New Reign - Act 5
The last rays of the spring sun drew reluctantly back behind the horizon, surrendering New York City to night and fate.
Gentle smells and sounds caught in the breeze greeted the simple business man standing under the overpass. The light traffic of the Nassau Expressway hummed above him. He gripped the handle of the briefcase tightly. Anticipation was thrumming through him. Tonight was the night. The New Reign was soon be here. Stepping forward, he heard the resonating thud as every member of his massive army stepped in unison with him. Looking up Van Wyck, he saw his immediate destination. North Conduit Avenue crossed their path.
To the East, it ran into suburban Queens and the millions of humans, perhaps settling down for dinner, who were unknowingly awaiting the New Reign.
To the West, it ran into Brooklyn and the army waiting there for them. The suited figure was well aware of the assembling force which meant to crush him. Led by the Slayer. Augmented by paramilitary forces. Protected from infection by magic. Laced with operatives. The man in the suit let the smile spread across his face. The confidence of the Slayer and her army was founded on one simple premise: surprise. They were betting he didn’t know about them... or at least, underestimated them. They were betting he didn’t know about the magic, the commandos or the white powder. But he knew. Not only had Victoria disclosed all he needed to know before she was purged, but his operatives inside the army itself were relaying with their very eyes and ears the necessary information. Granted, the operatives were not great warriors, and so had no idea what was relevant information and what was useless – but that in itself was irrelevant. He was as adept a tactician as the world had seen in centuries. His interpretation of the strategies and plans of the Slayer left no room for their victory. The New Reign was virtually certain.
West it was. The grin didn’t diminish as he considered that the reason the Slayer was waiting for him was because she knew he knew she was waiting. Since he knew this information, it became irrelevant. He had studied any advantages inherent in her position: six kilometers West of his current location, and had decided they were negligible.
Again he praised his ancestors and the brilliance of ancient wisdom. The tactics of the Macedonians were timeless. The group of witch doctors, of which he had been apart, had studied the brilliant military might of the Greeks and had concluded that with current Macedonian technology and manpower, victory was impossible. The Greek gods were strong and fierce to defend their cities and the phalanx was as yet impenetrable. Then the inspiration had come. Rats could carry bubonic plague into a city undetected and without warning an outbreak could devastate a population. Surely larger, fiercer rats could do even worse... And the Nosphorus were born.
In the olden days, a single Nosphorus or two could bring down a city’s guard and garrison it all at once. Now, two hundred and eighty ravenous Nosphorus stood at the heels of over three thousand infected humans, white eyed and blank faced. At a single thought, however, they would transform from the dull, listless ghosts into slavering animals with the strength of six men. Their captains, some still rat-like and some appearing as conventional vampires, were more powerful still. In terms of the manner of battle in ages past, this army was equal to one of twenty three thousand. No rabble of random demons could stop them. No Slayer could stop them.
“Forward,” the Creep said quietly, his army stepping forward as fast as the thought occurred to him. Marching like soldiers on parade, but parading for no one, the vast army started forward to an inhuman rhythm of feet pounding in perfect unison. The Creep walked at their head, leading the solid mass of marching death. “Perfection,” he murmured with a simple smile. The Old Ones would be pleased.
Niki shuddered. What a mess. At last count there was just under two thousand demons and vampires. They were standing about in no particular order between North and South Conduit Avenues, just behind Glenmore. Facing East, the corridor created by the Conduit Avenues led more or less six straight kilometers to the advancing army. It was still out of sight and light was rapidly fading. Behind them, a few hundred meters, Atlantic Avenue had their backs.
The Slayer swallowed and looked sidelong across the front line. At least it maintained some semblance of order. The entirety of Keller’s paramilitary organization had been assembled, numbering over one hundred - armed with submachine guns and assault rifles. They all had standing orders to shoot to kill, even considering the human infected could still be cured. There was enough provision made to ensure as many people survived as possible, but the enemy couldn’t be allowed to see that.
Keller had set up road blocks and pylons to keep traffic from entering the surrounding streets and his contacts had ensured the police would not be informed. Over two dozen sharp shooters were positioned far behind them in the buildings and on the rooftops surrounding the intersection with Atlantic, ready for the inevitable retreat of the main army.
