Chronicles of the Avalonverse

Summary: Various forces are set on a collision course in a city known as Sunnydale, and the world will never be the same...

This story is rated for Mature Readers and depicts sexual situations, offensive language and graphic violence.

Buffy the Vampire Slayer: All rights and properties belong to Joss Whedon, Fox Studios and Mutant Enemy, etc.

The Legendary Adventures of Hercules/Xena-Warrior Princess: All rights and properties belong to Renaissance and Flat Earth Productions.

The X-Files: All rights and properties belong to Chris Carter and Fox Studios.

The Mummy/The Mummy Returns: All rights and properties belong to Universal Studios.

Red Sonja/Conan the Barbarian: All rights and properties belong to the successors of the late Robert E. Howard.

Tomb Raider: All rights and properties belong to Eidos Inc. and Crystal Dynamics.

The characters John Roper, Aleksandr Vasilyev, Sadie Wilde, Grimr Steinmoor, Anastasia Provana, Cassidy Williams, Mitchell Sullivan, Diana Lipton, Victoria Swenson, Sergio Dominguez, Christina, Maxine, Natalie, and Scarlet are the property of Charlie Schone.

The characters Cathubodia, Tomas, Nimbus/Jason, Tory Simmons, Marina the Amazon, Ariel and James Merwin, Alana, Reed Duncan, Morgaine Le Fey, Ingrid Sommer, and Patricia Driscoll are the property of Jack Caynon.

Any characters, whose names and descriptions are used, are the property of their original owners, and no copyright infringement is intended or meant.

No money can be made from this story. It may be distributed freely so long as it is kept in its entirety, with all notices and copyright information remaining intact.

In a void between time and space, between worlds and universes, what would have appeared to most mortal eyes as a shimmering star gently descended through the infinite blackness. As it began to collect energy, however, it swirled and coalesced in a wondrous display of cosmic energy, before solidifying into the image of an ethereal, incredibly beautiful woman.

She stood tall, proud, and ancient. Her seductive, dark eyes shimmered like starry points in the night skies of the kingdoms that had worshipped and revered her so long ago. Her perfectly coifed raven hair flowed seductively around her slender yet powerful shoulders, framing an exotic, perfect face that would drive any man or women to sheer lust by simply gazing at her. Her voluptuous, yet powerful and regal frame was encased in a magnificent red velvet dress that accentuated her body, over which hung a perfectly crafted breastplate of gleaming silver that protected her magnificent chest. A great, curved sword hung at one side of her hip, while on the other hung a jeweled scepter that glimmered with power.

Indeed, in her time, she had been loved, feared, and revered by many, but that had been so long ago, at least in the mortal sense of time. Time itself meant little to such a being as she…at least until now.

Soon, what appeared to be another star gently alighted by the side of the ancient goddess, before it too began to shimmer and coalesce, transforming into the image of another woman who was just as exotic and beautiful as the first. She too, bore the same enigmatic, yet beautiful shimmering eyes coupled with exquisite locks of raven hair that fell around a regal, yet alluring face. She wore a golden, horned tiara that had at the center a shimmering crystal that pulsated with energy. Her slender, equally voluptuous frame was encased in a white silk dress that was embroidered with gold lace and twinkling gems.

“Inanna…mother,” the ethereal creature spoke as a greeting, in a quiet tone. Like her mother, she too had been loved, worshipped, revered and feared long ago. And like her mother, few mortals worshipped her nowadays. Now, like her mother and her own revered daughters, they were mostly regarded merely as creatures of myths and legends.

“Thank you for coming, daughter. I know much rests upon your shoulders this night. Truly, the times are now changing…even for beings such as ourselves.”

“I know, mother,” the ancient Egyptian Goddess of Nature and Magic replied softly, as she regarded the being whom the Sumerians had long ago worshipped as the Goddess of Love and War. “This universe, these mortals…I have watched them throughout the eons, listened to them, aided them, loved them, cursed them and stricken them. But now…”

Inanna sighed and finished her scion’s thought. “I know. It almost seems as if their world has forgotten us now. But perhaps with the advent of our Chosen, that will change, once more.”

“True enough, mother, change is always necessary to the universe, and exists in the end for the good of all. And yet, after all these eons, I…I cannot help but feel something that would seem so alien to beings such as we, and yet…”

The air within the void was deathly still for a moment, as the Egyptian Goddess appeared to be deep in thought, before quietly nodding. “Yes, I believe that is what the mortals call it.”

The Sumerian Goddess sighed once more. “That is indeed an emotion we rarely feel, and yet, I fear I must admit, I experience it as well.” Isis glanced at the deity with a look of surprise as Inanna went on, unfettered. “As do all your daughters, I suspect.”

“Indeed, I’m afraid. But they know this is necessary, and time is now of the essence. Even as we speak, there are various forces moving against our Chosen…and us.”

The Goddess of Love and War pursed her lips in a grim, yet determined line as she poised for the struggle ahead. “Then let us tarry no longer; summon your daughters, my child…we begin tonight.”

Isis nodded as she raised her arms, a glowing halo of energy that illuminated her slender form, growing in power, before it subsided into several orbs of light that floated around the forms of the two goddesses, before they materialized into feminine shapes of their own.

Life, as some mortals and other denizens of this particular world knew it, was about to change...

The air was chilly and calm; it allowed the full moon to cast its light down through a swath of clouds upon a long stretch of rolling hills, rocky cliffs, and sandy beaches that lay along the western coast of the

United States

. U.S. Route 101, one of the main highways that connected the major and minor cities of California, snaked along the coastline like a femoral artery, pumping an endless stream of people and machines both north and south. On one of several exits that turned off from the historical route, a single large wagon-top Hummer, its obsidian coat gleaming in the moonlight, roared down the exit ramp before finally merging onto another road. Its headlights brightened the road ahead and soon, a large billboard sign appeared in the distance, illuminated by overhead yellow sodium lamps. Then the Hummer slowly decelerated before finally swerving to the side of the road, crunching gravel underfoot before it came to a halt several meters in front of the brightly painted, yet weathered sign that read, in big bold letters:

The driver behind the wheel, John Roper, glared at the billboard and sighed, his hands wearily coming to rest in his lap as he stretched out a kink in his neck. He still struggled with a hapless battle of fighting off several hours of jet lag, not to mention the last several hours he’d spent driving from Los Angeles International Airport to this place. He’d hoped that he would’ve been able to at least avoid the traffic congestion getting out of LA, but that hadn’t been the case. He’d considered using the arsenal he had secretly stowed aboard the Hummer innumerable times just to get through all the insane traffic in L.A. The only thing that had stopped him was his healthy respect for the wrath he would’ve incurred from his “boss,” Catherine. Although he’d fought in innumerable conflicts in the Twentieth Century, large and small, in addition to facing all sorts of, for lack of a better word, things that would’ve given the Average Joe nightmares, the last thing he ever wanted to face was an incensed Dopkalfar demi-goddess. John shook his head and chuckled. Right now he was just looking forward to crashing in the nearest motel once he got into town…until he chided himself. He couldn’t afford to ever lower his guard, especially with everything he’d heard about this particular place.

He reached for a cup of coffee from the nearby cup holder and sipped, then grimaced at how cold it’d become. Setting it down, he brought his intense dark blue eyes to gaze back at him in the rear view mirror, before bringing up his hand to gently finger several talismans that hung over it: A silver pentagram, a sigil set into an iron medallion, and a gold-capped glass vial filled with oil and various herbs. He then proceeded to open the car door and ease out of the leather seat, letting the cool air caress his face. His hand reached up to absently finger the stubble that had grown on his chin as he peered into the Hummer’s mirror on the driver’s side, his breath coming out in a misty vapor that curled up and disappeared into the February night sky. An angular, square-jawed man with a close cut of gray hair stared back at him. While the guy’s face was handsome, the man in the mirror desperately needed a shower, shave and rest, in that order. His eyes though, were his most striking feature. They radiated the sense of a man that had been on a long road. In fact, they looked like they should have been on the face of a man that was older than he appeared. Far older, in fact…

John took a moment to stretch his neck to one side, working out another kink before he shut the door and leaned against it, allowing his muscular yet tired body to stretch out from the trip. After a moment, the man withdrew a finely-rolled Dominican cigar from inside his duster and lit it with a match. He then tossed away the match before he reached inside his jacket and drew out a small metal flask of Tennessee whiskey, which was one of the FEW good things born in Dixie as far as he was concerned. Uncorking it, he took a sip and felt the liquid fire run smoothly down his throat before he corked it again. He then took a long, slow drag on the cigar as his eyes scanned the darkened landscape before him.

“It’s not the West that it used to be….not anymore,” he spoke quietly in a deep, slightly raspy voice.

As he took another puff from his cigar, he watched a long semi-trailer truck zoom by. Long before there were skyscrapers, airports, highways, or even planes and automobiles for that matter, he’d been out here when it’d been known simply as ‘the frontier’. Nowadays they referred to that bygone era as ‘the Old West.’ It had once been a vast stretch of landscape that had been a wild, untamed land that had held both promises and curses for all those brave and/or foolish enough to venture to it. Miners, murderers, settlers, gunslingers, ranchers, prostitutes, railroad barons, and all other sorts of adventurers and ne’er-do-wells had come to the West to claim whatever fortune or misfortune the frontier had to offer. John had been one of those, hoofing it on his trusty steed and on the run from all sorts of trouble, with only a few others for company, Cristina among them…

He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to blot her from his memory. That’s all she was now, along with the frontier itself and all the fools that had populated it. It didn’t exist anymore, and neither did the cowboys. He would have known, since he’d once worn the hat and spurs himself, but that was a long time ago.

After taking another puff from his cigar, he figured that it was probably time to hit the road, until he saw a police cruiser with local markings roll by. He didn’t think anything about it at first...until he saw it pull to the side and do a complete U-turn before heading back his way.

Probably just heading back into town, he told himself, until the cruiser’s red and blue lights lit up as it slowed toward his Hummer. “Goddamitt,” he muttered in disgust as he quickly got inside the Hummer and waited for the cops to inevitably appear. He spied the cruiser in his side mirror as it slowed to a halt behind the Hummer and sat there for several minutes.

“Take your sweet-ass time,” he muttered disgustedly. For all he knew, or hoped for anyway, this was just the local boys doing a check, but he didn’t live so long by taking unnecessary chances. He felt the hilt of his schweizersabel saber hidden in a special scabbard down at the right side of his seat, before proceeding to click off the safety and undo the retention strap on the customized Springfield Armory M1911A1 pistol that was tucked away in a shoulder rig. Soon, two cops, one male and one female, exited the car and switched on their flashlights as they ambled toward the vehicle. The male looked over the vehicle with his flashlight before panning it to the driver’s window where he proceeded to tap on the glass.

John lowered the power window and looked at the rather stern-looking cop whose features were not entirely distinguishable in the darkness. Much to John’s annoyance, the officer shone the flashlight in his face. He glanced out of the corner of his eye and noticed his female partner standing on the other side of his vehicle next to the passenger door, also watching him. “Evening,” John replied casually.

“License and registration, please,” the male officer spoke in a calm, neutral tone.

John reached over and opened the glove compartment, noticing that the two officers were carefully watching him. It didn’t take a Newton to guess they had their free hands on their holstered pistols, ready to draw. He felt his fingers brush against the spare GLOCK 19 pistol hidden within before coming up with a set of vehicle registration papers and a driver’s license, which he handed to the officer.

“Saw you stopped by the road here. Is there a problem?” The officer inquired casually as he inspected the papers.

“Uh-huh,” the cop replied as he continued to peruse the papers. “So, Mister…Daniel Boone, might I ask what brings you from Los Angeles up here to Sunnydale?”

“Hunting, huh?” The officer studied the vehicle’s decals and license plate for a moment before handing them back to the driver. Meanwhile, his partner panned her own flashlight over the Hummer, trying to look through the vehicle’s tinted rear cab windows.

“Lot of cargo space on this rig,” the female observed. “What’ve you got in the back?”

The female officer coolly regarded the driver. “Really? So, where were you planning to hunt then?”

John’s stoic expression didn’t change. “The Sunnydale National Forest. I’m assuming you’re finished, and if so, I’d like to go now and find the nearest motel and—“

John coolly regarded the cop, while inwardly he was starting to get just a little pissed off. “I’ve had ONE sip.”

The officer’s eyes narrowed. “Please step out of the car, sir…now.” He backed away from the car with his free hand resting on the butt of his pistol, while his female partner did likewise.

John sighed in annoyance. “Suit yourself,” he muttered. He then craned his neck a bit and glared at the cop. “I was gonna say though, it’s a pretty chilly night.”

“My point IS,” John continued, his eyes narrowing, “it doesn’t seem all that chilly to the two of you, seeing as I don’t see your breath or anything. But I guess that’s because your kind don’t need to breathe in the first place.”

In a split second both cops’ facial features changed in a heartbeat, from something that appeared rather mundane and human into something…inhuman. The pupils in their eyes shrunk as they took on a malevolent golden color, the eyebrows recessed into ridges and a set of large fangs instantly protruded from their mouths. Within another split second the male thing reached for John’s throat with a large, powerful hand while his partner grabbed the door handle on the passenger side to open it.

John instantly pressed a button on his steering wheel, activating an electrical charge that sent one hundred thousand volts racing through the car door handle that the female thing had clutched, surging through her with such force that she shuddered violently under the onslaught. The driver then slammed open the car door into the male thing and threw him off momentarily. John quickly jumped out and drew the M1911A1 pistol from its holster, however the thing had already recovered and growled before striking John in the arm and sending his pistol to the ground. The thing then clamped its powerful fingers around the man’s throat and throttled him up against the Hummer with the creature’s fangs protruding menacingly in the frosty night air.

“Guess I’ll just have you all to myself,” the thing hissed, grinning. “I was gonna share you with my friend, but you know what they say, first come, first served…”

“Shouldn’t yap so much,” John growled, as he produced a hidden silver wrist dagger with runes etched into the width of the blade and stabbed it into the thing’s arm, causing it to howl in pain. The thing’s flesh bubbled and hissed around the wound before the vampire released John and tried to wrench the blade free. The Immortal quickly raised and smashed his right foot into the thing’s knee causing the creature to stumble and fall, allowing him to quickly recover the pistol and thumb on the tactical UV light and laser spotter combination mounted underneath the gun’s barrel. The thing hissed as the ultraviolet light shone upon its face, blinding it and causing its skin to blister and burn. John then fired a double tap, sending two steel-jacketed, silver-core .45 caliber “Silver Talon” rounds into its heart, causing it to scream in fury before it disintegrated into dust. With one of the creatures destroyed, John turned his attention to the other one…

The she-creature had been momentarily knocked aside by the massive electrical charge that would have incapacitated a normal human. However, she had seemingly recovered within a few seconds. Shaking her head and growling like an animal, she then spied what had happened to her mate and her eyes opened wide. Deciding on a different course of action, the creature sped toward the police car.

John quickly fired off several shots at the creature but it was quick, ducking and running into the cruiser. He fired off several more rounds but they only ended up flattening against the windshield. Bulletproof, he noted with disgust, before he holstered his pistol and withdrew to the Hummer, where he proceeded to unclip something that was hidden in a rack underneath the cab roof…

The creature, meanwhile, noted that her partner had taken the car keys with him. With no way to drive the car, she grabbed the pump action shotgun that was attached to its rack and got on the radio. “This is scout to base, does anyone copy?! Tell the Mayor we have an emergen—” Then her voice trailed off when she spied the stranger pull something from the Hummer.

John flicked off the safety on his customized M4A1 carbine, a custom-built variant and drew the combination assault rifle/grenade launcher up to his shoulder before aiming through the red-dot holographic gunsight. The rifle’s muzzle brake flashed as a burst of 5.56mm silver-jacketed, tungsten-steel core NATO rounds smashed through the windshield and shattered it. The man then flicked off the safety on the under-barrel attached M203A1 grenade launcher and fired….

The 40mm thermobaric grenade flew into the car’s interior and detonated, spreading a thin mist of explosive incendiary particles before igniting from a delayed fuse. The eventual affect was that the thing didn’t even have a chance to scream as the car was enveloped in a massive fireball that exploded outward from within, blowing out the windows and incinerating everything, including the creature. Moments later the cruiser’s gas tank detonated in a fireball that rose into the night sky and momentarily illuminated the area like a gigantic Roman candle, before the flames gradually subsided to leave a plume of oily smoke rising from the shattered remains of the burning vehicle.

John surveyed the flaming wreckage and the surrounding area, making sure there were no other surprises before he lowered his weapon and flicked the weapon selector switch back to “safe”. “Well, I reckon the West hasn’t changed that much after all,” he muttered sarcastically. “So much for driving in without makin’ a scene.” as his eyes darted down the road from whence he came. Off in the distance, he could see the faint shimmer of approaching headlights.

“Shit.” The last thing he needed now was to have his cover blown by some passerby before he’d even reached town. Acting quickly, John withdrew to the Hummer and tossed the assault rifle/grenade launcher combo into the passenger seat. He then stooped to pick up his silver knife off of the ground, before he noticed to his dismay the spent shell casings and scorched remains of the vampire’s gun belt that lay around. However there was no time to sweep any of that up, other than the cop’s pistol that he quickly grabbed and threw into the vehicle as well. He pocketed his knife then climbed into the Hummer and slammed the door shut, started the vehicle and stepped on the gas. The Hummer’s heavily modified electrical/diesel hybrid engine roared as it tore away from the burning wreckage of the police car, past the welcome sign and down the road toward Sunnydale.

Daniel Boone, he thought disgustedly. Next time I’m gonna pick my own damn alias. His eyes drifted to the radio, before he pushed a button on the console beneath…

“EVE, requesting secure comm link with Avalon HQ. Roper, alpha-seven-two-four-nine-foxtrot-november.

“AUTHORIZATION GRANTED,” the console responded in a cold, neutral female voice. “LINK ACTIVATED.”

A moment of silence followed before a crinkle of static cut through, followed by a professional male voice. “Copy Lance Three, this is Avalon Base, go ahead.”

John took a moment to glance in his rearview mirror for signs of anyone tailing him as he drove on. “Avalon Base, this is Lance Three providing sitrep. Be advised I have reached outer perimeter of designated target area Sierra Hotel Mike, have encountered two confirmed hostile Victors. Repeat, two hostile Victors, Class-One, posing as local authorities. Both hostiles have been eliminated, over.”

Another moment of silence hung inside the cab, before it was broke. “Affirmative, Lance Three, will notify CentCom of current situation. Continue to report as situation develops, over.”

“Copy Avalon Base, this is Lance Three, over and out.” The man’s index finger pushed the button again, deactivating the satellite uplink before it drifted up to the more conventional AM/FM radio. After fiddling with the tuner slightly, the lyrics from AC/DC’s “Highway to Hell” could be heard blaring over the radio:

No stop signs, speed limit
Nobody's gonna slow me down
Like a wheel, gonna spin it
Nobody's gonna mess me round
Hey Satan, payed my dues
Playing in a rocking band
Hey Momma, look at me
I'm on my way to the promised land

I'm on the highway to Hell

I’m on the highway to Hell

John almost felt like laughing for a moment at the irony of those lyrics, as he drove toward Boca del Infierno, old Sunny-Hell itself…the Hellmouth.

His thoughts then drifted back to a few days ago, to the event that had led to the mess he’d found himself in now…

He glanced at the woman whose body would embarrass a champion fitness model’s physique. She spoke softly, her exotic accented voice almost lost on the wings of the brisk Northeastern night breeze. “Captain Roper…little witch…I sense something,” Marina, the Gaean Amazon, whispered.

By the light of the full moon, he watched Tory Simmons respond to her six-foot-four-inch tall friend with a roll of her eyes. “No kidding, Dangergirl? Maybe that’s because we’re in the middle of a freaking GRAVEYARD in the middle of the freaking NIGHT!”

She whirled to face him and whispered harshly, “For the record, I’d like to say that I am SO creeped out, my heebies have jeebies! I can’t believe I let you drag me to a freaking cemetery!” Then she narrowed her eyes at him. “Your ‘friend’ must have some serious issues to arrange a meeting in a graveyard, cowboy!” she snapped then added, “I thought we were going to a bar.”

John answered her with a hint of a smirk, knowing it would annoy the hell out of her. “First, the cemetery then the watering hole, after he gets off duty,” he said while allowing himself to grin inwardly for a moment. Alexi as a cop, he mused. Who would believe it? Then he glanced at Tory and said, “Actually, darlin’, for my kind, this is the perfect place to meet.” At her questioning look, he continued. “Graveyards are holy ground to Immortals, Tory. No one’s gonna try and take somebody’s head here…usually, anyway.” Not to mention it’s peaceful, compared to some other places I could think of, he thought to himself.

She simply grunted in reply and fell silent. She’d noticed that Marina was in her Demon Huntress mode and knew her friend would not gladly suffer distractions.

Marina turned to gaze at the Immortal soldier of fortune standing next to her. “You sense it as well, do you not, Captain Roper?”

John squinted into the night momentarily, before nodding. It was that feeling, a sense that was beyond the normal perceptions of most humans…the ability to sense an invisible current, something far beyond the known concepts of science, of what most people called magic, or “magick” as his fellow witch friends had preferred to call it. He still didn’t know why, or how it seemed to flow through him, yet he couldn’t consciously tap into it. He could heal more quickly than others of his kind thanks to it, he could absorb and resist most deadly forms of magick unlike others, and like now could sense it, but how he came to be imbued with it was still as much a mystery as how he became Immortal in the first place.. As he mentally focused, he couldn’t “see” anything just yet, but there was a familiar tingling sensation, like someone gently brushing a live wire against the base of his skull. A scent of magick was in the air, coupled by something else that felt old, very old…and sinister. “Yeah…something’s not right.”

The Amazon stared into the night and pointed toward a cluster of crypts. “Come,” she said simply.

The trio hastily checked the weapons concealed within the lightweight dusters and stealth, all-climate AF body armor that they wore before they marched further into the cemetery, the frosty night air biting at their cheeks and ears regardless. Marina took the lead with John close behind, followed by Tory. Roper, his teeth gritted together like a clamped vise, scanned ahead for any sign of his friend as they weaved between the cemetery plots while the soles of their boots lightly crunched the dingy snow that covered the ground. As his team moved deeper into the graveyard, Roper silently prayed that the women couldn’t see the strain on his face.

Although, from an Immortal’s perspective, cemeteries were good places to avoid entanglements with those who sought to play the ‘Game,’ they never set well with him. They always brought back too many memories, too many reminders for his liking. Every time he saw a headstone, it reminded him all too well of yet another good man, or worse, a good woman that had gone to their grave, while he was still fated to go on, living outside the ravages of time. It was moments like these that, though he didn’t readily admit it, he was glad to have his two companions by his side for several reasons.

First, there was no denying they were easy on the eyes and would make his old friend, Alexi, insanely jealous. In fact if he hadn’t known better, he would’ve thought that Morgaine, the designer of the Avalon Force body armor and another female friend who had shared a past relationship (the operative word was of course, “had”) with the Immortal, enjoyed her work a little too well. Her suits were particularly form-fitting on the women such as Marina and Tory, much more so than the men. Not that he was in any way complaining, though. He sighed wistfully in spite of the chill wind that picked up in intensity, almost losing himself for a moment as the wind partly blew away Marina’s coat to the side thus allowing her sexy sway of her hips to come into view, perfectly encased in the form-fitting armor she wore as she led the way. Jesus Christ, he swore, that filly’s supernatural stature and beauty offered temptations that sorely tested any man’s libido! As for Tory, well, he’d admitted before that he wouldn’t toss her out of bed for eating crackers, neither. Despite the fact she was an egghead, she was fine, with her comfy-as-a-lazy-summer-afternoon’s allure. Indeed, unlike the violet-eyed Amazon who never seemed to take a shine to anyone other than her red headed friend, Tory was somebody he’d actually imagined sharing his bed with…if it wasn’t for the fact that his own track record with women wasn’t such a huge goddamn train wreck.

Second, both women possessed amazing abilities. Time and again, they’d proven their worth in every situation, against any threat mundane, macabre, or otherwise…perhaps because with Avalon Force, failure was not considered a viable option.

Most everyone else in the world, including those who “listened” weren’t even aware of Avalon Force’s existence, in spite of leaving their decisive mark during several missions and engagements within the United States and worldwide. There was of course a rumor that there was a new subdivision working for either the Central Intelligence Agency or Defense Intelligence Agency, or a classified wetworks element of the National Security Agency, or possibly even a new unit working for the United States Special Operations Command. None of which were true of course. All that mattered was that the rumors and flow of disinformation kept any curious would-be snoops running around endlessly in circles. No one would have suspected that one of the main driving forces behind the creation of Avalon Force was actually none other than Nimue, the famed Lady of the Lake of Arthurian and pagan lore. To any sane mind, sanity of course being considered a relative term, that fact alone would have rendered the entire subject laughably bizarre. But the bizarre seemed rather routine as far as Avalon Force was concerned…

As far as how Avalon Force had come to recruit him, it was a bit of a story in itself. But to make a story short, the first time they’d come to offer him a job, he’d been flying MI-24 Hind helicopter gunships in

Sierra Leone

. The second time, they’d found him after he’d been shot down over mysterious circumstances in RUF territory, and had been tortured for three days, smelling of blood, sweat and urine. A mob of bloodthirsty Revolutionary United Front rebels had been intent on devouring his heart and chopping off his head, before his new “friends” showed up and persuaded the rebels to desist with a storm of rocket and machine gun fire. They had then offered him a second chance, and a choice: Join their group, or take his chances in an increasingly dire world where it now seemed that someone, or something, seriously wanted him dead, more so than ever.

