays by the awning, he stepped to the extent of its protective shade. Soon the Slayer, and indeed all the people of this city would see what he was made of: that there was no standing in the way of the deluge and that the Old Ones were indeed coming.
This would convey exactly the message he wanted to pure bloods around the world. We’re here. We’re back. Come forth and be not afraid.
He despised working during daylight hours, as any reputable vampire did, but it was all necessary. Clearing his throat, he looked about at the pedestrians and bumper to bumper traffic. He would have preferred to make his point with Nosphorus; spreading the plague at the same time, but alas, modern mongrel vampires –even those carrying the plague– were unable to survive in simple daylight. Why waste the captains anyway, he thought, the cannon fodder would do the trick.
“Now,” he said quietly. With a chorus of screams, the windows of the coffee shop behind him exploded outward and showered the busy sidewalk with glass. Out from the shop windows and doors poured rank after rank of the Creep’s army. White eyed and blank faced, they marched into the screaming crowds which tried to trample themselves in panic.
Car doors sprang open and people scrambled over their hoods and leapt over the roofs of taxis to the other side of the street. With the sudden and silencing crash, a body hit the windshield of one of the stopped cars. All heads turned to the shattered storefront and the white eyed New Yorkers who stood there, preparing.
“People of New York,” the vampire in black said with his hands raised theatrically, “panic.” On mental cue, the army began to do what it had been designed to.
Six minutes after the first body hit the windshield, a line of riot police rounded the corner and came face to face with the battle, already in progress. Trapped between the crazed zombies and the trampling feet, the pedestrians and motorists were pressed against the shops across the street from the coffee shop. Most of the shops against which they were pressed were already broken and as soon as the police arrived, a new wave of panic enveloped the citizens.
Several of the police officers in riot gear ducked behind their shields as a shotgun went off in the midst of the terrified people. The infected were crossing the street, marching and scrambling and leaping completely over the cars which made an ineffective wall between them and their targets.
With blood covering her shirt, the first of the infected fell from the roof of a Buick and landed dead on the pavement. The others continued unabated, pouring over the dead from both sides as the shotgun erupted several more times, joined by revolver shots and the sounds of cars smashing into each other at both ends of the block. Suddenly a stream of smoke arced from the police line and landed between the cars and the coffee shop. The can rattled across the concrete and the rising cloud of teargas soon obscured many of the unperturbed infected.
A megaphone found its way to the front of the line of police. “Attention, this is the police. Stop where you are and get down on the ground.” It was not until the first infected got through the sporadic bullets and reached the cowering crowd that the police opened fire.
Three more cans of teargas landed amid the crowd and many ordinary citizens were now on the ground coughing and clawing at their eyes. Rubber bullets were flying this way at that, directed primarily at the people on top of the cars, but hitting anyone in the way.
Then the army turned its attention to the police line.
Seven minutes after the first riot shield was shattered under the fist of one of the infected, the Special Weapons Assault Team arrived and blocked off the opposite intersection with their vans, setting up positions in neighboring buildings. The chaos which was raging beneath the clouds of teargas between the surviving riot police, SWAT units and nearly invincible infected New Yorkers made the vampire in black sigh with satisfaction. Nothing demonstrated the elegance of his plan better than simple human panic. Nothing would save humanity. He picked up his suitcase and disappeared into the dark of Tim's Coffee Shop.
Niki dropped down into the battle beneath the deck of cloud that threatened to descend and drop anyone without a mask or virus-bourn immunity. Her first instinct was to look for the characteristic vampire or Nosphorus form, but none were to be found. Obviously, she scolded herself; it was still daylight.
Niki was standing by the open door of a taxi when one of the infected grabbed her from behind. It was suddenly clear why the police were so confused. It was human versus human, and with no apparent distinctions, the police were firing rubber bullets and pepper spay at everyone randomly. SWAT was doing much better than the riot police since they had decided to shoot anyone who was not coughing from the teargas. They would soon shift their attention to her, she realized, if she began to display suspicious superhuman strength.