The vampires were assembled behind the line of guns, clustering naturally into their own divisions. The Goths had taken the Northern end of the line, slinking in and out of the deeper shadows cast by the buildings, making it difficult to count their numbers accurately.
The East River gang had centered themselves along the line and looked to be itching for a fight. Many of them were Nail Biter regulars and Niki recognized one called Hauser. Next to them were the Lower Manhattan crew - slightly aristocratic and appearing to have something entirely better to do with their time than stand around waiting for death.
The Southern line was made up of a collection of small vampire gangs from the Bronx and around New Jersey. They seemed eager for a chance to fight... anything. They, along with several other gangs, had supplied their own weapons, ranging from shotguns and knives to actual grenades.
The demons were wandering in and out of the other ranks, tending to stand alone where they could, picking fights with the vampires where they couldn’t. Somewhere, though no one seemed to be able to spot it, was the chameleon demon that Addison had recruited, which was only interested in getting its knife back.
Keller noticed her discomfort and touched her elbow. “Everything will be ready. Don’t worry about that.”
“What’s the word on the power transformers?” she asked, never looking him in the eyes.
“They’re hooked up and ready to go,” he answered reassuringly. “Only one dance partner missing in this tango.”
Niki nodded and took a deep and cleansing breath. Despite the mess they found themselves in, she had never felt more like a Slayer than she did today. With Addison and Logan on her left and Keller and Whistler on her right, she had never been more alive and at the same time terrified than at every moment which passed since the sunset. The high was unique because unlike the normal thrill of slaying on Stuff, this could be their complete and utter end. It was like the kind of dream that shoved her through time: warping her perceptions to bring the edge closer and closer before she was ready, before it could realistically be possible. It seemed like only seconds ago that they were beginning the trek from Manhattan, hoping, praying that the army in hiding was advancing with them, through the sewers and subways.
It seemed like only yesterday that she had awoken from the Cure Table, driving a shard of wood through the last silver S in KISS. Dusting him.
“Pearce would have loved this,” Niki muttered wryly, the surreal dream feeling fading. If there was one thing that could ground her it was the thought of the annoying, often pathetic Little Vampire Who Couldn’t.
“For Pearce, then,” Logan offered, cracking his knuckles hard into his palms. His face was nearly invisible in the dim light of the late evening but the intensity of his eyes couldn’t be hidden by darkness. They were almost glowing.
Addison cocked his old shotgun as loudly and ferociously as he could. With a belt arrayed with stakes and his short sword he knew there was little chance of him coming through this alive. His one consolation was that when the Council awoke and fond themselves strapped to torture tables, he himself would not be around for demotion.
Keller and Whistler were quiet, peering into the distance where motion could just be detected. It was nearly ten minutes before Niki could convince herself that she wasn’t dreaming – that the ground was actually trembling like the pounding of her own heart. The opposing army was definitely coming. The perfect army.
“Oh shit,” Logan swore with annoyance, dropping his gun and jumping out of line. He began to pat down his own pockets, searching frantically and finally finding something in the back pocket of his jeans. He sighed with relief.
“What?” Niki demanded nervously, frowning at him along with the other three.
Logan stepped toward her and smiled an honest and warmhearted smile. “If we’re going to die... then there’s something I have to give you.” Niki’s frown deepened and her lips pursed as he drew something from his back pocket that she couldn’t see in the deepening darkness. She felt him place it in her hand and suddenly Keller’s small flashlight clicked on.
Niki gazed down at the small piece of paper in the palm of her hand as Logan collected his gun and stepped back into line. With infinite slowness and a pounding heart, Niki unfolded the small note.
Knicks, good luck with your drumming career.
Sorry your band landed on tough times:
Hang in there.
-Joey Ramone
The Slayer blinked. The paper felt weightless in her hands. Joey Ramone’s autograph!! her brain screamed at her. The giddiness bubbled up inside her and she laughed out loud: pure and childish. The laughter continued as the approaching army came into sight, marching with complete and horrible synchroneity. The ground thundered and Niki laughed, tears filling her eyes.