He took the job. After everything considered, what the hell else was he going to do?

John shook his head and refocused on the task at hand. Several minutes after they had begun their trek through South Boston’s garden of good and evil, he felt the ‘buzz’ of a nearby Immortal as his team rounded a granite obelisk. They spied two figures twenty or so yards ahead and from that distance, he couldn’t really see their faces, but he recognized the strapping frame of his friend, Alexi Gregof, cloaked in a tan trench coat, facing a curvaceous woman…

“What the hell?” he whispered hoarsely. Something about her wasn’t right. Just gazing at the woman was tripping his mystical sense off like a wailing fire alarm through his head, as he could almost literally see an aura of darkness around her in spite of her beauty. Then another thing hit him. The reason he could tell she was curvaceous was the fact that her body was shrouded in a sheer, gossamer material, quite transparent…

Suddenly Marina growled like some great beast, causing Roper to nearly jump out of his skin. “Hell’s spawn!” she barked and sprinted toward the couple. Then Tory, who now stood beside him, sighed resignedly. “Tally ho!” she quipped and charged after her Gaean Amazon friend with John following closely behind them.

The woman had reached out and drawn an unyielding Alexi toward her when she glanced up and away from his neck to see the magnificent warrior woman rapidly closing. A moment later, a dull scream tore from her throat while her fingers closed on Alexi’s jaw. Then she tipped her head back and emitted an ear-piercing shriek of pure rage.

Even Roper, a man who’d witnessed the horrors of war, who’d held onto his sanity in the face of supernatural terrors, was suddenly overwhelmed by fright. His eyes bulged in horror while the ethereal woman transformed into the demonic visage of a giant humanoid vampire bat. Now, as the creature held onto Alexi’s throat with a long-fingered hand, Marina launched herself toward the thing and connected with a powerful right cross against its left jaw that served to separate the beast from its prey.

The otherworldly woman’s blow sent the bat-thing flying into the wall of a mausoleum. Marina then called out, “Tory...tell me how to kill it!” over her shoulder while she pursued the creature. Pressing her attack, the Gaean took flight like an avenging angel to plant a wicked flying kick against the creature’s injured jaw, sending it to the ground. As the thing struggled to clear its head, its attacker followed with a crescent kick, a palm strike to the nose, and finally a spin kick that was so vicious it smashed the creature into the mausoleum’s marble wall, causing most of it to collapse.

Incredibly, after several blows that would have destroyed a normal vampire or a low-level demon, the thing threw back its head and shrieked angrily. Then it launched itself at Marina, catching the Demon Huntress off guard. With a back-handed blow, the creature hit Marina so hard it sent the Gaean Amazon flying and caused her to smash through a stone obelisk. As the woman struggled to rise, the creature rapidly closed the distance between them and stomped Marina’s head into the frozen earth.

At that moment, something smacked John’s jaw. He blinked twice and finally registered that Tory stood in front of him. “Hey, cowboy! Get a grip!”

“What...what hap—” His eyes opened wide when he saw the spectacle before him. “Goddamnitt,” he growled as he reached for the Heckler & Koch SMG II submachine gun he had concealed beneath his duster...

“No!” she snapped, cutting him off. “Draw your pig-sticker and when I give the word, you take that thing’s head...understand?” He nodded and she gripped his shoulder. “Good!” she said. Then she raced toward Marina and the monster while she unclipped a bola from her belt. John muttered something darkly under his breath as he reached into his duster, drew his schweizersabelsaber, and charged after her.

“Dangergirl!” Tory screamed as she twirled the bola in her right hand, “trip it up!”

At the red head’s command, the Gaean reached out and wrapped both of her powerful arms around the creature’s ankles as Tory launched her weapon. The bola whirled through the air, entangled both the arms and wings of the creature, and threw it off balance. Then, when Marina yanked the creature’s calf muscles toward her, the bat-thing stumbled forward and fell to its knees.

At her command, Roper gripped his schweizersabel sword with both hands and swung as hard as he possibly could. When the enchanted sword with its rune-inscribed blade struck the creature’s neck an agonized shriek came forth, only to be cut short when the razor-sharp cutting edge cleaved through both flesh and bone and decapitated the creature. However, instead of witnessing the head of some bat-winged demon tumble onto the ground, a horrified Roper saw the head of a pale, but beautiful woman at his feet.

“Not bad, John.” Tory chirped as she patted him briskly on his back. “You do come in handy sometimes.”

John stared at the decapitated head of the beautiful woman for a moment, noticing the blood dripping from the severed neck and head to leave crimson stains on the white snow underneath. The Immortal continued to stare at the corpse until he felt the redhead’s gaze on him. “John?” He looked up at Tory, who now had a worried expression on her face. “You okay?”

John took another glance at the creature at his feet, before taking a deep breath and exhaling, the frosty vapors carrying away in the night air as he sheathed his saber. “Yeah darlin’, I’m fine. Thanks for askin’.”

Marina, no longer encumbered by a bat-winged demon’s remains, shoved the woman’s body to one side. Then she stood and brushed herself off. “Well…that was brisk!” she observed brightly.

Brisk, she’d said? Roper’s eyebrows nearly hit the roof at that. One mausoleum looked like it had been the target of a radar-guided bunker buster, several headstones and obelisks had been pulverized, and there was the decapitated body of a beautiful woman along with her lovely head lying on the ground. But there was something else that caught John’s eye, however. Nearby, roughly scrawled onto the stone of a nearby mausoleum that had apparently been broken into, or out of, was what appeared to be a long written sentence in chalk of some foreign dialect, possibly Celtic, although he couldn’t decipher it. “Tory, Marina…have a look at this.”

Both women sauntered over to see where John gestured to the scrawled handwriting on the side of the tomb. “Any idea what this is?”

Marina shook her head, while Tory looked at the alien text thoughtfully. “Hmmm…appears to be early Celtic text of some kind. I mean, REALLY early text. That’s just a guess though.”

John looked at the tall redhead with an expression that was both incredulous and annoyed. “Tory, you’re the walking computer on steroids of this bunch. What the hell do you mean by you’re guessing?”

The hacker glared back at her companion. “Well, excuuuuse me Captain Cowboy, I’m smart but not frickin’ omniscient. This appears to be a variant of Celtic text that hasn’t been filed into our database yet.” She turned back to the scrawled letters on the side of the mausoleum and sighed. “I’ll scan this and hand over a copy to Duncan and Alana, maybe they can make something of it.” Her lean body became slightly rigid as she temporarily went into a trance, her eyes intently focused on the letters as they took in every detail like a scanner, copiously memorizing every detail and filing it into her computer-like mind. Satisfied that she was done, she looked over to the front of the mausoleum, on which the name of the recently deceased woman was etched in stone. “Stephanie Miller,” she said quietly. “Born 1977, died this year. She was pretty young.”

However, Marina, apparently, had taken it all in stride. “If this man,” she indicated with a sweep of her powerful right hand toward Alexi, who appeared to be awakening from an enchantment, “is the one we were to meet, should we collect him and seek yon tavern?”

John heard the warm baritone voice of his friend respond to her question. “That’s an excellent idea! John,” Roper turned to face his friend and saw the winning smile on his face. “I like the company you keep!”

Roper grunted and glared at his friend in response. “You should since they just saved your ass. You got a heap of explainin’ to do, Alexi!”

“So,” Alexi then paused to drain the rest of the beer from his glass before he continued, “when both the father and the husband were found dead near her crypt, I decided to stake out the Miller crypt. And let me tell you, though I’ve had the misfortune of running into vampires before, never in my wildest dreams did I ever think to run into something like her.”

After Tory, Marina, and Roper had cleaned up the combat zone, Alexi Gregof had guided them to a nearby tavern. Now Alexi sat across from him at the polished oak table, while Tory and Marina sat on either side of him, while the three of them did their best to fit in with the civilians by using the camouflage mode of their uniforms to make them appear to the other patrons that they were dressed in swanky casual wear.

Alexi shot a friendly glare at the lovely red head. “Now, now—haven’t we talked about that?”

She grinned shyly at him. “Sorry, Alexi. It won’t happen again. As I was saying, when I saw that both you and Roper were entranced by her skanky ho disguise and horrified by her bat form, all the signs pointed to the Dearg-Dul, particularly since she came from a very rich and very old Irish family. You know, she’s probably the first Dearg-Dul that’s ever been seen in

America

. This kind of demon is very rare, especially in the post-Celtic world. First, she had to be in a situation where her father arranged a marriage for her with an abusive creep. Then she had to have Celtic blood in her family. Finally, she had to have arranged to kill herself after she had mastered some extremely dark arts to ensure that she would rise from the grave to become the Dearg-Dul after she died.”

“That’s what bugs me, in addition to that writing we found,” John spoke up. “How’d she get her hands on that kind of damn mojo if that creature’s truly as rare as you claim it is?”

Tory shook her head. “I don’t know. Guess we’ll need to check around on that.” Her witch-green eyes came to rest on the table momentarily as her expression became solemn. “You know, it’s sad really…”

Tory gazed over to where John sat, looking slightly incredulous. “Well, isn’t it obvious? If her father hadn’t pushed her into a bad marriage or if her husband hadn’t abused her, she would never have sold her soul to the underworld to become such a terrible thing in the first place.”

At that, Roper shifted uncomfortably in his seat and shot an irritated look at her. “Why are we yapping about what may have made her do it? What’s done is done. No use carping on it now.” He then forcefully took a swig from his beer.

Before a miffed Tory could respond to his diatribe, they heard someone ask, “Would you like some more ‘black stuff’?”

Roper flashed his eyes from the almost-empty glass of beer in his hands to the pretty blonde waitress who stood nearby. Of course by ‘black stuff’, the Irish waitress had meant the rounds of Guiness they were all drinking. “I’d be mighty obliged to you, darlin’. Another round for my friends, too,” he added, nodding to his companions. The olive-skinned man, his own raven hair slicked back, nodded his thanks at John before he shifted his gaze to the waitress.

The waitress smiled in return as she placed four full glasses of beer on the table and picked up the empty ones. “Oi. Gets a little rowdy at times, but we manage,” she replied over the din in a soft Irish brogue. “We like to think of ourselves as one of the authentic Irish pubs here in Southie. Not as old as some others around here, but it’s got its charm.”

“Indeed? Forgive my curiosity,” the dark man inquired with a sly smile, “but I could not help but notice your accent. Might you be from

Northern Ireland

, perhaps?”

“Oh, well, yes actually,” the waitress replied with a slightly nervous smile. “I’m from Banbridge. You’ve been to Norn Ireland, I take it?”

“Oh, here and there,” Alexi replied, never breaking his smile. “You might say I’ve traveled the world often.” At that, John lowly cleared his throat. “But it is always lovely to meet someone from the Northern Isles, especially one as lovely as you.” The waitress blushed deeply in reply before excusing herself to attend to the other guests.

“You’re still hitting on just about every filly you come across, Alexi?” John said in a slightly exasperated voice. In the time since he’d known him, Alexi had quickly established a reputation as a bit of a ladies’ man, among other things. Of course, the number of would-be suitors that dearly wanted Alexi’s head on a platter had a far different opinion of him. Of course, sometimes the same thing could have been said about him as well…

Alexi casually shrugged. “But of course. I am one of the Rom, after all. We have a reputation to uphold,” he said with a wicked smile.

While Marina innocently took in everything around her and Tory rolled her eyes at his gypsy friend’s antics, John took another look around the tavern to find that numerous patrons of all stripes had come inside to take refuge from the chilly February night. Outside the frosted window panes a steady sleet of snow had begun to fall, while inside the aged, yet well-appointed tavern was alive with both murmured conversations and raucous bellows. A small musical band that had traveled over from Dublin was taking a break and sharing a few beers with a grateful audience that had bought a round for them. Over the bar in the center of the tavern hung a large TV screen from which the latest program on CNN could barely be heard above the din.

“Good evening, America, I’m Larry King. Tonight, we have a very interesting program and some special guests as we discuss a most unusual topic: the prevalent tales of myths and conspiracies here in America. Men in Black, UFO’s, government cover-ups, Bigfoot sightings, paranormal phenomena, ghosts, witchcraft…why do all these mysterious tales and conspiracies continue to be prevalent throughout the United States to this day? Or better yet, why do people believe in these stories? We’ll have several guests tonight to comment and give their opinions on this phenomenon, as well as give you all a chance to phone in and give your opinions as well. Now, let’s welcome our first guest. She’s the author of the book “America the Strange” and also a freelance journalist with the San Francisco Chronicle, Victoria Swenson. Miss Swenson, welcome to the show.”

“Oh, great, another fuckin’ show on UFO’s,” one of the tavern’s patrons, a portly fellow with slightly ruffled hair at the bar slurred as he gazed at the TV screen, sipping his beer. “Well, at least the first guest is a looker,” he added, noting the stunning brunette woman on the screen who smiled at Larry King. “Guess it ain’t a total loss.”

“Hey, don’t be knockin’ that whole UFO thing, I saw one myself, y’know,” a thinner, balding man next to him said, his own voice heavily slurred as he attended to his brew. “Saw it a couple nights ago north of here, swear to God.” The man attempted to raise his hand in a feigned attempt at an oath, only to almost fall out of his seat before steadying himself. “It was like a huge goddamn insect thing, bigger’n anythin’ I’d ever seen, hoverin’ over Salem...”

“Salem, huh? Yeah, right, that was probably your ma flyin’ on her broom again,” the portly man cracked.

Tory coughed noisily when she overheard that conversation. John flashed a smirk in reply, although knowing full well that a certain pilot friend of theirs was in for an ass chewing when they got back to Avalon Force HQ. But that wasn’t his biggest worry at the moment. During his initial scanning of the bar he’d noticed a group of men who were now sitting at a table several feet away from their own. Each one of them looked like rejects from the Irish Republican Army as they busily talked amongst themselves, all the while casting dirty looks in his direction. That sounded an alert in his brain as he continued to scan the rest of the bar for any other potential signs of trouble, before Alexi regained his attention by clearing his throat. “You appear to be a bit tense my friend, is something the matter?”

“He’s always tense,” Tory cracked, although she and Marina had noticed the other men as well.

The gypsy smiled at Tory affectionately, before following their gazes to the men. His smiled disappeared as he appeared to recognize the men. “Ah…well, I suppose this place does have its less-than-desirable elements as well.”

“Do you know them boys?” John asked, his eyes glaring at the group of ruffians. He admitted he was feeling paranoid, but he always had a good reason to be. It ain’t paranoia when someone’s out to get you. He didn’t appreciate people eyeballing him either.

Alexi nodded. “They’re members of the South Boston mob. Some of them used to have connections to ‘Whitey’ Bulger. They know I’m a police officer and probably think I’m here to keep tabs on them. It may make them uncomfortable, but they won’t do anything rash. They’re not looking for trouble.” He grimaced however, when two of the men stood up and began to walk toward their table. “Then again, I have been known to be wrong on occasion,” he admitted dryly.

“I can lure them out back and kill them,” John stated flatly, “Leave you a few less mobsters to deal with.”

“This is Boston, John, not New York,” Alexi reminded him gently. “And I am a police officer. Let us try a more low-key approach, yes?”

Each of the table patrons waited silently as the two beefy-looking Irish men reached their spot in the tavern, each standing off a few feet away from where the women sat. Tory and Marina collectively wrinkled their noses in disgust as they smelled the cheap alcohol and stale tobacco smoke on their breaths, before frowning as they noticed the two men leering noticeably at them.

“Hello, boys. Something we can help you with?” John inquired in a calm voice.

“Yeah,” one of the men slurred, obviously inebriated from one too many shots of Irish whiskey. “Just noticed that there’s two real fine lookin’ women at this table,” he indicated with a leer toward Tory, eliciting an “ew” expression from the comely redhead. “Only problem is…it seems they’re hangin’ with some fuckin’ cop and a cowboy who apparently didn’t notice the ‘No Faggots Allowed’ policy sign hangin’ over the door. “

“Really?” John inquired in a deadly tone. “Actually, I did see it. Funny you mention it, though.”

The former Army officer gave the mobster a good, long unblinking look that caused the thug to twitch uncomfortably for a moment. “Well…I’m not the one who’s walking around here with a ‘I just got fucked by a priest’ look on my face, am I?”

The second mobster didn’t seem to care for that particular comment. “Lousy cow-fuckin’ piece o’ shi—“ His exclamation along with the fist that had risen to smash into John’s face was interrupted with a loud cry of pain when Marina, who no longer had an innocent look on her face, grabbed the mobster’s arm and calmly twisted it in a painful fashion while she coolly regarded him. Meanwhile, the Amazon’s friend was not to be outdone, as Tory unceremoniously shot out a hand and grabbed the other mobster by the crotch, eliciting a yelp and a bulged-eyed expression from him. Several of the tavern’s patrons quieted down when they noticed the commotion at his table.

“Wow, I gotta say, it has been SO charming to meet you two hygienically-challenged St. Patrick’s Day revelers,” Tory cooed sweetly as she eyed the big guy before her with a steely gaze, never letting go of the package she held in her hand, while Marina continued to hold the second mobster’s arm in a viselike grip, her violet eyes coldly regarding his sweaty face. “By ‘charming,’ I meant ‘annoying.’ So I guess this is your cue to beat feet and skedaddle. Buh-bye!” With that the two ladies gently yet firmly shoved away the two men who, after taking a quick survey of the four dangerous-looking individuals seated at the table, quickly paid their tab and left through the door. The quartet then cast a momentary glance together at the remaining mobsters who sat at the table nearby. After a moment of uncertainty passed, the men huddled back amongst themselves and politely tried not to notice the bemused expressions from the four, while the tavern’s air of raucousness returned to normal.

Alexi broke out into a hearty chuckle, while John offered a respectful salute with his beer glass toward the two women, who had settled back into their comfortable positions with their legs demurely crossed and answered him with a pair of breathtaking smiles. “My hat’s off to you, ladies,” he grunted. “I’d have to say you were far more patient with those two than me or Alexi ever would be. If it’d been us, those two would’ve been lucky to be able to walk out.”

The women’s eyebrows rose slightly at that remark, while Alexi simply chuckled again and said, “Of that you can be certain, John!”

Although the two of them looked like just another bunch of patrons in this particular establishment, few people in the world knew what they truly were; members of a race of beings known throughout history as Immortals, beings who did not whither from old age or disease, and could never truly die, except by losing their heads…literally. They came from all parts of the world and from all eons of history, walking the Earth in secret and hiding amongst the everyday lives of the mortal population, struggling to survive “the Game”, an eternal contest where if one Immortal chose to cross swords with another, they would duel to the death which could only be won by literally severing the opponent’s head from his neck. This allowed him/her to absorb the opponent’s Quickening, a mystical life-force that existed within each Immortal that, as the legends went, would allow one to perform extraordinary feats if enough energy was absorbed. And thus many of these Immortals continued to duel throughout the ages, sometimes forging and breaking pacts with one another, sometimes falling in love, and other times carrying out their own grudges and agendas, indelibly leaving their own marks on human history.

No one knew how long exactly their kind had walked the Earth, or to what purpose, but there were records and chronicles of their adventures, kept by a mysterious secret society known as the Watchers, that had followed them throughout the ages. The accounts of some, such as Connor MacLeod and Duncan MacLeod, were fairly well-known to those who paid attention to the dealings concerning their kind. Others like Alexi and himself were lesser known, although not without their own histories. Like others of his kind, John had been introduced to the concept of Immortality in a harsh manner when he had been struck from his horse by several rifle bullets to die on a carnage-strewn battlefield during a hot stinking day in July, in a place known as Gettysburg., Pennsylvania. The battle then was considered the “turning point” during what most people nowadays called the American Civil War, but to John it had been little more than three days of hell. The former Union cavalry officer had witnessed carnage before, but nothing quite on the scale of what he’d seen that day. Upon his sudden and rather harsh return to the land of the living, he found that the rest of his company under the 1^st Vermont Calvary, commanded by General Farnsworth had been brutally slaughtered…not to mention a vulture had been trying to peck at his corpse. But then, coming back from the dead had never been a savory experience for any Immortal he’d spoken too, especially the two beautiful Immortal women who’d found him and helped him come to terms with his new life, but that too, was another story…

Shaking himself free of his short jog down memory lane, John turned to once again regard the gypsy Immortal and his friend, Alexi Gregof. As far as John was concerned, he didn’t have many friends in this world. He knew plenty of acquaintances, but as far as friends went, he could count those with the digits of his hands and he considered Alexi as one of those. The two had met for the first time during World War Two, when John had been a field agent for the Office of Strategic Services, while Alexi had been a guerilla fighter trying to protect his gypsy clan, the Kalendish as he called them, from the Nazis who had attempted to exterminate them along with anyone else they deemed inferior as part of Hitler’s “Final Solution”. But beyond becoming mere comrades-in-arms on the battlefield, the two had become close friends, which was unusual to see between a gypsy and a giorgio.

“Now, Miss Swenson, you’ve been researching the paranormal for how long, exactly?”

“Well, before we begin Larry, I just want to stress that my research tends to focus more on the various myths and legends found within America and abroad, as well as psychic phenomena, mythic creatures and what most people call ‘ghosts’. I’m not so much into conspiracies about UFO’s and Men in Black, and what you would call’ little green men’. Now, as to my interest in this subject, I guess you could say it was due to a few, well, particular events I’ve experienced firsthand since I was a child, which fueled my fascination with the subject. I was intrigued with the prevalence of a lot of the tales of ghosts, mysterious beings such as Bigfoot and the Mothman, and also many of the witchcraft and pagan cults that have sprang up within the past few decades. And since then, my research has taken me into other areas. Lately I’ve been doing quite a bit of research on individuals who claim to practice what we would call magic, and also legends and myths surrounding vampires…”

“Of all the things I imagined you doin’, Alexi, the last I ever thought you were gonna be was a cop,” John noted as he watched his friend continue to throw flirtatious looks with the waitress, who was attending to several patrons at another table, but responded to the gypsy with a smile of her own. “Better be careful with that filly though, wouldn’t surprise me if she’s got a cousin with the IRA or the Ulster Loyalists somewhere.”

Alexi frowned slightly at that. “Being a bit paranoid as always, John? You do seem to have a talent for wanting to ruin the moment. Or perhaps, these two lovely female companions are simply not enough for a man like yourself, and you may be looking for a third companion to keep yourself warm this evening, no?” The gypsy smirked mischievously.

The former cavalry officer-turned-mercenary gritted his teeth. “Alexi…so help me, keep this up you’d better start praying to your own gods, because…”

The gypsy laughed out loud. “Oh, John, relax! I never meant it in that fashion.” He then flashed a sly smile. “After all, the word on the street is that now you have, how shall I say, resurfaced, your name has been mentioned on the lips of some witches and sorceresses looking for a potential, ah, mate, to put it candidly.”

John’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean my name’s ‘resurfaced’? In what way, Alexi?”

Alexi raised an eyebrow. “Not so fast, old friend. There are always plenty of rumors to discuss. Such as, the rumors I hear of you traveling with these talented women and perhaps a few others as of late, no?”

Marina didn’t appear to have heard Alexi’s queries as her focus seemed to be fixed at the moment on the television. However, Tory shot a worried look at him that tore him up inside. It was hardly unexpected; the gypsies had eyes and ears everywhere, and Alexi, as much as he was considered a friend, was obviously putting out feelers in a hope to gain some bit of information that could be passed on. John kept up his casual, cool demeanor as he gazed at his friend. “You know what they say Alexi…the more, the merrier. Just because I got a few more ladies traveling with me nowadays shouldn’t mean anything special.”

Alexi gave John a bemused expression. “As you wish. But shall I mention to your lady friends of some of your other past…exploits?” The gypsy’s eyes twinkled mischievously as John shot an anxious look at Tory and Marina, who appeared rather amused and interested in this snippet of conversation. Unabashed, the gypsy went on. “Oh, where shall we begin? I do believe the list includes a few names such as Gabrielle, Sonja, Tessa Alvarado, Sadie Wilde, your past courtship with Morgaine Le Fay, and of course, who could forget that little misadventure with Melissa Halliwell and Cristina…” Alexi then stopped in his tracks and winced, realizing that he’d brought up two names that John REALLY didn’t like to discuss. “John…I am sorry, I forgot…”

John’s eyes narrowed in a deadly manner as his voice became as cold as ice. The fingers of his right hand unconsciously flexed on the hidden hilt of his saber. “I distinctly remember telling you to never bring up those last two names ever again.”