With a jerk of her head, she got the infected man in the face and grabbed him by the shoulder, intent on hurling him to the ground. Instead, she gave him a jab to the gut and twisted to face him. Then she frowned.
Aside from the white eyes and the expression of a sleepwalker, she noticed something else that shouldn’t be there. A small red dot dancing over the infected man’s cheek, slowly making it’s way over to his temple.
Niki backpedaled in time to avoid the spray as the sniper’s bullet tore through the man’s skull and he jerked to one side, then fell to the asphalt.
“Shit!” the Slayer shouted, ducking to the ground and crouching near the driver’s door of the abandoned taxi cab. With snipers invisible above the clouds slowly dissipating between the sheer buildings on both sides of the street, the war zone was more dangerous than she had thought.
Just as she was thinking of making a hasty retreat, the windows of the cab exploded outwards with the force of the body hitting its roof. Having fallen from six storeys, the sniper made a terrific dent in the metal, his rifle shattering on the nearby sidewalk. Glass from the window out of which he had been thrown rained down around the car. Seconds later, another body came sailing down out of the deck of cloud.
Niki looked down at her black leather jacket and the blood already covering her sleeves. The snarl made her look up and she was already on her feet as the infected crossing guard set eyes on her. With a wide kick, she caught him in the jaw but he seemed as though he hadn’t felt it. With an iron grip, he grabbed her shoulders and threw her against the wrecked taxi.
A riot police officer ploughed into him, shield first, his club bashing the infected man repeatedly, forcing him to the ground. Only when the crossing guard had stopped moving did the police officer turn his attention to Niki who was still staring intently at the fallen enemy.
“Miss,” the cop yelled over the tumult of the battle behind him. “Miss, get behind the police line! Miss!”
Niki looked up into the masked face of the officer just as the crossing guard’s hand lashed out and caught his ankle, pulling him to the ground. In a heartbeat, Niki delivered a brutal kick across the infected man’s face, snapping his head to the side. He didn’t move after that.
She helped the officer to his feet and decided it was time to leave. As she moved behind the line of riot shields, her hands in the air, she heard the tat-tat-tat of automatic weapons firing live ammunition into the crowds.
“Violence erupted today as police battled civilians in the streets in front of Tim’s Coffee Shop. The Chief of Police refused to comment, but reportedly called this an incident of drug related gang violence...” the anchor shuffled the papers on her desk next to the televison screen showing clouds of tear gas and running bystanders. “There’s no official report yet on the number of casualties, but we’re told it could be anywhere from five to fifty– yes, that’s right, as many as fifty civilians and police officers killed on the streets of New York City. In this unprecedented spike of drug related gang violence, the Mayor condemns the use of street drugs and the effects they have on city youth. Indeed, statistics show that drugs–” The television snapped off as Addison made his way from the cramped living room to the kitchen where Niki sat with a bag of ice on her shoulder.
“What did you learn?” the old Watcher asked, tossing the newspaper onto the kitchen table, covering the various weapons which lay there ready for cleaning. He sat down heavily opposite her, the chair creaking as he felt his bones were also.
The Slayer sighed. “All we need to know.” Addison nodded slowly. He drew a short sword from beneath the grim headlines and ran his finger tips along it critically.
“They are vulnerable?” He asked, eyeing the blade. Niki slapped the perspiring bag of ice onto the other blades on the table.
“Only to lethal force,” she said harshly. “There were no Nosphorus in the battle - which means they’re still vulnerable to sunlight. The infected humans were resistant to teargas and pepper spray, which means something has changed since the last time we fought them.”
Addison nodded, setting the blade back on the table. “Yes, the last time we fought them, they were vulnerable to the nitrous oxide that Pearce used on them.”
“If that’s changed, then the virus has changed.” Niki moved her shoulder, feeling her strength returning. “Which means the Creep has the book and can modify his Nosphorus as he needs to.”