Then with a snap she folded the paper and tucked it lovingly into the inside pocket of her worn leather jacket. Her hand closed around the simple wooden stake which was all she carried. The smile remained, touching her eyes as the army came within forty feet and stopped.
The Slayer couldn’t rid herself of the pesky smile as she looked the enemy’s ranks in the eye, uncountable white-eyed people, dotted with hundreds of vampire and Nosphorus faces. The army swept back into the blackness of the night and its rearmost ranks couldn’t be seen. As far as she knew, it went back forever.
With her newfound amusement, she pulled the radio from Keller’s belt and clicked the talk button. “Do it.”
Positioned among the trees of the center median between the North and South Conduit Avenues, and all amongst the buildings flanking the defending army, floodlights had been placed and hooked up to local power transformers.
At the signal, all the lights burst on, turning night into day. There was an initial buzzing as the filaments heated up, a sudden roaring as most of both armies snarled and cringed in the harsh light and a vicious blaze of gunfire from the front line commandos which cut the cringing infected to pieces.
Someone at the South end of the line had the sense to throw a grenade into the enemy ranks, throwing bodies and body parts from its blast radius deep in the dense enemy army.
Niki had just caught sight of a figure standing ahead of the lines of blank faced people when the lights and gunfire did their job and nearly blinded her. The smoke that in the roaring ocean of bullets was drifting downwind towards the enemy showed the red tracer lasers which crisscrossed the divide between an evil army and an even more evil army. Soon the smoke obscured the enemy completely and Niki lifted the radio to her lips, having to shout the cease fire. The white cloud, lit from their side by banks of lights, hung like a curtain where the man in the black suit had brought his army.
Niki stared hard into the bright cloud, searching for any sign of movement. Then her eyes scanned upward and found the eddies of motion. A figure leapt from the cloud straight at them.
“Watch out,” Keller said sternly, lifting his gun and driving several rounds into it - knocking it from its trajectory before it hit the ground. They all stepped out of the way as it crunched into the soft earth.
Niki jammed her heel into the back of its neck and drove her stake through its back, not satisfied until it dissolved beneath her boot. Looking back East, the cloud began to swirl and churn with motion. She raised the radio to her lips again. “Move in.” Turning around, she glanced at the members of the vampire gangs behind her. “Move in,” she called. Before she had finished the order, they had sprung into a frenzy of activity.
Members of the front line gave the same order to the vampires behind them. A snarling, terrifying wall of game faced vampires charged past the front line, shoving aside the men with guns and falling through the smoke to meet the hidden army there. The first wave of more than one hundred and fifty disappeared behind the curtain and it swirled closed behind them.
Almost instantly, Niki’s stomach turned. Something was sickening wrong with the silence. Not a snarl or a scream. Then she felt it. The cool breeze tossed her dirty blonde hair across her face. The curtain drew back and, like a machine, the army marched out. Not a trace of the vampires could be seen.
Niki’s fist shook as it gripped the stake. She could no longer see the man in the black suit and the front line was looking quite rattled. With a snarl on her lips, she shoved the radio into Keller’s hand and charged. Logan was after her in a heartbeat and Addison and Whistler followed.
Keller lifted his gun and fired off several rounds to either side of them. Lifting the radio he shouted over the sudden noise. “Fire at will!”
Niki felt the noise before she heard it. Her feet pounding as fast as they would carry her, her eyes were locked on the infected person straight ahead of her. A wave like bad breath washed over her as the person toward whom she ran, and all those on both sides, opened their mouths and howled. Transforming from blank faced zombies to feral animals, they charged towards the front line and the bullets beginning to fly from it.
The second wave of vampires jumped over the front lines into the infected ranks as the men with guns were forced to fight hand to hand. As the roar of battle grew, the gunfire tapered off, occurring now in spurts and followed by screams.
With a loud explosion, one of the floodlight stands crashed into the ground as the battle spilled behind the front line. The main penetration was just North of the center median, tearing through the ranks and allowing the rearguard of Nosphorus to march up North Conduit. Further to the South, the front was actually pinwheeling the enemy back towards the East.