At that moment, Tory’s eyes opened wide. Then she announced brightly, “Well, what do you know! Nature calls! Marina…let’s make a run to the little girl’s room.”

Marina looked at her, confused. “Are we not women, Tory? Why would we want to go to some little girl’s boudoir?”

Tory sighed. “It’s an expression, Dangergirl. It means the ladies’ room. You know…the bathroom.”

After the women had walked away, Alexi offered softly, “Please, John, I am truly sorry. Forgive me for my lapse, my friend. We gypsies often speak, or boast, for that matter, from our hearts, not from our heads.”

“No shit,” John muttered, as he gazed into the foaming ebony liquid of his beer. “Don’t apologize, though…there’s nothing more to apologize for.” He took a long angry swig from his glass before setting it down again.

“I confess, I never had the pleasure of knowing Cristina face-to-face before…well, everything that happened,” Alexi noted in a more gentle tone. “But I know you did love her, much like I loved Patrina....”

“Let’s move on, Alexi,” John snapped. “Other than catching up on old times, why exactly did you want to meet here? The local brew ain’t bad, but I get the feeling that there’s something more to why you dragged me down to Boston.”

Alexi hung his head slightly and sighed, before he gazed into John’s eyes. “You are right, my friend. I need your help. A cousin of mine, Enyos, has gone missing in a town known as Sunnydale, in California. Have you heard of it?”

“Maybe. I recall hearing something about it when I was out west back in the day. Don’t remember it being anything good, though. Tessa…well, when we rode together way back when, she told me the Spaniards called it Boca del Infierno…the Mouth of Hell. She swore on her mother’s grave that the stories she’d heard were true and to stay clear of that place.” John took another draught from his beer and grunted. Boy howdy, Tessa was sure the mistress of understatement. He didn’t recall the whole story, but he heard other folks who’d considered it to be a really bad place, and that was saying something considering how harsh the West was back then.

“Well, that’s quite a broad field of phenomena you’ve studied, Miss Swenson. Tell us, why do you think all these various myths are still prevalent in the Twentieth Century?”

“That’s a good question, Larry, and actually I honestly don’t think there’s an easy answer for that. We all like to think of all the progress we’ve made throughout the centuries to where we are now. But as we approach the end of this century, I think we tend to forget that for all the achievements we’ve made, there are always more unanswered questions out there and places that are yet to be explored. That’s how I approach this material. By that, I mean, we can’t assume that every myth or legend is true, but we can’t completely dismiss them either as all myths have some grain of truth to them.”

“Uh, are you saying that there are actually vampires, as I think you said earlier, out there?”

“No, I’m not saying that, Larry. But I think these various tales of vampires, for instance, are rather odd considering they’re found in just about every culture. Also, just about every culture has myths about dragons, faeries or changelings, ghosts, deities, a great flood, etc. I think the truth is out there, Larry, so to speak, and it’s up to us to connect the dots and find that truth.”

Alexi nodded solemnly. “Indeed, Boca del Infierno. However, despite the stories associated with that place, it appears that it has now become an established community. Enyos was there to check on another relative of mine that I hold dear, my beautiful niece, Janna, who I have not heard from for quite some time.”

John pondered on the two names for a moment. He’d met Enyos before, although he hadn’t seen him for a while now. “I remember Enyos. I gather he’s still his old oddball self, ain’t he?” Although, he figured, that had probably just been Enyos’s way of doing business.

The gypsy raised an eyebrow at that. “Well yes, in your eyes I suppose so. But you must understand that is part of his way of preserving our traditions, especially in these times.” His face then grew serious as he narrowed his dark eyes slightly at John. “It is important that our legacy be passed on to our children, something that Enyos and I firmly believe in. Something that I think you would appreciate.”

John sighed before raising a hand to calm his friend. “Now hold your horses, Alexi, I didn’t mean nuthin’ by that…but he’s still a queer duck regardless. Haven’t seen him in a while. Janna, though…not too sure I remember her. Have I met her?”

The gypsy pursed his lips in thought. “Hmmm…once perhaps, probably only when she was still just a little shey. It was when the clan came together for that one celebration a while ago…in the Austrian Alps I think. Do you remember that time?”

John’s gaze wandered elsewhere as his mind drifted back. “Yeah, I remember that.” It had been a cool spring day in the picturesque countryside nestled among the breathtaking white peaks of the Austrian Alps. While the local authorities had been less than enthusiastic about a caravan of gypsies showing up in the area, the Kalendish clan paid no heed and set up their wagons and tents for the day, throwing a huge celebration where members of the clan from all over the world had come together to celebrate their heritage. John at that time had been one of the few Giorgio who had ever been accepted by the clan, and had been invited as a guest of honor, which he’d readily accepted. What followed was a joyous feast with plenty of laughter, food and drink accompanied by a troupe of beautiful gypsy women, who had put on a show of uninhibited dancing with their alluring, enticing beauty only adding to the magnificence of the dance. Those had been good times…

“Now Miss Swenson, you were also an associate of another author who was also a researcher in the paranormal, Jose Chung, who unfortunately was killed while he was conducting research for his latest book which was centered around the rise of various belief systems at the eve of the millennium, which I believe was called ‘The Doomsday Defense’, correct?”

“Yes, and that’s very unfortunate. Jose…I mean Mr. Chung was actually a good friend of mine. While not everyone seemed to agree with what he wrote, he had that combination of irreverence and wit that you just don’t find very often when you’re researching a subject like this. Believe it or not, at the risk of sounding a little melodramatic, it can actually get rather…well, uncomfortable and maybe even a bit frightening at times. I think that’s partly why so many people are becoming anxious and paranoid about the coming millennium because we have no idea what it’ll bring.”

“Thank you Miss Swenson. We’ll be right back with more from our guest, Victoria Swenson. And later, we’ll also be discussing the blossoming interest in the paranormal over the Internet, as we meet the creators and owners of a website dedicated to the paranormal and the bizarre, called FreakyLinks. All this and more, when we come back…”

The former army officer drew his attention away from the television and returned it to his friend. “When was the last time you heard from either one of them?”

“We have not heard from them for several weeks now, actually. The message I received from Enyos said that he had met Janna and she appeared to be relatively well, but that…” His voice trailed off, uncertainly.

The mercenary sighed impatiently. “Alexi, you’re talking about a placed called the Mouth of Hell. Do you want to be a LITTLE more specific?”

“John, I only know it has been several weeks since he relayed his last message to us, and no one in our clan has heard from him. I hope to the Gods that he is well, but…I am beginning to fear the worst.” A haunted look came into Alexi’s dark eyes, something that John hadn’t seen very often unless he was truly worried about someone, or something. “And I can only pray that my jel ‘enedra, my precious Janna, is safe. John…I would like to ask a favor of you. Please, would you travel to Sunnydale, find out what has happened to Enyos, and above all…see that my little Janna is safe.”

John narrowed his eyes at his friend. “Hold on, Alexi, I’m not jumping into this so quick. You’re not telling me something; what is it?”

A note of strain and panic began to creep into Alexi’s voice. Whatever it was, it appeared to John that it had his friend on edge. “John, please, I beg of you. You are one of the few giorgio, if any, that I can trust. I am only asking that you see what has become of Enyos and my dear Janna. This is all I ask…please.”

John took a long, slow sip of his beer and set down the glass, before quietly nodding his assent. “All right…I’ll see what I can do.”

“Don’t thank me just yet,” the former cavalry officer snapped. Then he sighed. “You have any idea where I can find them in this town? Or maybe have a photograph of Janna by any chance?”

The gypsy nodded. He reached into his jacket, withdrew a piece of paper with two addresses written on it, and a photo. “Enyos was supposed to be staying at this residence, a boarding house, when we last heard from him. Janna was staying at this other residence, while working at the local high school as a computer teacher, I believe. She is currently living under an alias; Jennifer Calendar.”

Alexi shrugged. “For her own protection, John. We of the Rom sometimes prefer discretion in our dealings with the giorgio. I am sure you understand. I have a picture of Janna here, although it is a bit dated. She would be older now than she appears in this photo.” He then handed him the photograph, showing a younger, smiling Enyos, who appeared to be enjoying himself in what apparently was New York City, indicated by the Statue of Liberty in the background. Next to him sat a young smiling woman in her teens with a curvaceous dancer’s figure. She had dark chocolate eyes that radiated a sense of warmth and intelligence even from the old photo, set into an exquisite face framed by waves of indigo hair.

John blinked once, then twice as he studied the young woman. Jesus Christ, she’s exquisite! He then regained his self-composure before continuing to study the photo for another moment. Don’t get your head up your ass, boy. Focus. “Pretty girl, Alexi. You ought to be proud.”

Alexi unabashedly displayed a great, proud smile. “Thank you John. Indeed, the entire tribe is very proud of her. But she is more than just my cousin John. She also has the potential to be a chovihani of the tribe, and a great one at that.” His smile then morphed into a slight frown. “However, I do not think she has fully come into her role as one yet, though. Jennifer, in spite of her heart and appreciation for our ways, does not yet seem to fully grasp them. From what I have seen and heard, she seems more preoccupied with computers and technology, of all things, rather than our traditions. But, ahem, regardless…considering your, ah, special relationship with those other women who practice the craft, do be careful around her, yes?”

John snorted in amusement at that last statement. It seemed his friend had a talent for understatement as well. Plenty more than one witch or sorceress, it seemed, had always wanted him. “I’m just trying to fly solo for now Alexi, so don’t even worry about it.”

“See,” the mercenary snapped, “I knew you were gonna say that. It’s a classic gypsy trick. Get the mark to agree to something first then add something more.”

“Don’t be so suspicious, John,” the gypsy growled. “It’ll be the death of you,” he teased. “I have but one request.” The gypsy’s face then grew more solemn than before, perhaps more so than John had ever seen. “My request is, when and if you do find Janna, promise me you will do everything in your power to protect her. She means much to the tribe friend, but even more to me, almost like a daughter. I have been forced to witness the passing of so many of my clan over the centuries, and yet with her…I know her time will come, but I could not stand to see the life robbed from her before she has at least had a chance to live it. Promise you will do this for me…please.”

John pondered quietly in thought for a moment, before he nodded. “I promise.” He then gazed at both of their beer glasses, which were nearly empty. “Another round?”

Before he could answer, Marina and Tory strode to their table with serious looks painted on both of their faces. “John,” the red head said, “Cath just raised us on the comm. She wants everyone back at HQ immediately.”

The former army officer’s expression was all business now. “Really? They say what about?”

“No…but it sounded pretty serious. When she made the call she was in the middle of a video conference with all the other bigwigs.” The hacker leaned in to whisper into the captain’s ear, out of earshot of the gypsy. “She mentioned they’d been talking for the last hour or so with Jason’s mom and dad, the Xanatoses, Morgaine, hell, even Nimue and Morganne.” She let the significance of those names sink in.

The Immortal mercenary frowned. All of them having a videoconference at this hour? Doesn’t sound good…and not just because I’m not particularly anxious to be in the same room with some of those faces anyway. He sighed in resignation…it was going to be another one of those nights. “All right darlin’, lead the way. Since I’m feelin’ just slightly tipsy I reckon you don’t mind drivin’.”

Tory simply nodded and opened the palm of her hand. John then reached into his coat pocket, withdrew his keys, and handed them to her.

“I must be going as well,” Alexi said. “It has been a pleasure to meet you lovely ladies, to be sure,” the gypsy noted with a graceful bow and a wave of his hand. “John…you will do the favor I asked of you, yes?”

The former cavalry officer nodded. “It’s done, Alexi, don’t you fret. You sure you’re gonna be fine, though?” Then he shot a surreptitious glance at the table filled with the remaining Irish mobsters.

The gypsy smirked playfully. “Don’t worry, John. Staying one step ahead of our enemies is part of a gypsy’s life. And, of course, it always makes life itself so much more interesting, no?” He then took John’s hand in his own and shook it firmly. “Gestena, my friend, and please…be safe.” With a last nod to the women, the gypsy turned and strode out of the tavern.

There goes one crazy son of a bitch, he mused, before he dutifully turned his attention to the women standing before him, regarding him anxiously. ‘C’mon, let’s find the ‘Burban and go home,” Tory said. As the trio began to walk out the door, a sudden news announcement from the overhanging television caught their attention…

“Good evening America, I’m Wolf Blitzer here with a Special Report. We have just received reports of a large explosion that was said to have occurred several minutes ago, originating from New York Harbor near Manhattan Island. We have a reporter near the scene to give us some more details. Maria?”

“Thank you Wolf. I’m standing out here next to one of the main entrances to the Port Newark-Elizabeth Marine Terminal. We have yet to hear anything official from the New York Port Authority, but witnesses state that roughly several minutes ago a huge explosion ripped through an as of yet unidentified merchant vessel that was docked nearby. The explosion itself was said to be so huge that it was seen for at least a mile and literally ripped apart the ship, which has now sunk with unconfirmed reports of large casualties involving the crew along with several Port Authority officials. We’ve seen a steady stream of emergency vehicles and Coast Guard vessels racing to the scene within the last several minutes in an apparent effort to get the blaze under control, although they appear to be hampered by the intense blizzard that’s hitting the Northeastern United States along with the below-zero conditions. The cause of the explosion itself remains unknown, although we’re hearing speculation that this may have been an act of terrorism. An interesting thing to note, Wolf, is that we’ve spoken to some nearby dockworkers who claim that they heard what sounded like numerous gunshots before the explosion occurred…”

John turned to gaze sharply at the lovely redhead next to him. “Did Cath mention anything about this?”

Tory shook her head. “No. Wouldn’t surprise me if we were involved though…although I hope to hell not.” She knew better however. Since her time when she had begun working with Avalon Force some time ago, the agent knew that there was rarely ever any such thing as coincidences…

With that, they hastily made their way outside and marched down the snow-encrusted sidewalk into the cold February night.

After the trio found the team’s specially modified Chevy Suburban and climbed into its welcoming interior, Tory revved up the engine and the SUV roared to life. Soon they were on the road, traveling through downtown Boston which had taken on an eerie yet beautiful golden glow from the city lights reflected off of the blanket of snow that had fallen on the cityscape. After negotiating numerous stoplights and city traffic, which remained fairly busy in spite of the snowstorm at this hour, the three finally found themselves northbound on Route 107, heading toward Salem.

As the SUV slowly chugged along the snowy stretch of road, Tory casually gripped the steering wheel and kept an eye on the traffic ahead of her. Even with the special retractable all-terrain spikes built into the Chevy’s tires, one of several “amenities” that she along with several engineers had designed for Avalon Force’s fleet of vehicles, one obviously had to be careful when traversing the notoriously slick roads of New England in the wintertime, especially in a nor’easter blizzard with plenty of lunatic drivers still out and around. John relaxed in the passenger seat, gazing out at the yellow streetlights that flew by in the snowy night, apparently lost in the momentary serenity before him, while Marina did likewise in the backseat. The redhead momentarily checked the digital GPS map display mounted on the dashboard before turning her gaze to the “radio”, which in fact also served as an electronic jammer and spectrum analyzer that could scan all military, federal, law enforcement and EMS channels in addition to the normal civilian radio stations. Soon the radio began to digitally scan through various stations by itself, as though it was being manipulated by unseen hands…

“Just keep your eyes on the road, darlin’,” John said in a warning tone. “I don’t need you gettin’ us into an accident while you were busy hacking into some poor dumb bastard’s database just to get your jollies.”

Tory glanced sideways at John with a faux innocent look. “Moi? I was just checking the local news, John. Paranoid much?” She then shot him a naughty smirk, the kind that she knew annoyed him because it was so irreverent while, at the same time, was so sexy. Then the radio started to play the local news bulletins along with the weather forecast. At that, John smiled and cocked an eyebrow at her, quietly saluting her expertise. Another one of Tory’s unique abilities as a mutant was the power to mentally control any electrical device within proximity of her, as well as the ability to infiltrate, scan and mentally download any database on the planet with her unique computer-like mind. Unquestionably, she was the world’s supreme hacker.

“Or perhaps, as the little witch would say, you should learn to ‘chill out,’ Captain Roper,” Marina offered with a smile of her own, bringing a show of raised eyebrows from both occupants of the front cab.

“Whoa, am I going deaf, or did Dangergirl just use a bit of Earth lingo?” Tory quipped. “Miracles DO happen!”

John pinched the bridge of his nose in resignation, feeling annoyed yet again by Marina’s insistence on referring to him as “Captain Roper”. “I should have my head examined for letting Cath talk me into bringin’ you two with me.”

“Well, it’s not like she was going to have it any other way, John. I think dark elves tend to be stubborn in that regard. Plus Gabby and Sonja mentioned they wanted us to keep an eye on their ‘baby doll,’ too,” Tory cooed sweetly, using a moniker that brought a growl from the man seated next to her.

“Keep waggin’ them tongues darlins’ and you’re gonna find yourself walkin’ home in this crap,” John vowed.

Marina merely snorted in amusement, while Tory offered a role of her eyes. “As if!” After the local weather report that confirmed that there was little more to expect other than wind and snow for the next several days, another news bulletin aired going into more detail on the recent incident in New York Harbor…

“Officials still have yet to issue a statement in regards to the recent explosion involving an apparent merchant vessel docked in New York harbor, although it has just been learned that the merchant ship in question is the Aruj, an Algerian merchant vessel said to have originated from France. Speculation that the incident in fact may indeed be terrorist-related has been fueled due in part to the as yet unconfirmed reports of numerous exchanges of gunfire near the site of the incident, along with several supposed calls for emergency assistance by Port Authority officials before the explosion. The city of New York itself is already on edge since the World Trade Center bombing in 1993 along with last month’s sentencing of one of the bombing’s chief masterminds, Ramzi Yousef. However as of yet, there have been no claims of responsibility for this incident by Al-Qaeda, the radical Muslim terrorist group believed to be connected to the World Trade Center bombings, or any other known terrorist factions for that matter…”

After a brief exchange of looks from the other Suburban’s occupants, Tory mentally shut off the radio and the three rode in silence for a short time, the cab’s windshield wipers keeping its own tempo as they continued to travel through the night. Then Tory glanced sideways at her Immortal friend and fellow agent. “Hey, John…you okay? I mean, really? You seem to be pretty tense tonight. Is everything okay?”

“I’m fine darlin’,” John replied, sighing as he gazed out the window in thought. “Just drive, alright? Don’t be frettin’ none.” He then reached into his jacket and pulled out one of the Dominican colorado claro cigars he was usually fond of smoking, and clenched it between his teeth, before looking for a match…

“Sorry cowboy, rules in this cab are still in effect,” Tory snapped. “You’re not lighting that up in here.”

The mercenary took the cigar out of his mouth before glaring at the redhead in irritation. “It’s just ONE lousy cigar, Tory.”

Tory looked ready to lay down the law before her Amazonian friend beat her to the punch. “I think what Tory is trying to espouse, Captain Roper, is that we are more concerned about our lungs turning black and poisoned from that disgusting habit of yours. Truly, even though you may be Immortal, I consider it a miracle you have not died from smoking those things.”

John shifted to regard the Gaean Amazon with the same irritated expression he gave Tory. “This is just like the crock of bullshit they’re pushin’ around every fucking city in the whole country nowadays. No smoking indoors, no smoking outdoors except in designated areas…it’s getting to be the same kind of bullshit they tried with Prohibition, only with cigarettes and cigars instead. Just another bunch of dickless pricks trying to legislate morality…not that I mean either of you.”

“Sorry, John,” Tory replied with a feint of sympathy, “But times change. Don’t forget what we’re carrying in the back.” She of course was referring to the modified M2 .50 caliber machine gun and the cluster of 40mm high-velocity grenade launcher that sat on an elevating remote-control station hidden underneath the retractable roof of the cab. Then, of course, there was the additional ammunition and personal weapons stored in hidden compartments around the truck.

John however was unimpressed. “Times change, but the bullshit remains the same,” he muttered. Deciding he wasn’t going to win this argument, the Immortal resigned himself to stuffing his cigar back in his coat and watching the nightscape zoom by him. “It would’ve been easier to just put the Ma Deuce and the autoblooper to use on that damn demon earlier, just for your information.”

“Sure, maybe cowboy, but this is Boston, remember? Not Sarajevo. It would’ve been lacking in the ‘subtlety department’, y’know?” Tory continued to focus on the road ahead, before one other question that gnawed at her finally spilled forth. “John? Look, all sarcasm aside, can I ask you a possibly personal question?”

The redhead took a deep breath before finally uttering what was on her mind. “I know it might not be any of my business, but what was it that Alexi said earlier, about Cristina…”

“Just drop it, darlin’,” John growled in a deadly tone, this time no humor in his eyes or gaze whatsoever as he glared directly at Tory.

Tory and her Amazon friend both looked ready to say something more, but decided to turn their attention back to the road instead. When the Immortal was adamant about not discussing a subject, he meant it. The redhead sighed before mentally activating the communications panel that was hidden underneath the radio on the dashboard. A panel slid away revealing a voice scanner and microphone, camera and modem. Tory then spoke into the mic and said, “EVE, activate secure comm link with Avalon HQ. Authorization: Simmons, alpha-three-nine-seven-six-sierra-foxtrot.”

After a moment, a male voice punctuated by static replied through the speaker. “Copy Sigma Six, this is Avalon Com, go ahead.”

“Roger Avalon Base, this is Sigma Six, can you please notify CentCom that we are returning to base, ETA fifty-five minutes, experiencing delays due to blizzard conditions. Also, can you patch me through to the weapons lab?”

“Copy Sigma Six, standby.” Silence momentarily followed, until a melodic female English accented voice, smooth and seductive, purred over the comm. “Hello, Agent Simmons, Sadie here. How is everything? Did your sojourn with Gabby and Sonja’s little boy go well?”

Tory felt some of the tension in the cab drain off as she smirked, knowing that Sadie Wilde was saying that just to annoy the Immortal. She knew the half-faerie witch never missed an opportunity to get under her Immortal friend’s skin any chance she got. As John growled loudly in annoyance, the mutant hacker replied, “Yep, it’s all good, Sadie. Things got a bit rough but we managed. How’s everything there?”

“Well,” Sadie drawled, not missing a beat, “everything’s well here for the moment, other than all the higher-ups are still chattering away in the briefing room while…” Her conversation was cut off momentarily when the sound of shuffling was heard in the background “Grimr…DO be careful where you’re pointing that thing? Sorry, as I was saying, Reed and Alana are in the study at Catherine’s behest doing some research…or so I believe they are.”

“Hot boy and girl action! Hot girl and boy action! Call nine-one-one! RAWK!”

“Sadie, have you got that pirate parrot of yours flapping around the lab again?

Sadie audibly harrumphed over the comm.. “His name is Ruby, remember? As I was saying, the rest of the crew should be arriving back from Gloucester shortly, Evie and Rick among them.” The Suburban’s occupant could almost sense Sadie wincing over the comm. “I must admit, I’m glad I wasn’t part of that little bit.”

“You don’t suppose if Cassidy was still technically a priest he might’ve been able to wed those two back into eternal bliss?” John inquired dryly. Of course he referred to Evelyn and Rick O’Connell, an estranged couple that had one time been composed of a rather unsuspecting though beautiful English scholar and an American mercenary with a talent for getting into situations way over his head. The world of the supernatural however had different plans for the couple, as Evelyn through an odd twist of fate was no longer a “mere mortal” and neither was Rick. Unfortunately, it had all done little to help their married lives as of late.

Sadie seemed to ponder John’s wry question momentarily, before replying, “Well, I’d suppose the poor fellow would be kept more busy exorcising the demons out of their current relationship, if it wasn’t for the fact he was probably more busy exorcising the demons out of some lovely lasses at that party the team attended, as I heard it was quite the ball. Of course, they wouldn’t let me attend the party on my own and stuck me here in the lab with Grimr and the techies making some more ammunition. Lovely evening overall, I’d say. It’s just ducky! Too bad you’ve been missing out on the fun. Except for that bit with what’s occurred over in New York, nasty business, that. Oh, one other thing Tory,” Sadie paused momentarily. “Cath wanted to know whatever information you had on the owners of that website you frequently mention, The Lone Gunman. Does that mean anything to you?”

The redheaded hacker stared at the console in puzzlement, as though she could see Sadie’s face through it. “Uhh, no…not unless Cath is wondering if I’ve been spilling any secrets on the off-topic forums. Why is she asking about them? They’re usually no more oddball than that other site FreakyLinks.” As odd and bizarre the things that Tory and the other agents had encountered in the last year or so seemed, they sometimes seemed to pale in comparison to the fringe conspiracy theories that The Lone Gunman and FreakyLinks often ranted about, although the two admittedly weren’t always as completely off the mark as most people thought...

“Maybe the Lone Gunmen’s theory that the Teletubbies are part of a government conspiracy to brainwash the country’s youth turned out to be right,” John added sarcastically. He’d heard more than his fair share of loony ideas from the website thanks to Tory, which was often a source of laughs for the other agents.