“Then we must be careful not to reveal any advantages we have until we’re certain we can win.” The old Brit stood and began to pace, his hands clasped behind his back. He stopped mid stride. “I believe I shall call up Lieutenant Keller–” Addison turned to the Slayer, “he heads a small government funded military unit which the Council sometimes uses to strike at demon activity abroad.”
“This is the first I’ve heard of it,” she said with a trace of resentment.
“In... the past,” Addison said with a frown, “we have had to do without a Slayer for often extended periods of time. We felt it was in everyone’s interests if we have all of our bases covered.”
“And you think this unit would be useful?”
The Watcher was slow to nod. “They have some experience combating the supernatural and do not hesitate to use lethal force.”
Niki took in a deep breath. “We’ll need everything we can get.” Swallowing, she stood and drew the newspaper from beneath the ice and steel. War Zone in Downtown New York “This was a message,” she said, eyeing the graphic image captured of the battle. “A message to me. Night or day, he can attack anywhere, anytime he wants.”
Addison reluctantly acknowledged and took the paper from Niki’s hands. “What’s he waiting for?”
The Slayer slowly let out a breath. “I don’t know.”
Logan pushed past the British and tourists alike all dispersing from the terminal into the night to various cars and busses outside the airport. Just as he was raising his hand to hail a cab, a black car pulled up and the passenger door opened.
A suited man approached him and glanced at his suitcase. “Excuse me, sir, I believe we’re here to pick you up.”
Logan frowned and took a step back, reaching into his jacket for the wooden stake he carried. “Doubtful,” he said harshly.
“You’re in from New York?” the suited man asked, eying the hand Logan held in his jacket.
“Maybe,” Logan said angrily as the suited figure picked up his suitcase. “Hey, why don’t you back off?”
“I’d love to, sir,” the man said, taking the suitcase to the rear of the car. “But I have orders to take you to a hotel before your meeting with the Council.” The man popped the boot of the car and carefully laid the suitcase therein.
Logan’s hand left his jacket and he relaxed. “The Council sent you?”
The man stopped. “Of course not,” he said with a frown. “I have no idea what Council we’re talking about. I just have my orders.” Not waiting for a response, he closed the boot and opened the car’s rear door. “You’re expected at the hotel. We best not be late.”
Logan resumed his frown but got in the back seat. He was confident of his ability to defend himself against two of the infected, if that’s what they were. The car door closed and the suited man took his seat again. The car sped off and made its way towards the heart of London.
When it got to the hotel, Logan was escorted up to his room with the suited man carrying his suitcase all the way. The room had been reserved, he learned, for the past week and there had always been a car waiting at the airport.
The man in the suit set the suitcase by the bed and turned to go. At the door, he stopped. “The car,” he said simply, “will be waiting for when you need it.”
Logan opened his mouth to answer, but something caught his attention. He slowly took off his jacket and tossed it on the bed, retrieving from the pillow a small note, folded once in half.
To whomsoever may read this: The Council is infected and cannot be trusted.
Use extreme caution.
-R
Logan recognized it as the same handwriting as the message they had received several weeks ago. Whoever this R was, he or she seemed to know more about what was going on than they did. Despite the risk, it was obvious that R wanted him to pay the Council a visit, hence the car that was waiting outside.
Logan dropped the note and grabbed his jacket again. He raced out the door and down to the lobby just as the suited man was getting back in the car. He let out a small laugh.
With a crash, the Nosphorus was thrown through the double doors into the main Council chamber where the Council members were in session. The rat-like creature which had been guarding the proceedings was dust before it struck the Council table.
All heads turned as the doors opened again, admitting a strutting man in a black turtleneck. Logan interlaced his fingers and extended his arms, cracking his knuckles with a satisfied sigh. As the Council members stood, their eyes fading to white, electricity erupted between Logan’s fingers. “I’ve wanted to do this for years.”
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