Niki landed hard on the infected, toppling him back into the others. Snarling and foaming, the man charged, his eyes snapping wide open as the stake skillfully slid between his ribs and out again. Niki spun and jabbed left and right, dropping the infected one after another as they emerged from the still marching horde. She dashed up onto the small pile of bodies and launched herself into the air towards the nearest Nosphorus who was driving the tide of infected. She landed on top of him with her stake in his throat, then found him rolling her onto her back. With his mouth open, his jaw locked her stake in place and she was forced to use her bare hands. He bent down to bite her with rat-like teeth, saliva dribbling down to her disgusted face.
With a powerful knee to the thigh, she sent him toppling off of her. Back on her feet, she grabbed the infected who came at her and used his momentum to drive him into the second who was attempting the same from the other side. As the Nosphorus rose to his face, Niki crouched low. With blood pouring down his neck he hissed and sent a spray of blood towards her. She closed her mouth, forcing her breathing to slow, to avoid getting any of his diseased blood in her system. With a kick like lightning, she drove her toe into the butt of the stake under his chin, rocketing it out the back of his skull and dropping him to the ground. She was pulled to the ground by three infected who piled on top of her.
Nearby, Logan clutched the face of one of the feral soldiers. With a hissing scream, his hands sent frost across the old man’s face, freezing his mouth and eyes wide open and turning his lips blue. Before he could drop the corpse, rough hands seized his shoulders, pulling back as they touched the conjurer’s burning skin. The man in the eternally black turtleneck turned on his attacker and caught him in the chin with his fist. The soldiers screamed and fell to the ground as his face burst into flames. Meanwhile, Logan drove his elbow into another soldier’s gut, flinging him back with the supernatural force.
His heart was pounding faster than he could perceive and his movements seemed to be guided by nothing short of divine cognizance. Each stroke used the least physical energy and struck with the perfect killing force. He didn’t rest until he was knee deep in writhing or still bodies, the ranks around him pulling back and thinning - preferring to advance in more favorable directions.
Addison collapsed as fists pounded into his back. His shotgun blasted away until all the cartridges were spent and he found himself at the bottom of a clawing biting pile of wounded feral soldiers. With no room to draw his sword, he waited with failing breath for the terrible end to come.
Niki flinched as the roar of a machine gun filled her ears. The bodies on top of her quivered and arched, eventually becoming limp. A hand found hers and she was surprised to find Keller in the thick of the turning tide. He gave a small smile and nod, then turned and sent thirty rounds into the retreating line.
Though they had pushed back the enemy here in the South, primarily because of the Nosphorus they had killed, it was clear the North was not faring as well. Keller’s commandos were all but extinct and the Goths were finding themselves overwhelmed by the tide of hissing and screaming infected who were pouring down North Conduit towards them. With a clatter, another one of the light stands was toppled, relinquishing more of the battle to darkness.
Niki grabbed Keller’s belt and drew him towards her. Before he could say anything, she grabbed the radio from its holster and clicked the talk button. “General retreat,” she called as loud as she could. “Fall back to Atlantic!” Slapping the device back into the frowning man’s hand, she dashed towards where she had last seen Logan.
With a flash of light and a seismic tremor, Niki found him at the center of a ring of charred bodies. His face was pallid and he was gasping for breath. She stuck her arm under his and shouldered as much of his weight as she could without actually carrying him. Together they ran West towards the last of the lights and the safety that Atlantic Avenue promised, hopping and stumbling over the bodies of the dead and dying infected, the dead and dying demons and the maimed vampires.
At the sound of a ferocious shout, Niki took Logan and herself to the ground. Diego charged past them, his scimitar high above his head. There were hissing screams as he began to hack his way as far into the army as he could.
“Come on!” Whistler shouted to the Slayer, motioning them to get up. She lifted Logan to his feet and he found he was able to run on his own again. They ran to Whistler as a torso flew past them, striking the base of one of the light posts, bringing it down across their path. They jumped over it like a hurdle and Whistler came in beside them, handing the Slayer her short sword. There was nothing but bodies around them now. The battle had moved to the North front and was rapidly following the retreat towards Atlantic.