“Hmm, perhaps…although I do say, I think that theory has more credence in regards to Barney the Purple Dinosaur,” Sadie noted with her own touch of well-bred sarcasm. “However, as it were I’m afraid I don’t have any more of a clue as to what’s going on now than anyone else.” Suddenly the witch was interrupted by the unmistakable squawking of Ruby the parrot in the background, along with the equally unmistakable caterwaul of a cat. “Ivory, what are you doing?! Sit, sit! Bad kitty, BAD! No, wait…oh, BLOODY HELL!” The sound of crashing metal rang out from the communicator.

“Uh, Sadie,” Tory began, her eyes narrowing, “You guys didn’t just break any of my stuff, did you?”

The comm was silent for a moment. “Why, no Tory. Don’t fret dear, everything’s fine...”

“Say,” a gruff, male Scandinavian-accented voice spoke up, “Is that little mechanical thingamajig’s leg supposed to dangle like that?”

“Sadie,” Tory growled, “if you’ve messed up one of my gadgets again, I swear I’ll…”

“Oh, sorry, Tory, it seems your signal is breaking up!” Sadie announced a bit too brightly. “Must be the weather! See you when you get here.” And with that the link was terminated.

The vehicle’s three occupants all shared concerned looks before they turned to face the road ahead of them, as they headed toward their destination in the snow-obscured distance.

After another good twenty minutes of maneuvering through icy roads and irate drivers, the trio found themselves entering the quaint town of Salem, Massachusetts. The picturesque New England town, infamous for the witch trials that had occurred there more than 300 hundred years ago, was quiet at this hour, with most of its stores shuttered for the night and its residents and tourists alike already retired for the evening. An occasional car along with a snowplow passed by the agent’s SUV as they rode through downtown Salem, passing by quaint brick store fronts and colonial-era homes before making a short turn toward Salem harbor.

The snow continued to fall, limiting their vision to what lay ahead, yet they could still see the tall masts of various schooners docked within the harbor as they rode by. Several colonial-era homes, one of which was the House of the Seven Gables that had inspired the story of the same name by Nathaniel Hawthorne, stood near the harbor silently. The lights from the town reflected off of the snowy landscape and illuminated the night, once again casting everything in a faint golden glow as they rode on. Soon, after driving along the harbor front, they began to reach the north end of the mouth of Salem Harbor. Off in the distance, a lonely beam of light swept across the snow-obscured night sky, emanating from a lighthouse off in the distance. Soon, the silhouette of the lighthouse was barely visible through the sheet of snow, sitting on its lonely perch along the rocky pine-studded coast of Specter Island.

The local residents of Salem had whispered many a tale of Specter Island, the forbidding stretch of land that stood silently within the Atlantic waters just outside Salem Harbor like a sentinel. Legends abounded that ghosts along with eerie lights inhabited the woods that covered the island, while sea wraiths lurked underneath the choppy waters that lashed against the forbidding rocks. Even more so, there was a rumor that when the witch trial hysteria gripped Salem in 1692, several unknown women along with their families had fled to the island, hoping to escape the wrath of the Puritans who were afraid to venture near it, after another small group of settlers who had attempted to settle there met a mysterious demise. Tales had also been told of pirates that had dumped their treasure within a cove on the island, then later coming back hoping to reclaim it, only to never be heard from again. Even more, there had been talk of the vast, imposing house within the woods known as Ravenscroft Manor, built from stone carted over from an ancient stone keep in Cornwall, England. Even now, the manor’s central tower could be seen rising above the trees on the island, appearing almost as much a sentinel as the lighthouse itself.

Regardless of the legends, it was the final stop of John, Tory and Marina’s trip. As they drove along the coastline, the island slowly came further within view. Soon, a lone expanse of bridge, the island’s only visible connection to the mainland, also became visible. A two-story guardhouse, constructed of reinforced brick with windows and an observation post and ringed with low cement barriers, flanked an outer and inner set of heavy steel reinforced gates that blocked the entrance. Except for the guardhouse itself, floodlights illuminated everything else around the only land entrance to the island. A sign erected near the outer gate, illuminated by phosphorous lamps, unassumingly read: SPECTRE ISLAND DEFENSE SUPPORT ACTIVITY. Another sign in more authoritative, big red letters on the gate itself read U.S. GOVERNMENT PROPERTY- TRESPASSING IS PROHIBITED. Tory gently applied the brakes on the Chevy Suburban as it approached the guardhouse, bringing it to a slow crawl as it approached the outer gate. The heavy barred gate, strong enough to stop a standard SUV, rolled open allowing the vehicle through before it shut behind them, effectively locking them within the parameter of the gatehouse. Two armed guards in dark uniforms with matching parkas, fur caps and Heckler & Koch MP5 submachine guns approached the vehicle, with one of them motioning for them to lower their windows, while the other spoke into a two-way radio clipped onto his belt.

It all seemed innocent and routine enough, but the occupants of the Suburban knew better. Right now they knew that the third guard who watched from behind the bulletproof glass of the first floor of the guardhouse had one hand on the panic button that would activate a popup anti-vehicle barrier from the ground, while his other hand was likely resting on a Benelli semi-auto shotgun hot-loaded with jacketed tungsten steel slugs, the armor-piercing type designed to penetrate car doors and engine blocks. There was another guard watching from a bulletproof window on the second floor armed with a modified SR-25 sniper rifle. On the island itself, there were at least two marksmen armed with .50 caliber Barrett sniper rifles, and another team manning a BRG-15 machine gun that could spit out 15.5mm shells capable of destroying a standard armored personnel carrier. All the gunners likely had their sights locked onto the SUV.

Tory rolled down the tinted window as one of the guards, whose stern yet handsome-looking face was visible in the light from the overhead lamps, walked up to the driver’s side of the vehicle whilst gently cradling the MP5 submachine gun in his hand. “Good evening, ma’am,” the guard spoke in a courteous yet firm tone. “May I see your identification please?”

Tory simply nodded and pulled out a government identification card. “X-Ray Six, Agent Tory Simmons,” she replied as she handed the card to him, speaking the given code for the day to identify herself and the passenger as friendlies. John and Marina also produced similar cards of their own and passed them to the guard as well, who checked each of them utilizing a portable card reader he carried with him. The second guard continued to watch with the business end of his submachine gun in a relaxed, yet ready position. Unseen but sensed by Tory, an electronic voice scanner was also attached to the reader, enabling the guard to analyze Tory’s speech patterns while several infrared video cameras nearby scanned the SUV and it’s occupants. After a moment the guard shared a look with his comrade, who’d been talking with the main security station on the island that had scanned the SUV and it’s occupants. After he received a subtle “all’s well” hand signal from him, the guard nodded and handed back the ID cards. “Thank you, ma’am, the snow’s coming down heavy but we’ve got the snowplow keeping the road open, just be careful. Have a pleasant evening.” The redhead nodded her thanks and rolled up the window, while the guard spoke into his own radio. Soon enough the inner gate cranked open and the three were on their way, with the SUV’s tires crunching snow underneath as it moved across the stone bridge that was infamously known as “Widow’s Bridge” after the legend of a grieving widow that had leapt to her death from the old stone expanse. It remained virtually unchanged except for the recent addition of several manhole-like covers spaced along the bridge expanse, which concealed plastique explosive charges powerful enough to level the bridge along with anything on it.

“Secret passwords,” John muttered disgustedly. “And here I was thinking I’d put that shit behind me. Some things never change.”

“Really?” Tory inquired innocently. “Like you, perhaps?” She once again shot him her irreverent-yet-sexy patented smirk, bringing a frown from John in reply, although she could see a twinkle in his eye as well.

The Suburban finally reached the island proper before reaching yet another gate, which cranked open allowing them to proceed further along an expanse of road ringing the outside of the island, passing along tall imposing pine trees on their left while they could hear the icy ocean waves smashing against the coastal rocks to their right. After several minutes the lone, two-centuries old lighthouse loomed before them, jutting up from the rocks like a sentinel. A fenced-off lodge and vehicle shed stood off to the side, with several windows lit from which figures could be seen peering through the windows. As the agents drove by they noticed the silhouettes of several armed guards as they stood watch at different points around the lighthouse complex. One could have easily missed them within the snowy haze, except for a brief flash of light from one as though he were lighting a cigarette. Tory made a turn to the left and bypassed the lighthouse, entering a road that led into the woods itself. As they drove through it appeared as though the trees themselves were closing in on the vehicles, the road becoming narrower. John was silently grateful that he wasn’t claustrophobic as the trees hung over them, until what appeared to be a dead end appeared in front of them. Any other man or woman would have presumed this to be just that and turned around, but Tory instead simply drove on, straight into the trees themselves…

Instead of smashing into a tree trunk and crushing them like sardines, the Suburban melded directly into the tree, the surface of the mystical illusion barely rippling before the vehicle emerged on the other end, completely unscathed. The entire illusion was one of several woven and cast by Nimbus as well as the other powerful spellcasters that composed Avalon Force. Where there should have been trees, rather instead stood a ten-foot tall, imposing stone wall topped by sharp iron spikes whose points were shrouded in the falling snow. At several points along the wall were erected multi-vision CCTV cameras that remotely scanned the perimeter, along with a set of infrared laser tripwires that were strung along the spikes. A large elaborately wrought iron gate set into the wall before them swung open as though of it’s own accord, allowing the agents to pass through onto the other side. As they did so, a large asymmetrical, Gothic mansion composed of peaked roofs, vaulted windows and crenellated turrets, dominated by an imposing central tower that rose above the rest of the house, slowly came into view of the headlights…Ravenscroft Manor, the home of Avalon Force.

Hewn from ancient stone, the brooding residence had sat on Specter Island for at least two and a half centuries, if not longer. Deceptively quiet from the outside, the imposing residence had seen over two centuries of tumultuous and bloody conflict between various forces that had fought to control of the island, the manor, and all the secrets within.

“Home sweet home,” Tory chirped as they drove through the expansive lawn, decorated by several aging Greco-Roman statues, shrubs and a fountain that was enshrouded by snow. Off to the right, a large carriage house sat near the manor which led to the motor vehicle pool and underground hangar down within the expansive caverns beneath the earth, while off to the left in a clearing sat two MH-60L Pave Hawk helicopters, their dark hulls contrasting with the fresh encrusted snow. Each of the helicopters bristled with machine guns, autocannons, missiles and rocket pods, and carried a special-modified electronics and countermeasures suite that matched the Marine One helicopters flown for the President of the

United States

“Yeah, Edgar Allan Poe would’ve loved this place,” John muttered, gazing at the manor that seemed to loom ominously before them in the snowy night.

“Gee, cowboy, I figured you were old enough to almost know Poe, just not really educated enough to actually read him,” Tory cracked, bringing another annoyed look from the Immortal. She then noticed the other Chevy SUV and the BMW car parked nearby the front entrance. “Looks like the rest of the gang is already here.”

“He was a fiction writer and poet from the Nineteenth Century,” Tory continued, as she drove up to the gatehouse-like front entrance to the manor and parked the Suburban. “He wrote really scary stuff like ‘The Fall of the House of Usher’, ‘The Pit and the Pendulum’, ‘The Cask of Amontillado’, ‘The Tell-Tale Heart’…”

“Oh yes, now I remember!” Marina replied brightly as they stepped out of the vehicle. “I remember reading some of his works along with others recommended by Mr. Duncan, when I wanted to learn more about the English literary works of this planet.” The raven-haired beauty then pursed her lips in a sensual manner, once more catching John’s eye as they slammed the doors shut. “However, in that story ‘The Tell-Tale Heart’, I fail to understand why the main character of that story would do something as messy as cut that poor man into little pieces?”

“Easy darlin’, because the man was insane and a complete nut…much like old Poe himself,” John said as they ascended the short granite steps to the main, high-arched door of the manor.

“Actually, what I meant to ask was, why cut the body into little pieces? Why not just submerge the entire body in acid…”

“That’s beside the point, Dangergirl!” Tory snapped. “Look, no more Poe for you, okay?! Ask Reed if they’ve got any Harlequin books in the library, or something.”

“Actually Marina raises a good point,” John concurred dryly. “Acid’s the best way to go, I had to do that a few—“

This time Tory threw her friend a thoroughly disturbed look. “The same goes for YOU, cowboy!”

As the three finished ascending the snow-encrusted steps to the main double doors, the landing underneath their feet began to glow a faint golden color. Soon, the outline of a five-pointed pentagram became visible underneath their feet as the mystical sigil thrummed with life. Two hunched, winged gargoyles made of ancient stone that sat over the gatehouse began to twitch and move, ever so slowly. The eyes of the two creatures began to glow with an eerie red color as they seemed to shift their gaze to the three agents who stood outside the doors.

“Niiiice doggies,” Tory whispered aloud, as she after all this time still oddly felt a little creeped out by the stone creatures that formed part of the unique security system of Ravenscroft manor. Quite literally, it was a blend of both modern high-tech and ancient mystical protections, designed to literally deal with any threat in the most aggressive manner. After a moment, the glow from the sigil subsided as the magickal ward recognized the individual auras of each of the agents, and the gargoyles seemed to revert to their natural, unassuming sitting positions. With a slight hiss, a panel opened to the right of the doors, revealing both a retinal scanner and a handprint scanner, side by side.

“WELCOME TO RAVENSCROFT MANOR,” a female computer voice intoned. “PLEASE PROVIDE RETINAL AND HANDPRINT IDENTIFICATION, PLEASE.”

“You can do the honors this time, el capitan,” Tory muttered, gesturing to the scanner. John simply shrugged and nodded, and walked up to the scanners and prepared to lean over, before noticing that Tory was whispering something to Marina, causing the tall statuesque beauty to bring a hand to her mouth to stifle a chuckle. After glaring at the two women for a moment, and receiving only innocent looks in reply, John turned and pressed his right eye and right hand onto the console. A moment passed as the lasers scanned his retina and handprint, and then it was done.

Suddenly, without warning, two self-automated BRG-15 machine guns on hydraulic turret mounts rose out of the nearby bushes from flanking positions and aimed directly at the Immortal, causing him to nearly dive for cover.

“WARNING, INNER PERIMETER AUTOMATED DEFENSE SYSTEMS ACTIVATED,” the female-sounding computer droned, as the weapons idled for a moment, before quietly returning to their dormant positions. “AUTOMATED DEFENSE SYSTEMS DEACTIVATED.”

“Sorry cowboy, didn’t mean to frighten you. Just testing the security,” Tory replied with feigned innocence after receiving a murderous look from John. She then turned to address the small security camera that was positioned above the entrance. “Inner perimeter automated defense systems check complete, thank you EVE.”

The artificial intelligence that served as the main operating program for Avalon Force’s computer network, the brainchild of none other than Tory herself, replied “AFFIRMATIVE AGENT SIMMONS. RETINAL AND HANDPRINT IDENTIFICATION VERIFIED…WELCOME BACK AGENT ROPER.”

The Immortal muttered something inaudible under his breath, although Tory and Marina imagined it was something nasty before the double doors swung open, spilling out an expanse of warm golden light, beckoning to the agents to gratefully enter. As they walked into a large foyer richly appointed with dark inlaid wood, the massive oak doors behind them slammed shut.

“Yoo-hoo, anybody home?” Tory called out cheerfully as they strolled past several marble busts, aged portraits and antique weapons, their footsteps muffled by the plush carpet beneath before they entered a large antechamber. A high vaulted ceiling rose above them decorated by a large chandelier that illuminated the large room and the marble tiles underneath. A massive stairwell led before them up to several passageways that branched out onto the balconies of the visible upper floors above them. To the left and right, arched hallways led to the other numerous rooms of the manor.

The tall redhead glared at the Immortal. “Well, most sane people are usually asleep at this hour, cowboy.”

“I suppose that would basically sum up our state of mind, wouldn’t it, Tory?” A smooth, velvety voice purred behind them. The mutant hacker nearly yelped along with her other comrades before turning around to find a large, muscular demon-like creature with eyes that burned like red hot coals that had appeared out of nowhere. Ebony fur studded its entire body, further lending to its sinister, shadowy appearance.

After relaxing a little, the trio glared at the sudden appearance of the new creature, unimpressed. “By the Gods, Tomas!” Marina growled in a tone that caused shivers to run through Tory and John. “Can you not announce your presence like a NORMAL person?!”

Tomas, the onetime human partner-in-crime of Cath whose soul now resided in the body of a shadow-demon, regarded the three for a moment before snorting in amusement. “Oh, spare me the lecture, Marina! Besides,” He added, leaning in to leer a bit more appreciatively at both of the women’s lovely physiques framed in their form-fitting armor, “a good scare here and there always gets the blood pumping. Not to mention for a woman, it helps to add a bit more color to her already rosy cheeks, as well as setting her points way up high.” He then smiled mischievously as he ogled their chests…well…as well as a shadow demon could smile.

Tory just rolled her eyes in response. “In your dreams, bub.” She then noticed several dried crimson stains on his fur. “Tomas, are you hurt? What happened up in Gloucester?”

The shadowy figure put on an expression of faux astonishment. “Why, Tory, you DO care! How nice!” After noticing Tory’s look of genuine irritation, the human/demon became more serious. “Don’t worry, love, it’s not mine. And the others are fine, relatively speaking.” His face then brightened considerably as he went on. “But it was so much fun! It’s not often that I get to go to a black-tie dinner with two luscious women in revealing evening dresses, only to be granted a feast of the eyes with even more luscious women in revealing evening dresses!” The shadow demon’s enthusiasm seemed to resemble more of a hormonal American teenager for a moment, before becoming a bit more subdued. “Of course, it was fun until all hell broke loose, literally. The situation over there got a bit…messy I’m afraid, but we all managed to ‘handle’ it.”

“Good to know. Did you just teleport here by yourself or is anyone else lurking around?”

“I would wager that would be a ‘yes’”, Marina observed dryly. The four of them looked up to see Sadie Wilde, the “governess” of Ravenscroft Manor, leap over one of the upper balconies…only to gently float in midair. With her arms spread wide and her shimmering golden hair fluttering around her shoulders, the half-faerie witch levitated downward before gently alighting on the ground before the others.

“Oh, Sadie, what a grand entrance, I’m almost impressed,” Tomas replied with a mock yawn.

“Hush, Tomas,” Sadie warned playfully with an air of aristocratic demeanor. “Or we’ll need to throw you back in your cage.” As usual, in spite of her aristocratic upbringing, the fetching beauty was dressed in an entirely un-aristocratic fashion. The black, nearly sheer silk jacket she wore did nothing to hide her current fashion sense: A custom-fitted leather corset that showed the gentle rise and fall of her ample cleavage hugged her figure perfectly, a shiny black leather miniskirt was arranged tightly around her shapely hips, and her long luscious legs rode on knee-length, tight glossy black stiletto boots. A black choker with a shimmering red jewel around her delicate throat completed the outfit…along with a more apparent “decoration”, a very businesslike OA-93 machine pistol that had been customized by the witch and carefully sat in a holster on her leather belt.

Naturally, no matter how many times he’d already seen Sadie before over the past century in plenty of other “fetching” outfits, John still couldn’t help but gape for a moment, as he suspected any man would. The witch had a bit of reputation for playing up to the fantasies of men, and occasionally women whenever she so desired, and John was no exception, considering they’d known each other on an on-off intimate basis for more than a century. “As the Americans would say,” she had once said with a devilish yet cunning smile, “If you’ve got them, flaunt them!”

Of course, Sadie tonight seemed her usual self as she regarded the Immortal with a sensual smile that belied a hint of her usual mischief. “Hello everyone, and…hello John,” she said softly as she sauntered over to him, her leather miniskirt caressing her thighs with each step. “I’m glad to see you back. It seems you and your friends had a bit of a tussle…I trust you’re well?”

John cleared his throat for a moment, noticing the annoyed glare from Tory nearby. “Hello Sadie, glad to see you too. A bit chilly tonight to be dressed like that, isn’t it?” He, with a limited degree of success, tried not to stare at the luscious cleavage and shapely curves that were accentuated by the black corset that hugged her figure. The corset was clearly no mere decoration, however, as the enchanted runes that glowed just faintly beneath the glossy sheer of the leather showed it to be a powerful item of arcane defense as well…not to mention the enchanted stiletto that was hidden underneath between her breasts, a nasty weapon that more than one unwanted suitor had died upon.

The half-Leanan Sidhe witch’s mesmerizing amber orbs seemed to sparkle with mischief at John’s comment. “Oh, it is indeed chilly tonight, John. That’s why I was hoping I could warm things up a little,” she added with deceptive innocence as she carefully posed to allow a slightly better view of her luscious form to the men and women before her. “Besides,” she added in a softer, more seductive tone as she ran a hand in a discreetly provocative manner down the front of the corset to her miniskirt, “dressing in this manner helps stimulate my…creative juices as it were, darling.”

Tory suddenly got in front of him to glare at Sadie, hands on her slim hips. “Excuse me, Sadie, that’s nice and all, but I’m going to assume you didn’t break anything in the lab while I was gone…DID YOU?” The hint of a threat was heard in Tory’s voice.

The witch took a moment to clear her throat. “Well, technically speaking, as you would say, nothing’s broken…”

“What she means to say, is that darling little gadget critter with the multiple legs that you’ve toiled over endlessly in the labs just became a handicap,” a new gruff male voice, sounding old and authoritative like hardy weathered stone, yet laced with energy and mirth, called out from one of the adjoining hallways. Everyone turned to see Grimr Steinmoor, the old duergar from the frozen lands of Scandinavia, walk into the foyer with the hint of a mischievous smirk on his face. The overhead lights from the chandelier shone on the bullish-looking dwarf’s balding, tattooed head and dark trimmed beard, illuminating a set of eyes that were centuries old, yet were still sharp and lively, belying a keen intellect and a wicked, if not twisted sense of humor. Though somewhat short in stature when compared to most human males, the five-foot-four heavily-muscled agent made up for his status of being “vertically challenged” by wading through hordes of enemies with a battle axe in one hand and an assault rifle in the other with a death’s grin on his face. In the days of the Viking raiders, they would have thrown feasts in his honor. Nowadays most people thought he was just a little mad, if not completely crazy.

Before anyone could say hello to the dwarf, Tory whirled and glared at the blonde witch again with murder in her eyes. “You hurt my little Elmo?!” She almost shrieked, seeming to grow nearly a foot taller in front of everyone.

“Who…or what the hell is Elmo?” John said to Marina in a hushed voice, obviously puzzled. The Gaean Amazon merely shrugged, apparently just as confused as he was.

“Ah, Tory, do you remember my suggestion about switching to decaffeinated coffee?” Sadie spoke politely yet firmly, hands on her hips as she steadily regarded the redhead with her golden orbs. “Don’t worry about your ‘pet, we’ll patch him back together in no time…”

“Yeah, well, if I happen to see your pet anywhere, Goldeneye, he’s gonna become a late night dinner, GET IT?!”

As if on cue, a distinct whistling of a bird could be heard before a red-plumed, green-bodied Amazon parrot flew down from above and landed on Sadie’s shoulder. Jade, the witch’s longtime parrot familiar who seemed to take after his mistress in terms of saucy language, spoke “Hello Major Buns, flash your guns! No skin means no win!”

Tory narrowed her eyes dangerously at the bird. “Y’know, I’m really hungry for some French poulet right now, little birdy.” The parrot squawked with fright and beat its wings rapidly as it fluttered behind Sadie, who glared back at the comely redheaded tech with her amber orbs that began to glow menacingly with power.

“Touch even one of Jade’s feathers, missy, and I’ll banish you to Haeven where the greatest technological wonder you’ll ever get to see again is the wheel, do you understand?!”

“Oh yeah?! How’d you like it if I just happened to ‘accidentally’ delete your entire British punk rock collection?”

Now the witch’s eyes went wide with fright, something that Tory noticed with smug satisfaction. “You wouldn’t!”

Steam almost appeared to come out of Sadie’s ears, before she noticed the evil grin on Grimr’s face out of the corner of her eye. “Enjoying the theatrics, little geezer?” she snapped.

Grimr regarded the blonde witch with a sardonic grin. “Of course! Two beautiful women ready to tear each other’s hair out? This is better than the trailer park trash on Jerry Springer, and without the cellulite thighs and missing teeth! Now if I only had some popcorn!”

At that moment, a wicked smile spread across her beautiful face. “Keep this up, Grimr dear,” she purred, “and I’ll cast a spell that prevents you from even remotely achieving an erection for the next century, assuming you’ve even been lucky in this one, of course.”

Nearby, Tomas roared with laughter as the short, muscled dwarf’s scalp became beet red as blood boiled up to his face, causing the various bluish tattoos on his scalp to stand out even more. “Oh please,” Tomas chuckled, “the little man cannot even land himself a blind date nowadays even with a burlap sack over his head!”

The dwarf glared at the shadow demon with murder in his eyes. “YOU can’t even get a woman at all in your current state, you demon-hide wearing PUSSY!”