The field widened to their left as it opened into a sort of small park and there was a copse of trees before the road. Niki indicated the cover and Logan nodded, scooping up an assault rifle as they approached the rear of the retreating Southern line.
In the cover of the trees, Niki was able to calm her breathing and finally let out a sadistic laugh. Here at Atlantic the trap was set. Here was where everything would play out– the grin was forgotten in an instant as Niki spotted her target again.
The man in the black suit stood next to his briefcase, slicing through the air with the curved copper blade that had been stolen from Niki’s apartment. The Creep was low in stance and blindingly fast with each stroke, doing nothing but barely drawing blood from each vamp who charged him – hoping, no doubt, to infect them later and increase his army.
The big demon from the Nail Biter who had been the first to enlist grabbed the Creep in a bear hug from behind, growling as he tried to crush the suited figure with pure strength. Niki stayed in the trees to watch, Whistler’s hand on her arm to keep her from running out too early.
In what seemed to be an affront to simple physics, the smaller, slimmer vampire took the titan of a demon by the shoulders and hurled him over his head, breaking the embrace. The demon crashed into the pavement of Atlantic Avenue. Niki launched herself forward, sword in hand. The Creep caught sight of her and readied himself for battle.
Niki quickened her pace to cover the hundred feet between them before he pulled another disappearing act. One thing that was bothering her was the cloud of smoke which persisted in trying to conceal him...
A scaled hand came down on her shoulder and shoved her forward off balance. She hit the grass with a grunt and she felt the foot of a slim creature press into the small of her back as it raced past her.
Shaking her head, she squinted as the running creature disappeared right in front of her. With the scattering effect like a disco ball, the creature’s scales blended with the dim and desperate surroundings and it was lost from sight in seconds.
The Creep, too, seemed to have momentarily lost sight of the new attacker. With a thud, the chameleon demon landed on the stunned vampire from above, making a nearly invisible grab for the knife. The Creep was reluctant, however, to give up his prize. He struck out with his fist as the face that wasn’t there, jammed an elbow into the ribs that weren’t there and finally jumped to his feet to sweep a large circle with the blade at the demon that wasn’t there.
He turned on Niki with an odd look and appeared to be readying to charge. She raised her sword defensively, then lowered it and took on a puzzled expression.
The Creep turned around in a blur of motion to see a rising cloud of what was now clearly fog and a visual oddity at its center at which the vampire in black immediately lunged. He was slow, or inaccurate, but missed in either case, and the scaly hand took a fistful of his hair, tugging his head back with a hiss. The other scaly hand jammed into the Creep’s lower spine, keeping him at a safe distance.
It was only then that the demon came back into view, making the scene of a backward bent vampire less mind-bending. Shifting red and blue and gold scales gave the wrathful demon the appearance of some Aztec mosaic. With the Creep’s arms flailing about, the knife clutched firmly in one of them, the chameleon had to release his spine to make a grab for it. As soon as he did, Niki could foresee what happened next.
The Creep’s hand came up and caught hold of the scaly thing grabbing his hair. He twisted around in a blur of motion once his back was free and dragged the blade right through the colorful demon’s midsection, slicing him neatly in half. The demon gave a terrible hiss and dissolved to fog, slinking away into the night.
With a satisfied nod, the Creep turned his attentions back to the Slayer. She was no longer where she had been. Turning instinctively to where she now was, the Creep let the blade fly without an instant’s hesitation.
Sparks curved out into the darkness of Atlantic Avenue on either side of Niki’s head as the Blade of Paradise was cleaved perfectly in two by her upturned sword. She was wearing a classically Valtaine smirk.
With a small laugh to acknowledge her skill, he charged. Niki turned away from him to her left and saw what was coming — lunging out of the way just in time.
Logan managed to free himself from Whistler’s restraining grasp and run back out onto the gory field. Here, unlike at the front lines, there was both deeper cover and snipers picking off everything they could that still moved. They were having a harder time of it on the other side of the median.
The entirety of the Nosphorus army had diverted to North Conduit Avenue once they had managed to punch through the front line there. There were only leaderless infected running amok now South of the median and Logan had to shoot frequently into the darkness to hit them.
“Logan!” A voice shouted out of the night. Logan hopped over the downed light stand and came face to face with Keller. He had three commandos still with him and he was looking at his small map under the beam of his small flashlight. “We’re going to come around their flank,” he said as Logan got within earshot. “You and Riddley take out the humans – I’ll aim for the Hostile.” The soldier to whom he spoke nodded and slid a fresh magazine into his machine gun. The light clicked off and the two commandos stood aside as Keller spoke to Logan.
“You’re going at their flank?” Logan said quietly as the lieutenant stashed his map and drew his gun from his back, shrugging off the strap that held it there. “With two men? That’s suicide.”
“We’ve estimated that we’ve dropped their forces to approximately sixty percent of initial. Unless you have some backup on its way,” Keller shook his head, “this battle isn’t looking good.” He dropped the depleted clip from his submachine gun and pulled out a new one. “I figure we can give your main forces some relief by drawing their attention back here. We may be able to convince them that there are more of us left than they thought.”
“How much ammo do you have left?” Logan said rationally.
Keller shrugged and jammed the magazine into place. “What you see is what you get.”
“Sir,” Riddley called, jogging back to the two out of the night. “Wright reports the main force has reached Atlantic Avenue.”
Keller nodded. “Now or never.” He turned to follow Riddley but called over his shoulder. “We could use some more convincing power...”
Logan groaned, rolling his eyes. He set off jogging behind the lieutenant. This is —by far— the worst thing...
The conjurer reached Keller who had already opened fire on the ranks of people swarming at the vampires in retreat. The vampires —mostly Goths in this area— were fighting valiantly. But the numbers of the infected were just too many and even an armed vampire was no match for a Nosphorus.
With now the four of them firing indiscriminately into the battle, many of the Nosphorus began to take notice. They actually managed to drive a wedge between the southernmost flank and the main force, still over a thousand strong. Into the gap, the Goths and other vampires retreated and formed a line behind the four gunmen. There were fewer of them than Logan had imagined and the situation looked grim. While the snipers in the buildings across North Conduit were still firing into the crowd, their effects seemed insignificant now.
The southern group of infected and their Nosphorus were circling around the last of the vampires and were closing in behind the gunmen at the same time that Niki dove to the ground just in time.
With a tremendous roar, the bikers had arrived. Wielding chains, guns, knives and anything else they could get their hands on, they tore down Atlantic by the hundreds, dashing the southern flank to pieces. Their bikes stopped just short of the remaining main force, come to a halt next to the gunmen. The lead biker dismounted, rolled his shoulders back and spit onto the ground. With a glance at the Goths he gave a little chortle. “No fucking wonder you’re losing.” And he charged into the enemy ranks followed by the hundreds of bikers.
There were gunshots and one small explosion along with screams and howls. Logan kept firing as the main force scattered and came their way. The kickback from the gun made his hands numb but he held the trigger until the clip was empty.
Niki rolled out of the road, dropping her sword, as the lines of motorcycles roared past. They were an immovable river driving down Atlantic Avenue. They were too thick and fast to get through and they divided her from her target. The Creep stood on the south side of the roaring river, glaring at her. She was struck by the resemblance he now bore to the horrific figure from her dream —from the dream of paradise she had experienced when on the Table. He was no longer the amusingly backward bent vampire locked in combat with the chameleon: he was dark and sinister. She had the feeling he was something more than a simple vampire. Not different, just more. She shook the feeling as he stood there like a pillar of darkness glaring at her, trying to will her to death.
Niki adopted a sarcastic grin, puckered her lips and feigned blowing him kisses. She could see him fume. In a blur of moving shadow he spanned the river of still flowing bikers in one leap. He landed as if he had just stepped off a curb.
The two began to circle each other, the Slayer moving as cautiously and defensively as she could, the Creep moving like a marionette: with only his legs moving. The rest of his body appeared unnaturally to be motionless as his legs carried him around the circle they made.