“Ha!” Tomas barked, as he struck a comically self-effervescent pose, with his dark-furred thickly muscled arms poised like an Olympic strongman. With a sudden blur, he changed into the illusion of a dark-skinned mustachioed, handsome fellow wearing casual street wear with bulging muscles. “For your information, my sad little chum, women cannot resist my demonic charms. They yearn and mewl to simply feel my touch, which excites them in ways that no gentleman could ever discuss in polite company, of course.” Tomas morphed back into the sinister shadow-beast he was, before grinning sardonically and gestured at his well-defined rear with a talon-tipped claw for a hand. “Kiss my demonic, yet well-defined arse, you chav!”

At that, Grimr roared like an angry berserker. “Better a man kiss your arse than a woman kiss you on your gaping cesspit of a mouth!” At that, fur and fists began to fly as the dwarf launched headfirst at Tomas. The shadow demon simply vanished and reappeared nearby, laughing as the dwarf sprawled on the marble floor, only to get a boot to the face. Meanwhile, Tory and Sadie began a shouting and shoving match, with Jade nearby flapping his wings and squawking with panic.

John simply shut his eyes before he pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration, while Marina watched with a comically perplexed look on her face. “I just hate family gatherings,” the Immortal mercenary muttered under his breath.

Just before the army captain belted out an order, a highly-cultured, educated male English voice beat him to the punch. “Ahem, if you children are quite finished, you should know that Catherine IS waiting for us.” The group turned in the middle of their antics to regard Reed Duncan, the middle-aged scholarly mage and researcher, with books in tow striding toward them from the direction of the study. Next to him strode the homo magus spellcaster, Alana, the overhead lights illuminating the twenty-year old woman’s fiery red hair and emerald eyes. The Englishman was dressed in his usual tweed attire, tie and all, while Alana, in sharp contrast, was dressed in the costume she typically wore when she worked in public as a stage magician and illusionist. She wore a white silk corset with generous cleavage that traced her round breasts and slim hips to perfection, topping a red satin undergarment that outlined her shapely behind. Smooth fishnet stockings that seemed to glitter almost magically encased her long shapely legs that rode on sharp red stiletto-heeled shoes. Finally, a dark blue, debonair tailcoat completed the outfit. The young redhead loved to mess with her audience’s minds, weaving real magick and illusions alike to confound many, while mesmerizing the younger hormonal members of the audience with her dazzling outfit.

Tomas and Grimr stood up and dusted themselves off, contritely apologizing to each other as though they were brothers in just another bout of silly fisticuffs. Sadie and Tory likewise regarded each other before turning toward the duo. “Hi, Reed, Alana,” Tory said, brushing past the others. “How’re you two holding up?”

“Oh, we’re fine, Tory, thanks for asking,” Alana piped up. “Cath had us researching various megalithic dolmens from Scandinavia and also some other stuff on Nordic runes. Kinda neat but kinda boring, too.” She quickly shot a surreptitious glance at John before giving him a knowing wink and a coy smirk, indicating she knew that John felt they had been up to more than just mere research, particularly with the woman dressed in her outfit. The Immortal quietly cleared his throat.

“Really?” Tomas inquired, not missing a beat. “It sounded to my acute ears like you two were engaged in some engrossing study of the Kama Sutra as well.” Reed and Alana blushed together deeply while there were a few soft chuckles.

“Diddle love vertically! Diddle love horizontally! Everyone’s a winner, RAWK!” The parrot’s saucy remark brought an uncharacteristic growl from the Englishman, as eldritch energies began to crackle between his fingertips.

“Well, Cath did provide a few pictures of what was of interest to her,” Alana continued, hoping to change the subject so there wouldn’t be a casualty in the hall. “Couldn’t really draw much from it, although it does seem a bit…I don’t know…weird.” The redheaded beauty who hailed from the fabled land of Shangri-La allowed a smirk to form in the corner of her delectable little mouth. “And I know that’s odd coming from me.” She then pulled out a couple of drawings wedged between two leather-bound books she carried and showed them to the others, who drew in for a closer look. Detailed in the two black-and-white pictures were what appeared to be the front and back side of a jagged piece of dark onyx-like stone, with a nearby metric ruler in the photographs showing it to be roughly a few feet wide and more than several feet in height. In one picture, runes along with several nearly indecipherable carvings could be made out on the smooth face of the stone, while in another picture the other side of the stone was shown to be jagged and broken, the design suggesting it was part of some larger piece of stone that might have been in some sort of monolithic shape. Upon closer inspection the runes seemed to take on an eerie sense, as though whatever had carved them, and in what language, did not seem human by nature. The very contours of the glyphs bent and twisted in a fashion that seemed to provoke pain and unease, as several of the agents felt oddly queasy, forcing them to look away.

“Well, other than those royally messed-up looking carvings in that one picture, it looks like a fragment of a rune stone of some kind to me,” Tory muttered, her brow furrowed as she looked closer at the runic carvings. “Weird though, I don’t recall many of them being carved from onyx or any such material like that.”

“In fact, yes, that’s what it appears to be,” Reed concurred. “The runes appear similar to the Elder Futhark alphabet which, if correct, would most probably mean it originated in Scandinavia somewhere between the Second and Eighth Centuries A.D. However, these illustrations on the other side do seem a bit odd, however. The manner these runes are drawn are rather odd as well.”

Tomas rolled his eyes. “Come now, my stuffy Earth-born British friend, if it wasn’t odd, bizarre, or just simply…sex-ay,” he huffed with mock importance, bringing an embarrassed blush to the Englishman’s cheeks, “then why, pray tell, would you even be researching this to begin with?”

“Because it’s not any language I recognize, you dirty little ferret,” Reed growled, causing the shadow demon to cock an eyebrow, or what passed as an eyebrow, rather comically at the scholar. The Englishman then gently cleared his throat. “Ahem, as I was saying, I haven’t seen any other rune stones quite like this in the Scandinavian region. And I can’t imagine for the life of me why Cath had us research the various dolmens found in the area as none of them would normally feature this type of…ah, material, since the runes in their written form didn’t originate until much later. Grimr, Sadie, what about you?”

Everyone turned to regard the dwarf and the half-Leanan Sidhe witch, who both seemed fixated on the morbid-looking carvings before turning their attention to the other agents. “Eh? Hmmm…no,” the dwarf replied in a distracted fashion. “The runes appear familiar, but…this doesn’t appear anything like what the Norsemen or my old kinfolk would have made.” The bearded fellow furrowed his eyebrows for a moment, before shaking his head. “Strange…”

Sadie nodded also in agreement. “As scary as it may sound, I think the old fart is right. Odd, though. As morbid as it appears, I wonder if it’s something from one of the Faerie clans, perhaps?”

Grimr turned to glare at Sadie again. “Lass, if you’re going to call someone ‘old fart’, then save it for that overblown, over-hyped, over-fucked mage Merlin, not me! I’m old, yes, but still lively enough to make any woman shout out my name at night,” he added with his finger pointed toward his manhood for emphasis.

Sadie took a moment to chance a glance down below his belt, before innocently turning to gaze elsewhere with a mock look of pity. “Hmm, that’s not quite what I’ve heard…”

Tory wisely took the initiative before the fracas escalated. “Well, researching stuff like this in a musty, dusty library sounds preferable to what we had to deal with earlier,” Tory replied with a sigh. “Captain Cowboy over here,” she indicated John with a jerk of her thumb, “had us strolling around a cemetery in the dead of night where we ran into a freaking Dearg-Dul.”

“A Dearg-Dul, really?” Reed inquired, his eyes lighting up immediately like a little boy in a candy store. The scholarly fellow was well-known for having a love affair when it came to conducting research on just about any occult subject. “Fascinating. I haven’t heard of any occurrences of that particular creature here in North America, by chance did you—“

“Er, sweetie,” Alana interrupted, her exquisite, almost delicate face set in an apologetic expression, “I don’t mean to spoil your fun, but like you said, we should go see what Cath wants to talk to us about first, remember?” After a reluctant nod from her lover, Alana turned to the group. “Don’t know what exactly Cath had us doing this stuff for but she’s been cooped up in the main hall for a while now with her snuggle-bunny Jason and the others. I think Rick, Evie, Alek, Anna and Cassidy are waiting for us there, too, so let’s go.”

As the group turned to head toward the main hall that doubled as the briefing room, Reed said, “Ah, Alana, I don’t think it’s proper to refer to Jason as Catherine’s ‘snuggle-bunny’. I think his alter-ego, Nimbus, along with Catherine might take offense to that….”

Alana shrugged. “Maybe, but it’s not like it’s a secret or anything. Besides,” she smiled softly, instantly stealing the Englishman’s heart yet again, “you’re my snuggle-bunny, aren’t you?”

Reed blushed once again, briefly before smiling and pressed a little closer together as they strode down the corridor. “Yes, I suppose you could say that…”

“You two need to get a room,” John noted with a hint of disgust as he strode next to them.

Reed shot the Immortal a disapproving frown. “Pardon me, Captain Roper, but unlike you, I consider myself a man of good taste, not given to debase either my lady or myself.” The Englishman tried to ignore the mocking chuckle from Tomas nearby.

“I didn’t think you were capable of debasing anything Reed, on account of how stiff your ass already is,” John replied sarcastically.

The Englishman’s eyes narrowed dangerously, before receiving a reassuring squeeze from the redheaded beauty who strode arm in arm with him. “Don’t mind him, Reed, he’s just having another one of his mood swings.” The other agents quietly chuckled in amusement as they headed toward the conference room.

The group made their way down the marble-tiled hallway, passing several aging suits of armor, marble statues and Oriental vases. At the end of the corridor sat another set of double doors, by which stood three rugged men and a lovely women talking. One of the men appeared to be a tall, handsome, youthful man with sandy brown hair, dressed in what had once been a black-tie dinner jacket and trousers, but had definitely seen better days as it was now marked with several rips and tears, along with two Para Micro-Uzi machine pistols that were stuffed in cross draw holsters. The man’s own chiseled face was slightly blackened with soot, and it seemed an annoyed expression as he faced a very beautiful woman with long dark hair that flowed down a little past her shoulders, and bewitching dark eyes. She was dressed in a dark blue evening dress that was also a bit worse for wear as several small lengths of the dress had been ripped away, although in her case it further served to highlight the woman’s slim figure and enticing legs. Several small, twinkling bronze charms of Egyptian origin could be seen on her, along with a barely-concealed P7M13 pistol and several daggers.

“Okay, how are we gonna go about this? Right, short, simple and to the point,” Rick O’Connell muttered with his arms folded, as he faced the woman who had more-or-less been the love of his life, Evelyn Carnahan. The American who had been both an explorer and gun-for-hire throughout the Twentieth Century had a knack for getting into situations over his head, such as the current spat with his estranged wife. “Evie, for the twelfth time, I was not reckless, okay? Everything was under control…right before the bad guys started throwing lightning bolts and fireballs at us, anyway…”

“Of course,” Evelyn scoffed with her own arms folded in an equally stubborn display. “And I suppose if pigs had wings they would be eagles, wouldn’t they?” The woman sighed in disgust. Ever since a fateful trip to a mythical city in

Egypt

long ago, 1926 to be exact, life hadn’t been the same for either one. Rick had later discovered he was a sort of mystical warrior called a medjai, while Evelyn had discovered she was the reincarnation of an ancient Egyptian princess and had been briefly slain, only to be later resurrected in an altered, far more powerful state of being. Unfortunately, the streak of mysticism that seemed to run throughout their now immortal lives had done little for their marital relationship…

Unfettered, Evelyn continued her side of the argument. “It was a delicate situation that required subtlety, Mister Rick O’Connell, not a bunch of men playing cowboys! Cassidy and I had cast the necessary spells to take down those black magicians when you and your werewolf friend here,” she indicated with a sweep of her eyes toward Aleksandr Vasilyev, the former Spetsnaz GRU commando and werewolf from Siberia who was dressed in AF’s custom armor, “decided to flash your guns and turn the entire place into a shooting gallery!”

Alek shrugged. The six-foot four-inch bear of a man with bullish features, who looked ready to ram his head through a concrete wall was rather nonchalant about his work, whether it was shooting his enemies up with an FN MAG machine gun or rending them to bits with his claws in his towering werewolf form. “I am the heavy weapon man of the group, da? If shit hits the brick, as you say, then I come out and start shooting and ripping, it’s what I do.”

“Aw think you meant to say, ‘shit hits the fan’, Alek,” Cassidy Williams, the former U.S. Army Special Forces medic and chaplain, muttered lowly with his usual soft Southern twang. Cassidy had been one of the more unlikely members of the team, growing up part of his life in one of the infamous snake handler sects dotted throughout rural

America

. After having some rather unusual encounters of his own with the supernatural and the bizarre, the former priest had become an expert himself in various forms of ceremonial magick and exorcisms, as well as keeping a good shooting arm and coming to appreciate the rites, prayers and incantations to numerous deities. “It never hurts to have more than a couple of gods willing to watch your ass,” he’d once remarked dryly.

“You know, I couldn’t help but notice you did take a bit of your own sweet time exorcising all the demons out of those young ladies,” Rick remarked with a raised eyebrow, drawing a glare in response from Evelyn.

“I may be a priest, Rick, but that sure as hell don’t make me any less human,” Cassidy shot back. His own armor was visibly stained with patches of blood and soot like all the others, along with traces of burnt cordite that still hung in his gray hair and well-groomed mustache. “And I would never take advantage of a woman like that. Hell, at least I don’t keep running around all the time like Alek looking for some Budweiser beer keg and some blonde filly to steal.”

Aleksandr grimaced. “What? Oh, please! As if I would ever drink any of that cheap swill! How you Americans call that piss beer is beyond me!”

“Men,” Evelyn muttered, “always behaving like children. Wouldn’t you agree, Anna? Anna??” Evelyn and the others looked around, noticing the other female agent with them appeared to be missing. “Anastasia, for goodness’s sake stop hiding, will you?”

Several feet away from Evelyn, the faint ghostlike outline of a woman, slender with athletic curves, began to appear against the carved oak panels of the hallway. Soon the image coalesced into the form of a beautiful auburn-haired woman dressed in her own form-fitting variant of AF’s body armor. The lights from the elegant chandeliers of the hallway highlighted the sensual yet athletic curves of the woman that were displayed thanks to the armor, albeit with signs of battle like the others.

“I wasn’t hiding, Evie,” Anastasia Provana said in a Slavic-accented voice, grimacing slightly. “I was just hoping to stay out of the crossfire.” Anna, as most of the other AF agents called her, tended to be a bit more reserved than the others, but that made her no less dangerous. The product of a secret psychic development program in the waning days of the Cold War, Anna was a sort of “psychic super-spy.” She could telekinetically bend light around her form to render herself invisible at will, not to mention use that selfsame telekinesis to snap bones like twigs, create force fields, and guide stray bullets straight and true into a foe’s skull. Coupled with her espionage and combat skills, Anna’s looks could kill, figuratively and literally. “Fortunately it seems the rest of the party has arrived,” she said with a bit of relief, as she gestured to the group that came to meet them in the hall. “I rather wish you had arrived here sooner, John.”

“Believe me, Anna, I would’ve been here sooner if it’d meant I’d spend less time listenin’ to these two loony birds constantly yap,” John replied, trying to act casual with a nod of his head toward Tory and Marina, bringing another snort from the Gaean Amazon while the hacker stuck out her tongue. “Heard you folks had some action up in Gloucester.”

“To put it mildly, yes,” Anna replied with a touch of aplomb, before setting her eyes on the nonchalant shadow demon who had arrived with the group. “Although it did seem Tomas was more interested in getting some ‘action’ of his own, as it were…”

“Well of course I was!” Tomas spoke in an incredulous tone. “For the love of the Gods, there were all sorts of opportunities waiting at that formal dinner! Of course, I didn’t want to go too far considering that I’m well aware that my own, sweet, dear little Evelyn spends her waking hours sweating and fantasizing about me, of course.” The scandalous rogue seemed, or at least pretended to be unaware that Rick was giving him a look similar to what he gave to most other problems before he solved them, which typically meant filling them with hot lead. Fortunately, his estranged wife wasn’t impressed either and looked mad enough to fry an egg on her head. Undeterred, Tomas went on. “Worry not, Evelyn, my dear, if your husband still harbors his reservations about romance with one of the Undying, your knight in furry demon hide is here to—OW!!” The shadow demon howled and nearly fell on his behind before he grasped his right leg, specifically around the knee where Rick had landed a well-placed kick.

Then, at that moment, the large double doors swung open to reveal a young, sharp cocoa brown-skinned man dressed in a formal U.S. Army dress uniform with an air of intelligence around him. An Army Parachute Badge gleamed on his uniform, along with several ribbons and a gold oak leaf cluster on the lapels of his uniform, indicating the rank of Major.

“Well, you do look rather smashing tonight, Jason, if I do say so myself,” Sadie purred softly.

Major Jason Merwin, Avalon Force’s Assistant Director and military liaison, the living reincarnation of the ancient Lemurian known as Nimbus, and the betrothed of Catherine, offered a smirk in reply. “Thanks, Sadie. Now that you mention it, Cath said the same thing, too,” he noted, gently deflecting Sadie’s casual flirtations. “Hello again, ladies and gentlemen, please come in and excuse the fancy appearance, I had to appear in Washington earlier today with Cath. Ugly business, as usual.”

“Politicians? Eugh,” Tory commented, cringing. “They’re worse than demons.”

“I wouldn’t say that Tory,” John replied dryly. “They’re more like used car salesmen…a whole lot worse.”

As the group began to file in, Sadie held up an elegant yet firm hand and let her parrot familiar climb onto it from her shoulder. “Sorry, Jade, but I think it’s better you wait out here,” she said gently, and let the bird onto the top of a marble bust of a young woman with striking features. “Just hope Kate here doesn’t mind you sitting on her head.” The parrot squawked in a pouting manner, only to be answered with the soft yet dangerous purr of a feline creature. The golden-haired witch looked down to notice a sleek black cat with an uncanny white patch on it’s breast sitting on the floor, gazing upward at the parrot with a coy expression in it’s green cat-eyes. “Don’t worry, I think Ivory here can provide you company, granted you both learn to behave this time,” she added in a stern tone particularly to the cat sith that had inhabited the mansion for almost as long as it had existed. Then with a graceful twitch of her leather-clad behind that rode on her lovely legs, the beautiful witch joined the others as they filed through the doors.

The group entered an imposing great hall that several agents had privately dubbed “conspiracy central”, with walls that were decorated with inlaid wood stretched to the vaulted, plastered ceiling. On one side several arched windows ran along the wall, the frosty window panes offering a glimpse into the snow-filled night. The other side was dominated by several coats-of-arms and portraits of different families that had lived in the manor. Some of the portraits smiled, others scowled, and a few were missing altogether for unsaid reasons. A large roaring fireplace gratefully provided warmth to the large chamber. Situated in the middle of the hall was a long, old and elaborately carved oak table flanked by high-backed chairs and several video screens. Around this table, in some fashion sat the other occupants of the hall…

Major General James Erwin, Jason’s father and the head of the highly secret, clandestine U.S. Army unit “Operations Group Omega”, or Omega Force as it was more commonly referred to, that dealt with just about any threat imaginable to the security of the United States, was visible on one screen, looking sharp, conservative and severe as usual in his own olive-green uniform that matched his own mahogany brown complexion. His usually taciturn countenance seemed softened by the presence of his handsome wife, Ariel, High Priestess of the Wiccan Coven of Light. The middle-aged woman radiated a much more relaxed, matronly presence around her that seemed to contrast with General Erwin’s stern bearing. On another video screen sat none other than the chief executive officers of Xanatos Enterprises, David Xanatos and his wife, Fox. Although he appeared as sharp and immaculate as always with his finely trimmed dark beard and mustache, David appeared to be more stressed and worried than normal that evening, in contrast to the highly intelligent and observant demeanor he normally wore. It seemed to be due in part to the woman that he shared both the video screen and his life with, his wife Fox, appeared to be in a much more worried state than he. The auburn-haired beauty with the unique tattoo of a fox over her right eye had a distraught look on her face. Indeed, the normally cool and calm woman appeared unusually distressed.

Slightly away from the table, almost appearing like a mystical vision, images of the twin rulers of the fabled land of Avalon, Morganne Le Fey and Nimue, illuminated the chamber. The dark-haired sorceress of Arthurian legend and the golden-haired mystic who was the legendary Lady of the Lake appeared in their astral forms, their feet not even touching the ground as one could just barely see through their ethereal forms, although it did nothing to diminish the pair’s striking beauty. Another brunette-haired woman who appeared near the women, but was in fact an incredibly lifelike hologram projected by a hidden camera, sat near Morganne, her own beauty nearly usurping that of the other two women. Morgaine Le Fey, the present ruler of Liechtenstein, Sorceress Supreme of Earth and daughter of none other than Morganne and Merlin, appeared to be sitting demurely in a chair with her legs crossed, her incredibly voluptuous form dressed in the skintight blue and crimson Dreadnaught armor that she herself had designed, the thousands of miniature iron segments that composed the armor’s outer layer almost appearing to shine with a life of their own.

At the table in the great hall sat three other women who were quite real and in the flesh. Gabrielle, the ancient Immortal Queen of the Amazons, Battling Bard and onetime companion of the fabled Greek heroine Xena, was dressed in a more casual fashion, her sweet, almost innocent-looking face and doe-like eyes capped by closely-cropped blonde hair that was feathered at the back. In spite of her deceptively petite appearance, one almost sensed she possessed the strength and power of a lioness as she sat easily in her chair. Next to her sat her longtime companion, battle-mate and current lover, Sonja. The six-foot two-inch tall buxom, angelic-looking warrior whose hair was the color of a raging fire had her hand intertwined with Gabrielle’s in a subtle manner. Though few seemed to truly know just where Sonja originally hailed from, it was generally known that she was ancient, far older than Gabrielle. Any more questions about her past were normally brushed aside and forgotten after a glare and a deadly growl from the fiery-haired woman, whose beauty was surpassed by the awesome power and wrath she displayed in combat.

Finally at the head of the table, next to Jason’s seat, sat the Director of Avalon Force, and member of the United States of America’s National Security Council, the Dopkalfar demi-goddess Cathubodia, known in her human guise and often referred to as Catherine Merwin, Jason’s betrothed. Her silver hair framed a delicate face, dark luminous orbs that belied immense power in their depths, and charcoal-black features that were strikingly beautiful, yet were creased with worry. Her slender frame was dressed in a fashionable Givenchy business suit that fit her well, although it did appear somewhat unusual, considering that she did not presently use her glamour ability to present the illusion of her human disguise but rather appeared in her normal form as one of the feared and fabled dark elves of Norse legend.

“Thank you all for coming at this hour, ladies and gentlemen,” Cathubodia announced regally from the head of the long table. “I know it is late and you wish to retire, but unfortunately, as you may have heard, we have a new situation that has arisen. Please, be seated.”

“Well, I reckon everyone figured you weren’t calling us at this hour just to spit and holler howdy, Cath,” John muttered, attempting to mask the discomfort he felt in the presence of his former flame Morgaine, who had quickly stolen a glance at him before quickly averting her eyes elsewhere.

“Your reasoning is as acute and eloquent as always, Captain Roper,” Cathubodia noted in a dry, slightly amused tone as the other agents found their respective seats along the table. John likewise found his own seat between Alana and Tory, and once again briefly found himself wondering if he was naturally attracted to redheads. He knew that wasn’t entirely the case though, as he found himself stealing another look at Morgaine.

He almost felt tempted to at least try to say hello to her, to the woman that was one of the most powerful sorceresses on earth, as well as an object of unattainable desire by many a man that had gazed upon her, but the icy glare from the sorceress’s mother Morganne appeared determined to quell any such notion. Instead the mercenary quietly resigned himself to drawing the cigar from his jacket that he’d meant to smoke earlier before he began to search once again for a match. His attempt to keep himself busy didn’t stop him from remembering that one sentence Morgaine had uttered to him so long ago: It was only several years ago in fact, with the two of them alone in an apartment in New York in the winter of ’95. Snow was falling outside as the two had their bodies pressed against each other after an evening of ferocious, uninhibited lovemaking that was meant to be their last time, before Morgaine whispered a tear-streaked confession to him…

And then a sniper’s bullet shattered the window behind her, entering and exiting through her right abdomen, splattering his face with her blood…

The Immortal blinked once, then twice before he regained his surroundings. He noticed Cathubodia, who sat across the table and gazed at him with a look of concern. John quietly waved her off then resumed searching through his jacket for a match. With no luck, he quietly cursed to himself before Alana easily leaned over and crooked out her index finger, from which spouted a small flame that danced on her fingertip, as though by magic, or magick as Alana and the other spellcasters usually referred to it. John gratefully leaned over to light his cigar, only to have Alana yank her finger away.

“Do you promise to not be a grouch and be a good puppy?” Alana inquired in a slightly teasing voice, although the expression in her emerald eyes indicated she was dead serious. Duncan likewise fixed John with his own stern gaze as well.

John almost appeared ready to belt out a retort before he controlled his tongue. “I promise…for now.”