“You do impress me, Slayer, I will admit that.” He stalked around the circle as he had in her dream, as if he were just a puppet on a string, enjoying the ride. “This little militia you’ve assembled,” he looked back up the street as the last of the bikers rode north to where the real battle was taking place, “is really quite elegant... in its own way.” She wasn’t going to make a move until he did. She didn’t trust basic physics around this individual. Every way he moved was like a kick in the teeth to rationality.
“It serves to illustrate,” the Creep continued, like a historian on a fixed salary, “how order, throughout recorded and unrecorded history has always triumphed over disorder. The Greeks, the Romans, the British... they all prevailed in traditional warfare because of their unflinching–” he took a step towards her, shrinking the circle, “–unwavering, order. If their order is indestructible, then so are they. So are we.” He took another step forward, but Niki took one back, drawing the circle they danced out onto the street. “Once the deluge is over, the Old Ones will return and the truest, purest order will be resurrected.”
“I think you overestimate your little army,” Niki said, drawing the circle towards a manhole cover. “On a good day, I could probably take them on myself...” she eyed the solid disc of steel at her feet. “It’s just that I have these thousands of demons and vampires...” she shrugged, “and they all want a piece of you.” She drove her fist into the manhole cover, sending it spinning into the air where she grabbed it like a massive frisbee.
The Creep smiled at this. He continued to advance as she continued to retreat. “I think you overestimate yourself.” He reached into his suit coat and pulled from it a small glass vial. His smile widened as Niki obviously recognized it. It was identical in every way... He threw it to her feet where it shattered and the white powder within spread across the pavement like snow. “I knew you wouldn’t be able to resist taking the Stuff before a battle this big.”
“Poison...” Niki said, her stomach turning.
“Not at all,” the Creep assured her. “You’ll survive quite healthily — under my command.” Niki’s jaw tensed. “The Stuff was laced with the very virus you all fear. By now it is lodged itself in your brain and is awaiting my very imminent commands.” He laughed out loud, tracing the Slayer’s steps as she dodged around the circle and came around back to the curb where they had started, but with the Creep now on the street.
Niki held the manhole cover now like a shield, keeping it instinctively between herself and the man in the black suit. Before he could speak a command, she took advantage of his laughter and launched the discus at him with all her might.
The steel caught him in the chest and sent him backwards onto the pavement. He landed hard but was soon on his feet, his amusement gone. “I believe I’ve changed my mind,” he said angrily, holding his ground as she advanced on him. “I had considered giving you the mercy of servitude and letting you see the New Reign, but it’s obvious even your demon heart can’t appreciate that. But you do have one little thing I’d like to add to my collection, so before I have you kill yourself, I’d like that bracelet of your’s... or of Pierce’s I should say.”
Niki glanced down at the silver bracelet which still clung doggedly to her wrist. She looked up and scoffed. “Fuck you.” There was a deadly silence upon the world in the instant that followed. She raised her eyebrows condescendingly and reached into her own jacket. Next to the folded autograph was a small vial. She pulled it out and threw it at the dark figure’s feet. Shattering, it spread its white contents across the dark pavement. “I never took any.”
The Creep looked in confusion at the glass and infected drug at his feet. This was not what was supposed to happen... Victoria—
“Victoria lied,” said a voice behind him. He turned to see the bartender standing on the other side of the street. “Who wouldn’t for candy?” he asked skeptically.
The Creep’s eyes darted back and forth, the strings which had seemed to hold him up were now apparently cut. This wasn’t the way it was supposed to happen.
“I get the feeling,” Niki said, making the vamp in black turn quickly around again, “that you’re going to have some explaining to do to these Old Ones.” Niki was kneeling, reaching for something on the pavement. The vampire’s mind was racing with all manner of alternative ways to win this confrontation: there was certainly no way the Slayer could beat him. It was—
“Look out,” Whistler called from behind him.
His instincts abandoning him, the Creep used all his reflexed and moved like a shadow in smoke. The very instant he began to move, he came to the realization it would be his doom. His eyes locked with those of Whistler who was standing happily on the other side of the street as a decoy. The Creep’s eyes slowly tracked down to the blade which was making its way out through his chest. The length of the sword which was in front of him now meant Niki had impaled him all the way to the hilt. His suit was ruined... He gasped for breath and tried to turn, but felt her hands deliver an irresistible shove. He went to the ground with every intention of getting back up— except there was no ground where he landed.
The vampire in black disappeared down into the darkness of the manhole. Niki quickly grabbed the cover and slid it into place, standing on it for insurance. It wouldn’t take long.
The Creep groaned and looked up from the floor of the sewer. A whisper seemed to come from everywhere around him. His eyes widened.
“It’s a person!” the large thing whispered gleefully. The air around the vampire seemed to get thicker as the things moved closer. “It’s a man person! I love man persons.”
The Creep turned his head in terror as another whisper filled the sewer, the slow slurping of movement echoing from all sides. “Take no chances this time: let’s have its head part.”
Niki was leaning up against a tree when the sun’s first rays peeked over the horizon. She considered playing her favorite game with all the maimed vampires laying here and there on the field and streets, but then thought she’d rather like to sleep instead.
Logan staggered up to her, his face smeared with grime and his hair completely mess up. His turtleneck was torn by something with claws but he looked very much alive. He collapsed next to Niki against the tree as the motorcycles began to roar away to shelter.
“That’s it,” he said with exhaustion. “That’s all of them.” Niki blinked. That was sufficient thanks, she decided. “Your welcome,” Logan laughed, sensing her gratitude, unconscious though it may be.
“Look who I found,” Keller muttered, shuffling backwards over the field towards the trees, dragging something heavy and ungrateful.
“Take your hands off me,” Addison groaned, trying to free himself from the lieutenant’s solid grip. Logan laughed heartily at the sight. Finally Keller had had enough of the Watcher’s squirming and dropped him solidly in the dirt. Addison pulled himself to his feet and walked three paced before slumping down against the tree beside the triumphant, though semi-conscious warriors. “Well done, all,” he nodded sleepily, letting his head loll about a little.
“You,” a voice announced. Keller raised his gun but Niki stopped him, forcing herself to stand and face the figure who marched toward her. It was the leader of the biker gang. Much of his gang had been slaughtered before the army had found itself leaderless and he was here to collect his fee. “I was promised your death if I fought here.” He wiped his muscular arm across his brow and managed to smear blood across his cheek.
“Excuse me,” another voice exclaimed from behind him. All heads turned as the Goth drifted towards them, his white face marked with blood and dirt. He was cleaning his small dagger on his black sleeve and was glaring pointedly at the Slayer. “Promises were made to me as well.”
Niki sighed and looked from one of her slouching friends to the next. She caught sight of Whistler and he tossed her his stake. She held it loosely and turned back to the vampires.
“I don’t know who made promises to you,” she addressed the massive biker, “but I personally made commitments to this guy here,” she indicated the black clad vamp next to him. She turned to the Goth and slumped visibly. “But you know what? I’m a little tuckered out: you do it.” She tossed him the stake and he caught it easily.
The biker growled as she ignored him, stepped closer as Niki slumped down against the tree again. He ignored the Goth who had taken a step back. “My gang can be back here in—”
“I appreciate your gang’s contributions,” Niki said amicably with a shrug. “But a promise is a promise–” the stake poked out through the biker’s chest as the Goth stabbed him in the heart through the back. “And I’m trying to keep my promises these days.” The dust wafted away in the gentle morning wind. Without having to turn her head, Niki now faced the Goth. “You might want to get indoors before that sun gets all visible and incendiary.” The vampire in the black trench coat made a small bow and tossed the stake back to her. As he stalked away, the Slayer couldn't help but be reminded of Pearce and his simple confidences.
As the Goth disappeared, Logan leaned closer with a frown. “That was odd... letting him live.”
Niki closed her eyes with a sigh and a shrug. “My whole life’s odd. And you ain’t exactly Johnny Normal.”
“Hmm,” the conjurer agreed, closing his eyes. After a long moment of silence around the tree against which they all now rested, Logan spoke up. “How long do you figure before the cops show up and we all get hauled off to jail?”
Keller rolled his head to one side. “Five... ten minutes maybe...”
Logan nodded and shifted to get more comfortable as the sun rose above the tops of the buildings. “Wake me before then, okay?”
the end
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