The homo magus laughed musically at him. “I’m just kidding, John. I’ll take your word…for now,” she said in a perky fashion, apparently hoping to brighten his spirits before crooking out her finger again to light his cigar. The Immortal mercenary quietly tipped his cigar to her and Reed before relaxing in his chair. Opposite from him, Sadie proceeded to light a cigarette with a silver lighter before quietly withdrawing it, then blowing a small cloud of smoke into the air, followed by Aleksandr who’d lit one of his own. The other agents settled down while Jason did likewise next to his Cath, taking one of her delicate charcoal-colored hands and intertwining her fingers with his own while the silver helm of the ancient Lemurian mystic, Nimbus, sat nearby on the table next to Jason, ready for action.

“Do you take that fancy spittoon of yours to the john, too, Jace?” John inquired sarcastically, knowing that Jason was rarely, if ever seen without it. Of course, he knew better. When Jason had been with the Army Rangers during the Gulf War, the young officer along with John and several others had stumbled upon a forgotten tomb at an archaeological site deep within the Iraqi desert that had been the intense focus of not only several archaeologists, but a battalion of Saddam Hussein’s Republican Guards as well. After a fierce firefight and the discovery of the tomb, Jason donned the silver helm in wonder, only to find himself transformed into the ancient powerful being known as Nimbus.

“That ‘fancy spittoon’ as you call it, saved your life, John,” Jason noted quietly. It wasn’t long after they’d exited the tomb that they had found themselves caught in the middle of a different kind of war between the fabled djinn, mysterious beings of Arabic lore tasked with guarding the tomb, and a cabal of necromancers aided by an army of undead monstrosities that had sought to claim the helmet for their own. Had it not been for the intervention of Nimbus, none of them would have survived.

“Of course,” John muttered lowly. “I just wish I could say the same for everyone else,” The raid, though successful had come at a cost: Half the Ranger team along with a third of a British SAS team didn’t come home.

“Ahem, if we are ALL situated,” Cath said with a raised, well-groomed eyebrow toward Jason and John, before turning to regard the others in the room, “then I shall relinquish the floor to General Erwin. General?”

General Erwin nodded gravely. “Thank you, Catherine. As you may already know, at about twenty-two forty-five Eastern Standard Time earlier tonight, there was a massive explosion at the Port Newark-Elizabeth Marine Terminal, situated in the New York Harbor area. From what we know thus far, the explosion originated from the Aruj, an Algerian merchant vessel that had just docked that evening after sailing in from the port of Le Havre in

France

. The cause of the explosion remains unknown at this time, however it was apparently powerful enough to literally rip the ship in half and cause immense structural damage to the pier. Two of our Omega teams made an attempt to investigate the wreckage before law enforcement and emergency crews began to appear. So far, according to our teams and from what we’ve gathered from listening to the emergency dispatch reports, there appears to be significant casualties involving the ship’s crew, who remain mostly unaccounted for. Unfortunately we also have several Port Authority officers who are also either dead or missing as well.” The army general nodded on the video screen toward Fox and David. “Mr. and Mrs. Xanatos, would you tell the other agents what you currently know please?”

David shared a look with his wife Fox, who took a deep breath before nodding to her husband then turned to address the assembled agents. “Yesterday, I received a phone call from a distant relative of my family, Jacques Renard.”

“Jacques Renard…I’ve heard of that name before but I can’t place it at the moment.” Duncan said.

Fox nodded. “He was an archaeological professor attached to the Louvre museum in Paris. He was…somewhat like yourself, Mr. Duncan. He was quite fascinated by rather obscure aspects of mythology and ancient cultures. Unfortunately…he was not on very good terms with other members of the family, including myself.”

After some puzzled looks from the agents, Gabrielle took up the thread. “What Fox means to say, is that unfortunately Professor Renard’s methods of research, along with some of his peculiar viewpoints, were drastically opposed to those shared by the established authorities of academia. Also, his methods of acquiring archaeological evidence didn’t always agree with either the Louvre or most other museums as he tended to take a much more aggressive approach. In fact he was associated on several occasions with Lady Lara Croft, or who some refer to as the ‘Tomb Raider’, where they apparently went on several expeditions together.”

Fox nodded her thanks to Gabrielle. “Yes, that’s correct. However, from what I know he and Lara had some sort of disagreement and the two disassociated with each other. Jacques’s subsequent forays into…well, increasingly bizarre subjects became a bone of contention for most other scholars and an embarrassment to the Renard family. So…my family tried to put some distance between him and us.”

“In other words you didn’t want some poor bastard like this Renard fellow to sully your family’s precious reputation,” John noted sarcastically.

Both David and Fox glared at John with murderous intent in their eyes, while he stared them down with his cigar clenched between his fingers. The other agents said nothing for several moments, well aware of the tension between the Immortal mercenary and the Xanatos family.

“I believe my wife had the floor, Mr. Roper,” David replied in a frosty voice, his steely eyes boring into John. “If you are actually a graduate of West Point as your record claims, may I strongly suggest you exercise some of the etiquette you learned there and allow my wife to continue?”

The Immortal took a long, slow puff from his cigar before forcefully exhaling in their direction. “You called me ‘Mister,’ David? What a switch! Usually you call me a ‘son of a bitch…’”

“Those words sum up my feelings toward you exactly, Captain,” Fox shot back with a hiss.

“Oh cousin, by all means, pray continue,” Morganne purred in a deadly voice as she shot her own ice-cold gaze at the soldier of fortune, pretending not to notice the torn expression on her daughter’s exquisite face. “I believe you should also add the term, ‘utter failure’ as well…”

“Hey!” Tory snapped, coming to her friend’s defense. “Why don’t you two just take your bitchy ’tudes and shove ‘em—”

“That will be ENOUGH!” Cathubodia said, her voice, while spoken lowly was laced with authority as it carried throughout the hall, bringing the bickering to a sudden end. Everyone stopped and paused to take in the Dopkalfar demi-goddess at the head of the table, her eyes boring into David, then Fox, followed by Morganne, Tory and finally John. “You may continue, Mrs. Xanatos, after you apologize for the uncalled remarks directed toward one of my agents,” she said in a tone that brooked no room for argument.

“Please forgive me, Cathubodia,” Fox demurred. After Cath nodded regally toward her, Fox offered a contrite apology to Roper and continued her briefing in a softer tone of voice. “As I was saying, Jacques had for a long while little contact with the rest of the Renard family, other than me.” A reminiscent look flashed across her youthful face, along with a hint of a smile. “Jacques was actually…when I was young, he was almost like an uncle to me. Where other members of the family wanted me to be prim and proper, Jacques always encouraged me to live my life the way I liked. No matter what others said…he was always there for me.” The smile faded away to a look that showed her inner conflict and guilt. David, ever so gently appeared to strengthen his grip on Fox’s hand in a comforting gesture. After a deep breath, Fox continued. “Unfortunately, as I said, things changed. We grew apart, I married David and became one of the CEO’s of Xanatos Enterprises, and Jacques continued to irritate his colleagues and the Louvre with his increasingly bizarre exploits, to the extent that his certification as a Professor was undergoing review by the board. And then, last week I…that is, my office received a phone call from him, from Paris.”

“Excuse me, Mrs. Xanatos?” General Erwin’s deep baritone voice rang forth. “Would it be alright if you were to play that message again for us, please?”

After a moment passed, Fox and her husband both nodded reluctantly. The female head of Xanatos Industries manipulated a keyboard offscreen, before a faint crackle of static and a single beep could be heard. “This was recorded on my answering machine.” The machine then began to play…

“Hello? Hello, Fox, are you there?” A French-accented voice, highly educated and spoken in proper English, came over the speaker. The tone appeared strained, frantic as the unseen speaker appeared to whisper his words. “Oh please, ma petit, I pray to God you are there, or you will pick this up soon. There is no time, I…oh mon dieu, what have I done?” The speaker choked back a sob before he continued. “If you are listening to this, please, do not hang up, I beg of you. Please listen, I am mailing what notes and photos I have of a recent expedition I undertook while I was on the Kola Peninsula. Now, understand, I know my quests as of late have become an embarrassment to you and the family, but please believe me when I say this was no ordinary expedition…I, oh God…this was something that was never meant to be found…what have I done?”

Cath quietly pressed a button on a laptop interface next to her and addressed the agents. “It is not yet clear what exactly Jacques Renard was talking about, however a package containing various documents was mailed to Mrs. Xanatos. A courier was on his way to deliver the contents, when apparently she was…decapitated.”

The Dopkalfar nodded. “Yes. The incident appeared to have occurred a block away from Xanatos Castle. From what we can tell, the decapitation occurred around three a.m., and involved a singular powerful blow to the neck with a sharp, large-bladed weapon. We have a photo of the crime scene here,” she noted, stroking a few keys on the panel before her, which brought up a holographic image of a grisly scene. The headless corpse of what had been a well-dressed woman was laid out on the snowy ground, arms laid out wide like a gruesome imitation of a snow angel. A large dark crimson pool had formed around where the woman’s severed neck was, the coagulated arterial blood forming a sharp contrast to the snow. “One clean cut, one might say,” the dark elf demigoddess added, looking pointedly at Gabrielle, Sonja and finally, John once again.

“No, John,” the Immortal Amazon replied quietly, shaking her head, “she was mortal, I’m afraid. The police identified her as Lisa Murrow, age twenty-eight. She apparently left behind a fiancée.”

The army veteran let out another puff from his cigar, his face impassive and subdued. “Guess that rules out the Game then, obviously.”

“Thank you, Captain Roper for that illuminating insight,” Fox shot back with a trace of her usual venom. After a furious glare from Cathubodia however, the woman became silent again.

“The majority of the courier’s package was apparently stolen by the perpetrator,” Cathubodia continued, “but not all, as he, or she was spotted by an NYPD officer picking up the various contents from the ground as they had been spilled all around in the attack. The officer was unable to accurately describe who the perpetrator was other than he appeared to be a tall, dark-cloaked individual with what he believes was long white hair. What we do have, after retrieving them from the NYPD, indicates this: Jacques Renard undertook a particular expedition some time ago to the Pechenga District subdivision in Russia, on the Kola Peninsula.”

The Dopkalfar glared momentarily at the fellow AF agent, who quietly mouthed “sorry” before she continued. “It seems that he, along with some other colleagues, was excavating an apparent Megalithic site on a rocky mount along the coast. After spending some time at this site, they appeared to have found the base of some sort of stone that appeared rather unique to the site. However, it was noted that only the base of the stone itself remained, the rest of the pieces to this particular stone, referred to in some obscure notes as the ‘Black Monolith’ appeared to be missing. His notes then went into detail about finding clues to the whereabouts of the missing pieces, obtained through historical research and study into the folklore of the area.”

The Director’s eyes then narrowed slightly. “However, from what inquiries we have made thus far, it seems the excavation came to an immediate halt after a mysterious…accident occurred that apparently claimed the lives of two of Jacques Renard’s colleagues. Strangely enough, it appears not long after this had occurred, Mr. Renard was contacted by an unknown party who was interested in the findings at the site. Soon he later went on another expedition, this time to a cave believed to be a Viking tomb situated in

Estonia

, where it is believed he found one of the fragments of the Monolith.” She typed another command into the laptop and soon, the holographic cameras positioned overhead beamed an image similar to what Alana and Reed had shown the group earlier, along with another one. The second image showed what appeared to be a large rocky mount, overgrown with green brush and trees set against a forlorn backdrop of lonely tree-studded hills complete with a gray sky, with the lowly jagged remains of crumbing fortifications and a glimpse of the chilly waters of the Barents Sea in the background. Crowning the ancient fortified mount sat four oddly shaped stone pillars, all of them equally spaced around several concentric circles of small, flat stone embedded into the ground. At the center was the jagged base of a rock that partially jutted out of the ground, fresh earth hewn around it showing evidence of a recent dig. “Reed, Alana, would you have any comments to provide from your own research thus far?”

“Well, as far as the runes are concerned,” Alana noted, “they’re too fragmented and incomplete to form any comprehensible sentence at this point from the picture of the one piece we have, other than one particular phrase; ‘For all Death becomes unto me’.”

“Ooookay, I’m already starting to feel a little creeped out,” Tory muttered.

Reed coughed and cleared his throat. “Well, I must say I find it rather odd that this stone would be connected to this particular site. In fact, I’m not sure if I would readily believe it is. Rune stones of this type, if that is what the photograph of this particular piece suggests, were not found at least until around the time of the first known written evidence of the Elder Futhark alphabet, in which case the earliest known examples date from the Second Century A.D. This site, if from what I was told correctly according to carbon dating that was performed on other artifacts found in the area, dates back at least to the Thirteenth Century B.C.”

Cath nodded gravely. “True, perhaps. The ruined fortifications you see in the background is a rather rare surviving example of what appears to be a Viking ring castle, supposedly dating from around 1000 A.D. or so. But we also discovered in the notes that carbon dating was supposedly performed on a bone fragment found at the site. The results came back matching the age of other particular artifacts excavated at the stone site itself, which date back much earlier.” She allowed that last sentence to sink in among everyone assembled.

Tomas sighed impatiently. “Enough with the ‘cryptic lass’ bit, Cath! Let us in on the gag, already, will you?” the shadow-demon inquired in his usual irreverent manner.

The Director of Avalon Force took a deep breath then exhaled. “I believe, based on what we have learned, that this artifact may, in fact, be Dopkalfar in origin.”

At that, Tomas’ eyes opened wide. “Oh, bloody hell,” he muttered, his voice soft and low.

The assembled agents all quickly shot looks back and forth at one another, before Tory broke the silence. “Whoa, slow down a minute there, Cath. Everyone knows you’re the numero uno authority on dark elf stuff, but where’d you get THAT idea?” She waved a hand at the holographic images that continued to shimmer over the table. “I mean, with all due respect, especially in regards to the Russians, this could just be some sort of elaborate hoax, no offense.”

“Agent Simmons, we cannot afford to assume it is a hoax,” Nimue noted gently yet firmly, the warm accent of the golden-haired sorceress emanating from her astral form. “Obviously you realize the implications of this. There are very few, if any remnants of the Dopkalfar’s incursions into the Earth realm remaining to this day, so this find, if true, would indeed be significant.”

“A bloody Dopkalfar artifact?” Sadie asked incredulously, apparently trying to resist the urge to flounce good social graces and spit. “That’s the last bloody thing we need right now,” she added darkly. She then shot a quick glance at Catherine. “No offense intended, Cath,” she added quickly.

“None taken, Sadie,” the Dopkalfar demi-goddess noted softly. Then she narrowed her eyes at the half-elf and growled, “However, the night is still young, so have a care.” That comment caused the youthful-looking witch’s mouth to go dry. Then Cathubodia, her superiority reasserted, turned to regard the other agents and guests. ”I wish this ‘Black Monolith’ was a ruse, but with everything that has occurred thus far, I see no reason to believe so. The runes, how they are written, along with the stone itself which is made of obsidian, the other symbols carved into this particular shard…it all bears a resemblance to certain wyrding stones of immense power, used for certain rituals amongst the various priestesses and magicians of the…my race, the Dopkalfar. The rituals, suffice to say, are not normally considered…pleasant by human or Faerie standards.” Cathubodia then noticed the subtle squeeze of her hand by Jason’s own, a comforting gesture that she returned gladly.

Evelyn scratched her chin with a delicate hand in thought. “Hmmm…the question though, is to what particular purpose was this stone, or the site it originated from for that matter, used for?”

“There are several possibilities, lady sorceress,” Morganne replied, her own regal voice laced with power and authority. “Wyrding stones, or rune stones of this nature, may have been utilized for any number of rituals. Fertility rites, rites celebrating the passing or birthing of seasons and deities, empowerment of those who worshipped such deities, these are just a few of the possibilities. Of course, the Dopkalfar and their own rituals, dedicated to those such as the Spider Queen, Lolith, are as Cathubodia said, most unpleasant, often involving the sacrifice of human flesh…and souls.”

“Well, to quote the Americans, it seems they were hardly ‘traipsing through the tulips’ if that were the case,” Aleksander grunted from his seat.

Morganne raised an eyebrow at Aleksander’s comment before continuing. “However, the most significant aspect of this would be that such a stone, when used in places of power such as this particular dolmen, may also be used to summon or contain beings of immense power, such as various higher-level demons, elementals, Faerie lords, and deities…”

“Which of course explains the apparent…interest in this artifact,” Nimue finished softly.

“Director?” The demi-goddess turned to regard the Czech psychic Ansastasia. “What happened to Jacques Renard?”

After a brief look from Fox Xanatos, who gave a reluctant nod, Cath pressed a button on her laptop and the earlier recorded message from Jacques Renard continued, albeit the Frenchman’s voice sounded somehow even more panicked and stressed. “But it’s too late for that now, for me. I only hope and pray that it is not too late for you ma petit, or for anyone else. But there is hope yet. I…I sent what they are looking for, the artifact away from them. I had the artifact transported aboard an Algerian merchant vessel, the Aruj. I did this several days ago in fact. They trusted me, they did. They said I would be richly rewarded for my trust in them, and now…they know I have betrayed them, oh god.” More sobbing over the speaker could be heard before Jacques continued. “They will come for me, they know, it’s only a matter of time. Get the artifact immediately when the ship docks at New York Harbor. It will be arriving at the Port Newark-Elizabeth Marine Terminal, with specific instructions to deliver the contents of the crate, the artifact directly to you. And study my notes. That is all I can say.” There was suddenly the sound of a distant crashing, then a loud boom, like the sound of something pounding against stout wood. The sound began to repeat itself, growing in intensity as Jacques spoke again, his voice cracking with emotion, yet sounding like one uttering his final epitaph. “Fox…I know we grew so far apart, but know that I never stopped loving you like a daughter…and I…” There was then suddenly a loud crash accompanied with what sounded like wood splintering asunder, then the Frenchman’s frightened, panicked voice. “No, no please, stop! I…” His voice then turned into a bloodcurdling scream, before the connection was abruptly terminated.

Silence hung over the hall for several minutes, save for the silent weeping of Fox, who was being comforted by her husband. The agents and others who sat or stood around the table were quiet, grim expressions on all their faces. None of them needed to be psychic to guess what probably happened next…

General Erwin gently cleared his throat. “Not long after the time the message was recorded, the Parisian Police Nationale received an emergency call from security at the Louvre Museum at about twenty-two thirty local time.” The General activated a switch hidden from view and several more holographic cameras swiveled toward the table. “According to our intel sources, when police arrived at the museum…they found this.” Several more images appeared. The first seemed to resemble an office of some kind, or at least, it had been an office before what seemed like a tornado had ripped through it. The doors appeared to have been torn right off their hinges and lay on the ground in splintered fragments. Smashed furniture and papers littered the entire place…along with a pool of congealed blood on the floor. Another image appeared, showing a visible crimson trail of blood leading down a hallway, as though someone or something had been dragged from the office. A third image appeared showing the trail of gore leading into one of the Louvre’s main art galleries, with numerous paintings and busts in full view positioned along the marble walls. The trail seemed to come to an abrupt halt within one circular room, with several blood splatters on the tiled floor…before a final image appeared.

Wide swaths of blood were plastered across the entire length of the domed roof of the room…and walls…and the tiled floor. Faint bits of discolored gore, possibly flesh, hair or bone was mixed with the blood forming a gruesome cocktail. Oddly enough, the paintings and busts were mostly untouched by the gore, as though whoever had perpetrated the atrocity seemed to have had a discriminating eye. Indeed, it appeared some of the gore was raked along the walls in a fashion as where it almost seemed to frame several watercolor paintings, as though done by some macabre brush.

“Shit,” Tory whispered, her tone sounding almost like her voice belonged to a terrified little girl. Marina’s lip set in a grim line at the sight of the grotesque spectacle, before gently squeezing the hand of the redheaded mutant hacker who sat next to her, offering some comfort.

“James?” Ariel’s own motherly, concerned voice was heard as she addressed her husband. “I think they’ve seen enough,” the Wiccan Priestess noted softly, gesturing with her eyes to where Fox had her gaze averted, appearing to struggle with conflicted emotions on her face while her husband sat silently. Nodding his assent, the General punched a button and the assembled holographic images overhead faded from view.

“From what we know, the French Police Nationale is treating this as a crime scene,” Gabrielle said softly, sparing a moment to gaze sympathetically at Fox before continuing. “The problem is…no body has been found yet, so they’re not yet treating this as a homicide, although we can only assume the worst.”

“Another problem that compounds this,” Sonja spoke with a slight growl, like the well-honed predator that she was, “is that Jacques was under investigation by numerous sources. The Russians were attempting to hold Jacques for questioning in relation to the murders that occurred up in Pechenga District, in spite of some of the confusion with the recent upheaval in regards to Boris Yeltsin’s death and Vladimir Putin taking over last year. The Estonian authorities were also claiming that Jacques retrieved the artifact from their country without permission and were demanding to have it returned. Interpol it seems was also about to be involved when this happened. Unfortunately, from what we can tell thus far, the French appear to be treating this more as some sort of elaborate scam in order to allow Professor Renard to go into hiding and make everyone presume he is dead…due to the fact, as Gabrielle mentioned, there’s been no sign of his body anywhere, other than the considerable amount of blood.”

The room was quiet for a moment, save for the popping of wood from the large fireplace, before David Xanatos took up the thread. “When Fox told me of what happened, and fearing the worst, I acted immediately,” David said as he quietly comforted his wife. “I had one of my personal security teams sent out to the pier where the Aruj was to dock, with orders to retrieve the artifact immediately and bring it to Xanatos Castle. Of course, we did notify General Erwin and his unit of what was taking place…”

“Of course it would have been wiser if you’d notify us sooner beforehand, and proper procedure would be to turn the artifact over to either Omega or Avalon Force immediately,” General Erwin growled.

David glared at General Erwin momentarily. “Regardless, everything seemed to be going well and the head of the security team reported a small crate containing the item in question was being unloaded onto the pier. Then…all hell broke loose.” The co-director of Xanatos Enterprises cleared his throat. “I heard screams, gunfire, confusion coming from all the security team’s comm links. The team leader reported that they were under attack by…something. Then everything went dead.”

“Two Pave Hawks and an Osprey loaded with heavy weapons and Omega Force teams were en route,” General Erwin added. “This was recorded when they had just reached the vicinity of New York Harbor.” The video screen of James and his wife Ariel winked out momentarily, replaced with the black, white and gray video screen of what appeared to be a FLIR thermal video recording taken from one of the aircraft. White blooms from numerous heat sources could be seen pulsing in and out of focus against the cold, darkened background of numerous buildings. The chattering of several pilots could be heard in the background.

“Papa Bear, this is Lima Five-Six, we are over the Battery, ETA to rendezvous point fifteen seconds.”

“Roger Lima Five-Six, proceed to rendezvous point and secure the package, proceed with caution, over.”

Suddenly, numerous ghostlike, gray blurs seemed to appear out of nowhere around the ship, moving at near inhuman speed as they crawled along the length of the ship like ants.

Rick O’Connell blinked as he watched the screen along with the other agents. “Just what in the hell is that?”

“Hmmm, over-zealous dock workers, perhaps?” Tomas inquired, only to be met with a round of hostile stares.

The blurry shapes, or whatever they were seemed to move with some diabolical purpose as they seemed to hover momentarily from the sides of the ship, from rails and from the tops of containers like a pack of wolves hunting their prey, then, in one singular motion, they descended on their prey. Several human shapes seemed to go down instantly, with smaller heat blooms shown being ripped from them and being tossed aside, indicating with grim certainty what they probably were. Other human figures on the screen instantly began to point and fire weapons that created miniature heat blooms of their own, while the pilot’s chatter quickly rose in volume.

“Papa Bear, this is Lima Five-Six, we have multiple unidentified hostile Deltas overrunning the target area! Repeat, multiple unidentified hostile Deltas, civilians are being slaughtered, requesting authorization to engage, danger close!”

“Confirmed, Lima Five-Six, you are authorized to engage, weapons free, danger close. Recommend you use the seven-six-two’s and thirty mike-mike’s to minimize civilian losses, over.”

“Affirmative, Papa Bear.” A target crosshairs soon appeared on the screen and appeared to track several targets, while the remaining civilians seemed to fall rapidly to the gruesome assault by the unknown assailants. “Tracking multiple targets, engaging—SHIT!” The entire screen seemed to go momentarily white, then faded as the merchant ship itself was ripped in half by a large explosion in the form of a fireball that seemed to elevate toward the sky.

“The Pave Hawks and the Osprey managed to hover around the area for a few minutes before they were forced to veer off when emergency vehicles showed up,” General Erwin noted. “What the pilots saw with their own eyes more or less looked like this.” The screen flickered again, this time switching to what appeared to be a live feed of pure devastation.

The cracked remains of the ship could be seen, rendered asunder as though torn apart by an angry giant, surrounded by a lake of fire resulting from the leaking flammable fuel that had spilled out. Nearly a dozen emergency ships and helicopters were seen around the flaming wreckage, valiantly trying to put the flames out. A pier that seemed to run alongside the remains of the ship showed signs of structural damage from the explosion, while steel containers were smashed and carelessly tossed all over the place. Among the carnage, twisted and mangled remains of various bodies were seen, many of them charred black and smoking…

The video was replaced by the grim face of the General and his wife. “So far, no survivors have been found…and no sign of the artifact, either. According to the CIA and DIA, the Aruj was suspected of running black market weapons to various customers in ports throughout North Africa, so it’s possible that weapons and munitions were on the ship, but we don’t think it would have caused an explosion of this magnitude. The Algerian government is, of course noticeably upset, but with their own hands tied up with the civil war that’s continuing to flare up within their borders, it’s doubtful they’ll take any action other than lodge a protest and demand an explanation. Since this ship originated from the French port of Le Havre, we suspect GIGN will also be monitoring the investigation. As for the investigation itself, it’ll probably be handled by the NYPD and FBI, though it’s possible there’ll be jurisdiction fights with the Defense Threat Reduction Agency or even the ATF, depending on just what story gets spun to the press.”

“Just tell me those…things we saw on the screen weren’t mummies, pretty please?” Rick O’Connell, the immortal maji warrior asked with a sigh, pinching his nose with his fingers.

Rick gazed at his estranged wife with a nonplussed look. “Really? Then what exactly were they, Evelyn?”

“They definitely appeared more like summoned demonic creatures of some kind, especially with how they seemed to materialize out of thin air. In fact, it wouldn’t surprise me if this particular incident was the work of some high-level magician or sorceress, most likely extremely dangerous if he or she could pull off something like this. So please, Mister O’Connell, try to use your powers of deduction a bit more next time and quit thinking that every major supernatural evil involves mummies!” Evelyn added the last sentence with particular emphasis.

Rick’s expression didn’t change at all. “Oh, right, gotta act more politically correct since you happen to be a mummy yourself now, more or less.” The mercenary explorer sighed. “Whatever.”

Evelyn’s dark eyes narrowed, with seeming hints of golden energy sparkling within their depths. “You are a rude man with no manners, Rick O’Connell, and you had better be—“

“Agents Carnahan and O’Connell?” Cathubodia spoke, sounding both firm and annoyed which brought the couple’s bickering to a halt. “You would do well for yourselves and the rest of us if you could keep your marital disagreements outside and away from the affairs of this organization, thank you very much.” Something within the Dopkalfar demigoddess’s voice indicated just how strongly she meant that. After a moment, Rick and Evelyn became silent once again and nodded their acquiescence.

“As I was about to say, there are complications that I must deal with, of course,” Cath noted with a small sigh. “The American agencies should not be a problem; I will handle that. But the various other foreign interests involved, along with any others that may become interested, may be a bit more troublesome in this matter. However, as they say, ‘we will cross that bridge when we come to it’.” The other agents nodded in agreement.

“There is also another thing that Cath and I wanted to address with you,” Gabrielle added. “Shortly before Jacques’s unfortunate death, there was an unauthorized intrusion into the Louvre museum’s security grid,” the Queen of the Amazon Nation pointed out with emphasis. “It appears that it was a security hack, utilizing the computer network. The museum’s entire grid of CCTV cameras, infrared motion sensors and alarms along with its main security command center were brought down in rapid succession.” The blonde Immortal now had her gaze fixed on Tory, who listened intently. “Whoever the unknown party was that killed Jacques Renard, he, she, or it, they had an unidentified hacker or hackers working with them to bring down the museum’s electronic security apparatus, meaning that museum security has no images or details whatsoever of who or what may have perpetrated this.”

“What about the hack itself?” Tory inquired, now extremely curious about this development. “Have the French authorities been able to piece together anything from that?”

Gabrielle nodded. “It seems this unknown hacker exploited a back door of sorts through their computer network, using some type of worm or virus program to crash their system. Luckily enough, their computer and cyberwarfare specialists were able to perform a traceroute of where the hack appears to have originated. They traced it to a local server found here in the States, frequented by about a dozen websites. One of these happens to be a particular website run by someone located in a California town called Sunnydale. Another happens to be owned by three rather infamous hackers known in certain circles as…The Lone Gunmen.”

At that, Tory’s eyes opened wide. Then she held up her hand. “Whoa, whoa, whoa! Hold on a cotton-picking minute there, your Royal Blondness!” Tory’s nickname for the Amazon Queen brought a raised eyebrow from both Gabrielle and the tall busty redhead who sat beside her. “The Gunmen? I don’t think so! Those boys don’t exactly fit the profile of your run-of-the-mill psycho ‘let’s-go-play-Doom-in-real-life-and-waste-a-bunch-of-helpless-schmoes.’ They’re more like self-styled countercultural tinfoil-hat conspiracists than anything else. They’re not exactly spic and span, but the stuff they usually do includes exposing so-called conspiracies, hacking government websites, posting news bits about weird paranormal phenomenon, that sort of thing. But conspiring to murder and actually getting involved in weird hoodoo crap? It doesn’t fit their bill.” Then Tory, allowed a little self-conscious look to flash across her face, and added, “And, uh, and I’m not defending them just because I occasionally post on their web forums, or anything…”

“Actually, Tory, to be accurate, this does not appear to involve ‘hoodoo crap,’” Marina added helpfully, “rather, it seems to involve…”

“It’s just a freaking EXPRESSION, Dangergirl!” Tory shrieked just before she noticed the looks she received from the other agents.

“As my companion was about to say,” Sonja spoke as she shot a bemused expression at Tory, “these two websites in particular appear to be significant, with the one concerning the Lone Gunmen for obvious reasons, and the other…well, this site does originate from Sunnydale, a.k.a. Boca Del Infierno, the Hellmouth. As you all know, there are currently several active, semi-active or dormant dimensional gateways to the underworld, including the Nine Circles of Hell, active around the world. The most active one in North America now resides beneath Sunnydale, California, a university and shipping town of about 76,000 people situated along the West Coast in the northern area of the county of San Luis Obispo, about halfway between San Francisco and Los Angeles. Up until the 1981 Salem Hellmouth Incident, the most active Hellmouth in North America was in fact…well, what we’re sitting over right now.” She gazed down at her feet momentarily, as though seeing through the floor beneath. Everyone knew she was telling the truth however. One of the biggest reasons for the number of weird and macabre tales surrounding New England, particularly Salem and Specter Island, was that there was indeed a Hellmouth situated within the forbidding caves running deep underneath Ravenscroft Manor.

The Amazon Queen glanced sideways at her Immortal lover with a faux look of astonishment on her face. “Why, Sonja, you’re very much on top of things, I’m impressed!” She flashed a mischievous smirk. “Maybe you can keep this up as part of a new trend.”

Sonja turned and growled at her Immortal battle and soul mate. “You are begging for a spanking, little lady.”

“Really? That sounds kinky, I’ll hold you to that,” Gabrielle whispered back, bringing a frown along with a glint of anticipation in the ancient Immortal’s sapphire eyes.

“Right…’was’ being the operating word in regards to the bloody thing this manor sits over,” Sadie noted with a sigh. “Of course, that’s assuming it doesn’t become active again and spews out every sodding denizen of Hell…and that a crazy pillock, or gods forbid a whole inbred clan of them doesn’t get the idea they can actually control the damn thing.” The half-Sidhe’s words rang well and true; her family along with several others had been divided in a struggle between those who had sought to contain the Hellmouth, and those who had sought to control it for their own purposes for no less than three centuries, if not longer…with her family often caught in the crossfire.

“Again, there should be no reason for concern on that matter, Agent Wilde,” Cath offered in a reassuring tone. “Since the time of the Salem Incident, the Hellmouth here on the island has been sealed permanently and is no longer active in spite of the strong mystical currents that dwell in this place. With the additional safeguards that we have placed over the remnants of the portal, it is unlikely to become active ever again.” Of course, the Dopkalfar demi-goddess spoke with authority on this subject, considering she had personally drawn most of the portal’s malevolent energies into her own being during the battle, permanently closing the portal several decades ago.

Sadie nodded with a bit of relief, though her face remained creased with worry. “Of course, Cathubodia, you’re right.” Her enchanting amber eyes then regarded the Amazon Queen and her consort. “My apologies for the interruption, your Majesty, and milady; pray, continue.”

Gabrielle once again cocked an eyebrow. “’Your Majesty’? My, if I didn’t know better, Lady Wilde, your latent aristocracy is showing. Surprises galore tonight, indeed,” she purred softly, bringing a round of chuckles from the other agents while causing Sadie’s cheeks to turn a pretty shade of pink. The Amazon’s face then grew serious again. “However, as I was saying, since the closure of the Hellmouth here on Specter Island, there have been plenty of documented reports of increasing levels of activity coming out of Sunnydale. Although there hasn’t yet been any incidents that we know of that warranted emergency intervention by either Avalon Force or Task Force Omega, there have been some interesting spikes of activity there during the past two years.”

“That’s definitely NOT good,” Tory muttered. “So…this website in Sunnydale, what’s up with that?”

“Well,” Sonja drawled, “from what we know, it seems to be run by a young lady named Willow Miriam Rosenberg, a student currently attending Sunnydale High School. We ran a check on her...she’s a straight-A student with no criminal record or history of mental illness, thus far.” Sonja stroked some keys on another laptop near her, and soon another holographic image appeared over the table…this one showing a winsome-looking redhead in her early teens with a goofy-looking smile, with several scrolling lines of text alongside detailing related information about the young girl.

“Willow Miriam Rosenberg?” David muttered, scratching his bearded chin in thought. “Why does that name sound vaguely familiar?”

Fox gently cleared her throat. “She was one of two child prodigies we were tracking in Sunnydale, David, along with Daniel Osbourne for possible employment in the computer software and R&D departments.”

“Oh.” The male head of Xanatos Industries studied the picture of the redheaded girl and the other scrolling text more closely. “Hmmm…”

“Well, genius or not she doesn’t seem to fit the profile of a psycho demon-worshipper or nutcase,” Tory noted wryly, before noticing once again the other looks pointed her way and held up her hands. “Yeah, yeah, I know, looks can deceive.”

“Well,” the tall redheaded warrior continued, “What is interesting is that this ‘little tree’ has been very active in the hacking arena. Nothing serious for the moment; however, she’s tripped a couple red flags around several databases, including the local Sunnydale police department and the FBI.”

The mutant hacker snorted. “You don’t say, eh? She’s a bit sloppy, but not bad for an amateur. Well, guess I already know what I’m gonna be doing for the next few days, don’t I?”

“Cath,” Ariel asked her “little sister” as she often referred to her as such, though she was far younger by the Dopkalfar’s standards. “This artifact, plus all the activity surrounding it: in your opinion, does it represent a new threat by the Dopkalfar?”

Everyone silently waited for Cath’s eventual response. After taking a deep breath, Catherine shook her head.

“No…at least, I don’t think there appears to be one at the moment. The Dopkalfar in general know full well the consequences if they were to try to launch an inter-dimensional invasion from Haevan to Earth.” The dark elf’s eyes grew extremely cold, seemingly even darker and more opaque as before, as her voice took on a smooth, soft yet deadly tone that sent shivers through several of those assembled. “Were they to attempt to invade against my wishes and those of the Old Gods and the Earth Guardians, they would quickly regret ever making that decision.”

“And yet, with all due respect, Cathubodia,” Morganne demurred, “the possibility that this may indeed be a Dopkalfar threat is very serious indeed. For instance, this interest in such an artifact raises the hackles on the back of my neck!”

Cath sighed. “You would brook no argument from me, Lady Morganne. There may be several gods or goddesses among the Dopkalfar that might try an invasion…assuming they were bold enough to risk such a venture. One possible suspect might be my grandmother, Lolith, the Spider-Queen and Queen of all the other Dopkalfar Gods.”

“What about Vaelun, your clan’s god of war, Cathubodia?” Morgaine asked with a gleam in her eyes. “I would certainly relish testing my mettle against him in battle.”

At that, Jason snorted. “The only way he’d be involved is if he’s grown tired of breathing,” he muttered.

At the confused looks around the table, Cathubodia flashed a ‘Mona Lisa smile’ at everyone and gently squeezed her husband’s hand. “I don’t think he would be a suspect in this case, Morgaine. Besides, I have a notion that my sadistic cousin’s ‘bad boy’ reputation may have piqued your interest in him beyond his combat skills. Suffice it to say, his bondage and domination skills are infamous and most would do well not to experience his tender mercies.”

In response, Morgaine flashed a mischievous smile at them. “Oh, I don’t know…perhaps he and I should compare notes and engage in a ‘cultural exchange’ of sorts?”

At the disturbed looks directed at her daughter around the table, Morganne murmured, “That’s her father’s incubus side rearing its ugly head again!”

Struggling to change the subject, Nimue redirected the conversation. “What about demonic entities? Would there not be a possibility there as well?”

The Dopkalfar nodded. “Unfortunately, yes. I readily admit my brethren have had many…unsavory dealings with those of the infernal realms. However that list I’m afraid is quite long…Belial, Beelzebub, Baal, Lucifer, Baalberith, Thamuz, Leviathan, and Moloch, among others.”

“I would just hope, with all due respect, that your race was not involved in the matters concerning the Ancient Old Ones, Madam Director,” Reed asked with his brow furrowed in a worried expression.

“With the exception of some deluded personas, the majority of my race are thankfully not that desperate or delusional, Agent Duncan,” Cathubodia murmured softly. “Unfortunately, as I said, I can only speak for the majority of my race, which means that it cannot be ruled out either. However, with no further information available to us at this time, we unfortunately have little else to go on…other than one other piece of information that Queen Gabrielle has to share with us.”

The Immortal Battling Bard took up the thread. “Yesterday evening, Sonja and I were contacted by an old friend…that is to say, a very, very old friend, Cassandra.”

“Hold on Gabby,” John interrupted. “Are we talking about THE Cassandra, the Immortal Witch of the Donan Woods here?”

“Fascinating,” Reed noted, his interest piqued more than the rest. “Is it true she was also the Cassandra mentioned in the legend of the Trojan War?”

Sonja chuckled at that. “Oh, she’s been there and done that, plus quite a few other roles, believe me.”

Gabrielle smiled. “That would be an understatement, darling,” she purred softly, in a way that seemed to bring yet another glint of excitement to the lovely sapphire eyes of the tall redhead, before her expression became serious again. “Unfortunately, when Cassandra contacted us, it was more business than pleasure. She said she’d experienced one of her visions, which seemed a bit vague, but this centered around a ‘black monolith rising from the earth and unleashing unimaginable chaos’. But an even more interesting thing she had to say, to quote her, ‘out of chaos, seven women of fate would emerge’. She didn’t give any other specifics though, I’m afraid as to just what those seven women might be.”

“Well, that figures,” Cassidy drawled, his southern accent punctuating every word. “Damn prophecies always do tend to be a bit vague. Did she say anything else?”

Sonja shook her long red mane, the effect almost appearing like a blazing fire itself as it glinted off the light in the hall. “No, other than to say she would contact us again in a few days. She did seem rather paranoid when we spoke to her, however. When we asked if there was a problem, she said she was certain that someone or something was following her, but she was taking the proper precautions.”

A moment of silence passed before Cath turned to face John. “Agent Roper, is there anything you wish to add to this?”

The Immortal army veteran gazed over at the Director of Avalon Force, smoke gently curling up from the ashes on the end of his cigar before he shrugged. “Not much more I can say. I’ve…uh, met Cassandra a few times myself,” he tried to ignore a shared chuckle from Gabrielle and Sonja before going on. “But she always was the type of woman who tended to be a bit cryptic…”

“Among other things,” Tomas inquired with a wicked smirk on his demonic face. “I do believe from what I’ve been told, she’s one of the most beautiful women a man may ever encounter in this world, such that with your own, I would gather, intimate knowledge of her, I probably could not do her justice, you sly, devilish closet-Casanova!”

Attempting to ignore a round of snickering from the other agents, John firmly cleared his throat. “Is there something else you wanted to bring up with me?”

Trying not to laugh at her best friend’s antics, the Dopkalfar kept her regal composure and nodded. “Yes, unfortunately there is, Agent Roper…”

“We would like to know of your…relationship with Alexi Gregof, Agent Roper,” Morganne spoke in a cool, interrogative voice. Meanwhile her daughter Morgaine shot a worried look at her mother.

“Mother, with all due respect, is this truly the proper place and time to ask this? Don’t you think that…”

“I should be asking these questions, Lady Morganne?” Cath finished in a frosty tone, her eyes hooded as she glared momentarily at the sorceress of Avalon. After a moment, Morganne slightly bowed her head in acquiescence, though her expression remained cool.

John however hadn’t torn his gaze from the image of Morganne, glaring at her with his steely eyes. “Now what the hell is this about? My ‘relationship’ as you call it with Alexi is nothing special. We go back a way’s, that’s that.”

“Yes, back to World War Two, if we’re not mistaken,” Cath noted. “However, we are concerned about what he seemed to imply, that he possibly knew of your affiliation with us, or at least with a few of the women assembled here. It should also be worth noting that, according to our observation of your conversation with him, he asked you to travel to the very town of Sunnydale this evening.”

John noticed the stricken looks from the other female agents, particularly Tory, and the concerned expressions on the faces of Gabrielle and Sonja. After inhaling then exhaling a long puff from his cigar, he turned to face Cath. “The gypsies have eyes and ears everywhere, Cath. They’ve probably seen me with a few of the other agents at some point within the last year. And they know of my…mentoring under Gabby and Sonja. So there shouldn’t be any reason to start a shitstorm here. Besides, with security as tight as it is, I doubt they’re any more wiser about the existence of this group than anyone else. As for Sunnydale, well…that town’s been known as one big shithole of trouble for some time, so I don’t think it’s a surprise that he’s asking me to go there to check on someone. For the moment neither he nor his clan have a grudge with me about anything, and I don’t think they’re gonna start one now…it’s not like they don’t have enough problems of their own as is.”

“Perhaps, John,” Morganne purred dangerously. “Or possibly, you had yet another bout of ineptness, and you may have bragged to your dear gypsy friend over one too many glasses of ale at some point about this particular…organization.”

John stared daggers at the sorceress of Avalon, who in turn was just unblinking as she reciprocated. “I have never spilled one fucking secret concerning this group to anyone. And if anyone here has doubts, they can interrogate me however they goddamn please. But I will say this;” his voice rose to a deadly growl not unlike an angry wolf, “If I recall correctly, and do feel free to correct me if I happen to be wrong, the ones here asked me to sign on, not the other way around.”

“Not everyone, John,” Morganne hissed, her eyes ablaze with eldritch magick that began to swirl from within. “Certainly not David, nor Fox, nor a few others, and certainly not me. Were it up to me, your bones would have been left to rot in the jungles of Africa for all I care!”

Morgaine, her face torn with loyalty and grief, gently choked back a sob. “Mother, please don’t say that…”

Nimue, however, appeared furious. “Morganne, this endless squabble between you and John Roper has become pointless,” she growled in an elegant, yet more deadly manner not unlike a wolf. “And mind you, your daughter is present!”

Morganne turned her head to regard the woman who now ruled over and guarded the land of Avalon along with her since the last, fateful days of the era of King Arthur’s Round Table. The sorceress’s beautiful face became momentarily distraught when she noticed the genuine expression of conflicting emotions playing out across her daughter’s face, though her face hardened once again when she turned back to regard the Immortal who glared at her with steely eyes. “I am well aware of my daughter’s feelings in this matter, Nimue,” she said lowly, her voice quivering with silent rage. “Yet I wish to make it clear once again that we are placing in our trust in a man who has failed us once before when we needed him most, and now YOU, Cathubodia,” she continued as she swept her gaze toward the Dopkalfar demi-goddess who peered at her astral form coolly, “are placing your trust in him as well. Ultimately, no matter how well he may perform in the short term, I fear that he will fail you as well.”

“Morganne,” John hissed, his blood boiling as his eyes seemed to blacken with rage, as his free hand came to rest on the hilt of his saber. “You say that again, or bring up Sierra Leone or Africa one more time, and I’ll find a way over to Avalon and gut you like a fucking—“

“ENOUGH, both of you!” Cathubodia snapped, her words ringing throughout the enormous hall with every syllable. “Suffice to say, my patience does have its limits!” Everyone in the hall grew silent again, knowing that the last thing anyone wanted to do was piss off a Dopkalfar demigoddess.

The sound of the fire popping in the fireplace was all that could be heard for several more breaths, before the dark elf priestess turned her focus to Agent Roper and regarded him imperceptibly, while the Immortal smoked his cigar in silence. “Unfortunate as it may be, Captain Roper, Lady Morganne does raise a valid point. You would be wise to exercise greater caution in your contacts with Alexi Gregof in the future. It is also likely not a coincidence that he asked you to venture forth to Sunnydale in regards to this particular matter that he asked you to resolve. However, since there has been increasing levels of activity at that Hellmouth within the past several years, plus the possible connection, however tenuous, between the security intrusion at the Louvre museum and this young Miss Rosenberg, who lives there, then this must be investigated. Suffice to say, Agent Roper, your request to travel to Sunnydale is granted.” The Director then gently lifted her delicate eyebrows momentarily before adding, “However, as I’m certain you already know, it would be inadvisable to travel lightly for this particular foray. Agent Simmons, I trust you can fashion a suitable…package for Agent Roper?”

Agent Tory shrugged in a nonchalant manner. “Sure, we just added some more tweaks to the Hummers, we can send out one of those along with a full load of gear for hard target, wetworks and surveillance ops.”

“Agent Roper will be traveling alone on this assignment,” Cath noted gently yet firmly.

“She’s got a point, Tory,” John noted quietly. “If it’s gonna be a recon or pathfinding mission I’d better go it alone. Having company along might just make it more noticeable and look suspicious.”

“I need you to remain here while Agent Roper travels to Sunnydale, Agent Simmons,” Cath interrupted softly, aware of the affection the hacker held for the Immortal. “Now, if Agent Roper’s mission becomes compromised in any way or should he need additional support, you will be selected along with several other agents to travel to Sunnydale to provide additional support. However, for now you will investigate the cyber intrusion at the Louvre, any possible connections between it and the Lone Gunmen plus Willow Rosenberg, and how this is all connected to the recent events that have occurred, do you understand?” Her tone, while spoken gently, meant there was no room for negotiation in the manner.

The lovely redhead’s face fell, before reluctantly nodding. “Yes, Ma’am.”

Nodding in satisfaction, the Director then turned her attention to Cassidy and Anastasia. “Agent Williams, Agent Provana, the two of you are to travel to Paris and see if you can find any other information on Professor Renard’s whereabouts prior up to the…incident, and see what else the police have found concerning the matter. Use whatever means you deem necessary, but remain subtle. We do not need to alert the French authorities or intelligence services as to our interest in the case.”

“That shouldn’t be a problem, Ma’am,” Cassidy replied in his usual polite Southern manner, “Can’t say the same thing about the French though; the only good thing is their wine and cheese, and I ain’t much into neither.”

“Really?” Anastasia inquired in her enticing accent with a raised eyebrow. “Last time we were there you did seem rather ‘into’ those three French girls we found in your room.” A round of snickering went around the table again, as the mustachioed priest coughed. “But Director, what about the incident in New York harbor? Who will investigate that?”

A round of apprehensive looks were exchanged around the table. “Er…Director, Major Merwin…do you think that is wise?” Duncan asked.

Aware that only he, and possibly, Tomas, could detect the heat emanating from his lover’s body which told him she was highly aroused and needed both his and Nimbus’ attentive ministrations soon, away from prying eyes or ears, Jason valiantly tried to ignore the maddening trace of his wife’s fingertips against his palm and said, “I assure you Cath will be in good hands.” Ignoring Tomas’ knowing chuckle, Jason continued. “I suspect that if someone was powerful enough to pull off this much damage in one strike then there’s no telling what they may have left behind. Reed, Alana, the two of you stay here for now and see if you can find any additional information on the artifact. Alek, Sadie, work with Tory and Marina and double check the armory, make sure all our ammunition and gear is up to date and that all the weapons are greased up and good to go. In the meantime we’ve already made arrangements with the NRO to lend us one of their spy birds available over the Kola Peninsula and continue to monitor the area around the archaeological dig, or elsewhere in

Russia

for any signs of suspicious activity. Captain Lipton down in the intel section is also going to conduct frequent clairvoyant sweeps of the area for us as well.”

“Aw believe what she does is still referred to as ‘remote viewing’, sir,” Cassidy corrected.

“Oh, is the good captain down in the caves now?” Tomas inquired with a gleam in his eye. Of course, by the ‘caves’, the shadow demon referred to the enormous subterranean tunnels that ran underneath Ravenscroft Manor where much of the numerous facilities operated jointly by Omega and Avalon Force was held, along with other tunnels that led to more esoteric and in some cases, forbidden places that were sealed off for good reason. But more than anything, Tomas of course referred to Captain Diana Lipton, the tall, stunning brunette telepath and clairvoyant who had turned more than a few heads since being stationed on the island. “I must say,” Tomas continued with a dreamy look in his eye, “I wonder if she’s doing another one of those trance sessions of hers in one of those sensory tanks or whatnot, floating in her string bikini. My, when a woman floats alone like that, all serene with her assets on full display, one can’t help but—“

“Tomas,” Cathubodia interrupted, gently but firmly clearing her throat, “do try to behave.” Her subtle gesture barely suppressed the inward laughter she felt at her longtime friend’s infamous sexual escapades. “In this world, such comments are referred to as ‘sexual harassment’.”

The former resident of Haevan snorted derisively. “Yet another example why the mortals on this world are sexually repressed.”

“So, just to sum up what’s on everybody’s mind then in closing, Jace,” John said from his seat at the table, hoping to change the subject, “is that on top of everything else, with the location of where this site is, we’re looking at the possibility of a little foray into Russian territory, aren’t we?”

The assistant director and military liaison officer nodded simply. “That’s a big possibility, yep.”

“Of course, as everyone knows this site’s on the Kola Peninsula, and as everyone knows, especially Alek, in spite of Norway’s ‘non-provocation’ policy, or so they call it, there’s still a shitload of Russian firepower stationed around there, and of course to say nothing that it appears to be just a stone’s throw away from Murmansk, among other things.”

“You know, Major,” Rick offered in his inimitable casual manner, “There’s a rumor that in spite of the recent coup and all the hardline rhetoric and the military buildup,

Russia

’s still supposed to be our ‘global partner’.”

Rick shrugged in reply and elbowed Aleksandr lightly who sat nearby, his hands folded together as he appeared deep in thought. “Anxious to visit the Motherland again?”

“No,” the Siberian werewolf growled, prompting the American not to push the subject further.

An impatient Cath nodded. “I believe this meeting is adjourned. Mr. and Mrs. Xanatos…if I may suggest for the time being, you may wish to increase the security around Castle Xanatos as a precaution and exercise additional discretion when traveling about.”

David nodded. “It’s done, Cath, I already made arrangements as soon as I got word of what was going on.”

“Good. You may wish to ask the Gargoyles if they may be willing to help you in this endeavor. Or at least, see if they may be able to discover any clues or details from their police contacts as to what exactly occurred in New York Harbor.”

Fox along with her husband frowned slightly. Despite the truce that now existed between the Xanatoses and the Gargoyles, the well-known rivalry that had existed between them for several years along with the scars it left behind had yet to fully heal. “I’ll…relay your message to Goliath, Cathubodia. Although I can’t guarantee he’ll say yes.”

The Dopkalfar allowed a small smirk to form in the corner of her mouth. “If Goliath still harbors any misgivings, allow either me or Gabrielle to speak with him; I am certain we can mediate a solution for your dilemma. General Erwin, Ariel, I assume you will contact us whenever you deem it appropriate to do so and lend us any aid within your abilities to provide in this matter?”

The General nodded. “It’s your show, Director. All the other units have been notified if you need additional support.”

“I’ll notify my other sisters in their respective covens, in case their magickal arts are needed…which I’m afraid may be necessary,” Ariel added. “We might try and scry for any knowledge of this new threat’s activities and whereabouts as well.”

“Lady Morganne, her daughter Morgaine and myself will be more than willing to assist you in this matter, Lady Ariel,” Nimue noted softly, with the two other sorceress nodding their heads in agreement.

Cathubodia nodded in satisfaction. “Very good, if there are no further questions, then this meeting is adjourned.” With that, the video screens winked out, while the astral forms of the twin rulers of Avalon along with the hologram of the ruler of

Liechtenstein

faded from view. As the agents began to rise from their chairs, the Dopkalfar added, “Agent Roper…will you stay a moment, please?”

John continued to smoke his cigar with an impassive expression while the other agents dutifully filed out of the hall. Tory stopped by him and leaned in, whispering, “When you get a chance, stop by the lab, okay?” With that, she quickly stepped out and closed the massive doors behind her.

Silence reigned in the hall for a moment, the silence only broken by the occasional pop and crackle of burning timber in the massive fireplace, before the Dopkalfar finally broke the quiet air. “It seems you’re still having trouble with certain…friends of this organization, John.”

“Glad you noticed that,” the Immortal replied dryly. At the looks of the others, the man sighed in disgust. “Well, what the hell else did you expect? We’re not in this fuckin’ business to win popularity contests.”

“No, John,” Gabrielle replied in an annoyed tone, as though she were a mother addressing a rebellious son. “But it would be helpful if you at least put forward a stronger effort in trying to mend fences with David, Fox, and Morganne.”

“You saw what their reactions were to my presence here tonight, Gabby, nothing’s gonna change that. You ask me to get things done, I get things done, but don’t expect me to do it and then present it to you wrapped up nice with a pretty pink shit-ribbon. In a perfect world, sure, everyone would be on the same page and we’d all get along and everybody would be happy with everyone else and get the results everyone wanted, but that ain’t the case. Not with the Templars, the Congregation, the Caliphate, the Elders and their pet witches, or whoever else who’s supposedly on the same side tryin’ to breathe down our goddamn necks and waiting for the right time to fuck us over.”

“We are well aware of that, John,” Cathubodia replied, a note of impatience creeping into her voice, though she was now much more relaxed as she allowed the tension from the meeting drain off of her. “Which is all the more reason for you to do more on your behalf. We’re all trying to lessen the tension between you and the others…but you need to do your part as well. We’re already facing increasing levels of demonic activity across the globe, not to mention the other problems not just on this world but on Haevan and Gaea as well, and this new threat facing us now is going to require ALL of us to be on the same page, as you would say. We’ll talk to David, Fox, and Morganne again and tell them they need to try and meet you in the middle. But you need to help us in this endeavor, do you understand?”

The old veteran said nothing, save for a cloud of smoke he slowly billowed forth from his mouth for several seconds.

“Do you understand, Agent Roper?” Cathubodia repeated, this time in a tone indicating she would not take no for an answer.

“Crystal,” the Immortal muttered quietly, trying to keep the disgust out of his voice.

The Dopkalfar nodded in satisfaction. “Good…is there anything you wish to add?”

“Sure.” The Immortal inhaled his cigar before blowing out another cloud of smoke. “I’d just hope none of you are questioning my judgment in the matter.”

“I’m fully aware of that, Jace.” The old veteran gave the army officer a steady look. “All too well. But I know I’m not the only that thinks something smells like shit about all this considering that the Xanatoses are involved. You know David and Fox’s record just as much as I do.”

“We do, John,” Gabrielle replied impatiently. “But considering all else that’s happened within the past several years, David and Fox are on our side now, and we need all the help and support we can get considering what’s facing us out there. You need their help too, just as much as they need yours, whether you like it or not, so do what you always do and just suck it up and move on. And yes, David and Fox can be amoral bastards, but if they cross the line or backstab us in any way, we’ll ‘handle’ them…you have our word on that.”

“Spoken like a true politician,” John growled, “or more like your character as it’s portrayed on that TV show. Everyone I’ve talked to is laughing their asses off at that.”

“John,” Gabrielle replied, in a rather disturbingly sweet tone this time, her deceptively innocent doe-like eyes taking on a feral look that John had seen before; the kind of look that meant that whoever was trying to screw with her was about to be fucked, and not in a nice way, “Don’t bring up that subject to me again.”

“Gabby, you’re the one who sold the Xena scrolls to that Rob Tapert and his fellow idiot Sam Raimi, remember?”

“Lady Gabrielle, Lady Sonja,” Cathubodia interjected, using a formal title that she knew tweaked both women as they glared back at her, “the night is very late, and Agent Roper, as well as the rest of us, still have much to do before we retire. I believe it best that he be on his way.” After a pair of casual waves of assent from the blonde and redheaded warrior women, the dark elf nodded imperceptibly to John. “Agent Roper, please report to us again at nine-thirty am, or 0930 hours as they would say, for a follow up briefing on Sunnydale before you depart. You are dismissed.”

The agent blew one last cloud of smoke overhead in finality, before leaning forward and smothering the cigar in a silver ashtray. He rose up from his chair and began to leave, but then stopped and turned his head sideways, regarding the four still assembled at the table. “Jace, Cath, Sonja…Gabby?”

“This whole situation we’ve got now,” the mercenary began then paused before continuing. “it feels real bad. Not tryin’ to be overdramatic or whinin’…it’s just this one smells like shit all the way from top to bottom. Somethin’….I don’t know…something just doesn’t feel right at all.”

“We’ll deal with it, John,” Sonja said in an uncharacteristically gentle tone, “just like everything else.”

“Yeah,” the veteran replied quietly, “just about all we can do, isn’t it?” With that, he stepped out and shut the large oak doors behind him, leaving him alone in the grand hallway, with his own thoughts…

Nothing felt good about this at all. Cathubodia was right. The Dopkalfar weren’t stupid enough to try an invasion of Earth without serious consequences, so who was behind it all? There was a long list of possibilities, but it would have to be a serious foe, one who had the resources to pull it off, but still, why the interest in a Dopkalfar artifact? And why go to such unsubtle and visible lengths now?

The Immortal shook his head. One thing at a time, he thought, deciding that the first thing he needed to do was to go see Tory in the lab, see what new stuff she had cooked up then get some shuteye. As he walked down the hall, he noticed Jade, Sadie’s parrot familiar sitting on top of an old antique set of full-plated armor, the helmet’s visor set down over a mere shadow that now inhabited the once-used armor. The bird glanced at him with its eerily intelligent eyes, as though trying to warn him of something, before it spoke.

“Ahoy, batten down the hatches mateys! Rough seas ahead, once more unto the breach, there’s a beast out without a leash! RAWK!”

The Immortal grunted. “Thanks for the warning,” he muttered before he went on. Sometimes he wondered if Sadie’s familiar knew a hell of a lot more than it let on…reminding him one more time why he sometimes hated that bird.

The one thing he wondered about now, more than anything, was what exactly was in store for him in Sunnydale…

On the other side of the United States of America, away from the torrential snow and bitter cold that gripped the Northeast, sat the town of Sunnydale along the California coastline. In this deceptively quiet university town, on this particular night, the popular local hangout for teenagers known as the Bronze buzzed with all the usual activity, with couples dancing and gossiping the night away. On the dance floor, Elizabeth Anne Summers, a lovely blonde teenager known to her friends as “Buffy” and known to the world of the supernatural as the Slayer, the Chosen One who had been chosen by the Powers That Be to protect the unsuspecting world of mortals from vampires, demons, and other monstrosities that went bump in the night, was dancing with her mismatched-wardrobe friend, Alexander Lavelle Harris to a mellow tune.

“Well, as many times as I’ve thought I might actually grow bored with this dump, I never thought I’d actually say I absolutely LOVE this place right now, at this very instant,” Xander spoke in his trademark flippant manner as he danced with the petite blonde.

Buffy gave her dark-haired friend a look of mock surprise. “Love? Isn’t that a little strong, Xander? Please don’t tell me that you’ve actually grown tired of traipsing around local cemeteries like me and prefer the normalcy of the Bronze instead!” She of course referred to her usual duties of utilizing her supernatural “gifts”, if one could call it that, to hunt down the creatures of the night and other nasties, who unfortunately had a habit of hanging around graveyards, tombs, and other icky places. Why can’t vampires just hang around ordinary places like shopping malls more often? That way, get on with the slayage, then shop ‘till you drop! Of course, that assumed she’d been in much of a shopping mood as of late, considering that her ex-boyfriend, a vampire of all things, had turned into a homicidal maniac intent on tearing out her friend’s entrails and presenting them to her as gifts. She valiantly tried to push the unpleasant thought from her mind, before she changed the subject. “Did I say ‘traipsing’? Oh…no. No!” She quickly put a hand to her mouth in mock horror. “I just used another ‘Giles’-ism!” She blinked twice and shuddered. “Eww!” she muttered. Perhaps instead of Kendra, she herself was the one in danger of becoming a ‘She-Giles!’

Xander appeared to share her look of horror as well. “Now, THAT is scary. Demons and vampires are one thing, but Buffy, promise me you will never, ever become a She-Giles! One pocket-protector luvin’ advocate is more than enough for the Hellmouth!” His mind then switched gears. “Uh, what were we discussing before that?”

“Oh, yeah! Well…more like I love the fact that I am now capable of dancing, at this moment, here in the Bronze, without having to worry about every girl in this club, in the town, or on this planet wanting to make me their personal cuddle monkey.” Xander, of course, referred to the “incident” only a few days ago when he had basically blackmailed Amy the witch into casting a love spell designed to make Cordelia love him again. Of course, it had gone awry, to say the least, resulting in just about EVERY woman except Cordelia becoming infatuated with Xander, to a near homicidal level. Not only had Willow become so obsessed with Xander to the point that she’d threatened Cordelia with an axe, Buffy had tried to seduce him wearing nothing but a raincoat, high-heels, and a smile, while Miss Calendar, the gypsy computer teacher, had tried to yank him aside for some personal “education.” Meanwhile, Giles nearly killed Xander after Amy had temporarily zapped Buffy into a rat, not to mention that Drusilla the vampiress had tried to make Xander into her personal vamp boy-toy, and Buffy’s mom along with the cafeteria school lunch lady had tried to get their mitts on him. I mean, the freaking school lunch lady! Almost getting bit by a vampire is bad enough, but I draw the line when it comes to amorous slop-serving hags! Switching gears, the X-Man chanced a glance over at Cordelia Chase, the beautiful brunette ex-cheerleader who was his unlikely girlfriend, and Willow Rosenberg, the winsome-looking redheaded computer whiz who had been his lifelong friend. They both happened to be seated at a table chatting with each other, or so it appeared.

At least, he still hoped the girls were still his friends after the whole love spell debacle, but now he wasn’t so sure. “Nowadays, it seems just about every girl on this planet seems to want to flush my head down a toilet, among other things…not that I blame them, of course. Er, hopefully, present company excepted,” he added hastily, gesturing to his blonde friend.

Buffy fixed Xander with a stern glare for a moment, almost causing the young man to gulp before a hint of a smirk appeared on her winsome face. “Well, not for the moment. As long as you don’t get too flatfooted and trip me, we’ll be fine.” She then chanced a glance of her own at Willow’s and Cordelia’s table. “Although, I gotta say, I never thought I’d see those two sitting and having a pow-wow. I mean…Willow and…Cordelia?” She grimaced. “Ugh, if I didn’t know better, I’d say the apocalypse has come and somebody forgot to beep me.”

Xander was quick to match the bottle-blonde’s grimace with his own. “Buffy, don’t say that! We don’t wanna tempt the Hellmouth to spoil an otherwise quiet night, remember?” He continued to dance slowly with his companion to the tune of the mellow song that played over the club’s stereo system. “Well, try not to blab this out too much, but having them talk was sort of Cordy’s idea. I guess she wanted to know why Will hates her so much…or something like that. See, apparently Cordy got this idea in some sort of self-help book…”

“Book?” The Slayer’s eyebrows rose at the mention of “Cordelia” and “book” in the same sentence. “Wait a minute…Cordy read a book?”

“Well, I don’t think she really read it, more like skimmed through it, and I guess she came upon this topic that read….”

Buffy quickly raised her hand to Xander’s face, bringing the teen’s babbling to a halt. “I get the point, Xander!” She grimaced yet again, resisting the urge to stop the dance and bury her face in her hands. “Now Cordy’s reading books! Ugh! If Watcher-guy ever finds that out, I just KNOW he’s gonna give me endless grief over this!”

The X-Man nodded enthusiastically. “Yep, I can just see it now. ‘Hullo, my dear Miss Summers,” the young man began, imitating an English accent while Buffy struggled not to laugh. “’Now that you’ve seen that even a cheerleader can read, let’s get you started, shall we? Begin by starting with the entire Encyclopedia Britannica, from A to Z!’” After sharing a chuckle, Xander went on. “Which kind of brings me to another thing…sorta.” His face then scrunched into an uncomfortable expression. “Which actually it doesn’t, but….”

The Slayer narrowed her eyes dangerously at her friend. “Xander, you’ve got that face again.”

“The ‘I’m-about-to-say-something-that-might-get-my-ass-kicked face,’” she answered with a growl. “Spit it out, Xander; what’s on your mind?”

“Well…I was thinking,” Xander began, uncertain. He certainly didn’t want to make a scene here in the Bronze, but perhaps doing so in public would ensure he didn’t get very dead or worse. “I was thinking…that…wecouldgettogethertomorrowagainhereattheBronzewithAmy,” he rambled off in one nonstop sentence.

Xander groaned. “I meant to say, Amy might come here tomorrow with us and—“

“I got it the first time, Xander!” She hissed. Needless to say, the Slayer was still rather miffed at being turned into a rat by Amy of all people. “Well, if you want me to kick her ass into the next century, that’s great, because…”

“Wait a minute, Buffy,” Xander began, flailing his hands slightly in a desperate attempt to cool off his friend’s boiling blood. “Look, it wasn’t really her fault with you and the rat thing, okay? If anyone’s to blame, it’s me. Look, maybe Amy could help us. She’s a witch, right? So maybe we can talk to her, smooth things over a little, and maybe she can help us with her mojo stuff, help us turn some of the hocus pocus on the demons and all that.” Xander’s face faltered slightly. “And what am I even saying? I mean this is the girl whose spell turned all the girls in Sunnydale into homicidal love bunnies!”

The Slayer harrumphed. “Yeah, well….I guess it’s not too bad of an idea. Okay, fair enough. Provided she doesn’t start trying to pull any other mojo, she can hang with us tomorrow…for now.” Again, she spied the table where Cordelia and Willow continued to converse. “Although I won’t guarantee Will and Cordy will be QUITE so enthusiastic.”

Xander sighed in relief. “Okay, cool, so you haven’t killed me yet, that’s a good thing and that brings me to one other thing.” At this, the teenager finally let his guard down, his usual smart-aleck demeanor gone. “Buffy…what am I gonna do about Willow? I mean…ever since the whole deal with the love spell, she’s been more or less kind of avoiding me. I mean…let’s face it; I know she’s pissed, and she has every right to be, because what I did was stupid, with a capital S. But I don’t want it to go on like this, I don’t wanna lose her. So, with that in mind…Buffy, what am I gonna do?”

The Slayer paused for a moment, slightly taken aback. Xander was asking HER for advice? Normally she might have snarked something silly or casual, but in this case it was serious. After pursing her poutish lips in thought, the Slayer said, “Xander…I think there’s a straightforward answer to that, but it’s not easy either. Don’t push the subject with her, but ask her next time you have some time with her, and see if she’s willing to listen. If she is…well, just say what you said to me: Admit that what you did was wrong, you screwed up, but you know what you did was wrong, you’ve learned from it, and ask if she’s willing to forgive you. And, well, hopefully everything will work out.” Her aquamarine eyes then lit up as something else popped in her mind. “Oh! And something pink and fuzzy!”

“Pink and fuzzy?” The young man’s mind began to wander momentarily with dirty thoughts. “That doesn’t possibly include anything R-rated, does it?”

The Slayer sighed and lightly punched her friend in the arm. “No, you idiot! Something pink and fuzzy, like a stuffed animal. Will’s always had a soft spot for fuzzy things. Get her a stuffed pink elephant, or something.”

“Oh, right! Gotcha. A gift, a peace overture, that sort of thing. Kind of like with Valentine’s day, when everyone likes to give people artificial roses and stale teeth-shattering chocolate, like with Will and Oz, or me and Cordy, or you and A—“ Xander’s face froze in horror, as he realized he’d almost mentioned Angel. Even though there was no love lost between him and Angel as far as the X-man was concerned, he knew it was a sore spot for Buffy. He attempted to apologize when he saw the stricken look in Buffy’s eyes. “Oh, shit. Buffy…I’m sorry, my mouth just ran off again, and…”

The blonde made an audible sigh. “Xander, don’t worry about it, okay?” To her apparent relief, the dance had come to an end. The Slayer released Xander’s hands and headed to the bar. “I’m gonna get some refreshments, okay?” She walked off, muttering, “And some cheese. I could really use some cheese; Swiss, cheddar, American, provolone….”

The X-Man watched the blonde beauty walk away, feeling alone for a moment on the dance floor as he watched her go. “Well, nice going Xand, my man. You just fumbled the touchdown…again. As if that’s anything new,” he muttered. Hopefully Willow and Cordelia were having better luck than he was…

Cordelia Chase and Willow Rosenberg were engaged in a conversation of sorts as they sat across from each other at a small table, nursing fancy coffee drinks. Well, if one could call it a conversation…

“So, how to begin?” Cordelia began, attempting to sound officious as she gestured with her hands for emphasis. “Okay! So, I thought that this would be an excellent time to get together, and like they teach in psychology, basically learn what your trauma is.”

Willow warily looked at the girl across from her, the ex-cheerleader who had often been a source of displeasure for her, to put it mildly. She still vividly remembered every time the cheerleader had sneered and laughed at her very presence, prompting her and Xander to form the “I Hate Cordelia” club so long ago. She scrunched her pixie-like face in puzzlement at Cordelia’s question. “My trauma?”

“Well, yeah!” Cordelia cleared her throat then took a deep breath. “Well, I meant to say, why is it you hate me? I mean, I can understand why you'd be jealous of me, it just goes without saying. But maybe tonight we can break some ground, make some progress if you will, and learn why you bear such animosities toward me. For starters, I would like to say that, well…to be perfectly fair and honest, your fashion sense still sucks.” She narrowed her eyes slightly as she more closely examined Willow’s off-color wardrobe. “I mean, you do need some serious work. But I, however am more than willing to…”

Willow glared at the ex-cheerleader incredulously. “Cordy, one of the first things out of your mouth is that my fashion sense still sucks? Wow, what a surprise! You were one of the first to tell me my clothes had seen the softer side of Sears, remember? I was practically your fashion piñata! You would take a swing at me any chance you got!”

Cordelia huffed and shot a glare of her own at the redhead. “Don’t interrupt me, Willow! Hello, I had the floor! And in answer to your question…I wasn’t trying to be mean, other than just stating the truth. Your clothes that day were rather Sears-ish.” Her face then brightened considerably. “But hey, we're talking, though, and that's progress, right? So, if we can keep this up, that means we're going to get along just fine!

At this, Willow’s face began to turn as red as her hair. “Get along just fine?!” She narrowed her eyes at the brunette until they became slits. “You’ve been tormenting me for years, you steal my best friend away from me, you continue to insult me, and now you say we’re going to get along just fine?!”

Cordelia narrowed her eyes dangerously back at the red head. “Yeah, well, you went all Lizzy Borden on me when you were under that spell and tried to kill me! I say that makes us even, Rosenberg, so get over it!”

Willow, however, wasn’t ready to back down. “Even?! You’ve treated all of us that weren’t part of your little clique like crap, you’ve been nothing but selfish, spoiled and rotten to everybody, and now you’re sitting here asking why I hate you?! You, you….” She held her breath for a moment then finally blurted out the word. “HO!”

Unfortunately for the little red head, though, the music had stopped and all was quiet the nanosecond before she had hurled the insult at the cheerleader.

Cordelia gasped audibly and looked like someone had slapped her hard in the face. Then her eyes took on a dangerous glint as Willow suddenly realized that everyone in the club had overheard her insult. “Rosenberg,” Cordy growled, “bet you wish you had that axe right about now, don’t you?”

Off away in a shadowed corner of the Bronze, away from prying eyes, the lone figure of a disquietingly handsome man watched the scene of the youthful attendants of the club play out before him, particularly the teens he knew as Xander, Willow, Cordelia, and above all else…Buffy.

Passion…it lies in all of us, the figure mused quietly, as he watched the young blonde, so deceptively petite, yet stunning, almost angelic in her beauty as she stood near the refreshment bar, alone.

He watched her, fascinated by her…perhaps, in no small part, due to the fact that they had once been together…well, before he’d had a change of heart, so to speak.

For a time, he had once been known as Angel, a vampire who had been rather remorseful, full of grief for his past deeds, seeking to make amends…at least, until the night of passion he and this lovely blonde, the Slayer of all people, had shared together…and since then, thanks to her in a rather ironic twist, he had once again become what he was known as to so many…

The vampire smiled as he shifted his focus to the banter between Willow and Cordelia. His supernaturally-attuned hearing picked up every word being thrown between the two…not that it was entirely difficult, particularly the last comment Willow appeared to have directed toward Cordelia. The vampire couldn’t resist the odd twinge of amusement. My, my, he thought to himself, sweet little Willow is finally starting to grow a spine, eh? Oh, but she could be fun, he thought. The very thought of taking her by her dainty little head, and ripping it out along with that selfsame spine attached almost gave him a small shiver of anticipation.

But, he didn’t want to rush anything just yet, as there were so many other options to consider first. Angelus just wanted to ensure that Buffy’s time with him would be, well, particularly special. All of Buffy’s friends; Xander, Willow, Oz, Cordelia, that tweed-clad librarian Giles, perhaps even that gypsy bitch Jenny Calendar, if he was in the mood. Actually, he had wondered if perhaps he should eviscerate dear, sweet Jenny first, just to see the looks of anguish on the dear Watcher’s face as well as Willow’s. And then, there always was Buffy’s mom, Joyce. Ah, now that could be especially fun….

Angelus smiled with anticipation as he stroked his chin thoughtfully. So much to do, and so little time. But, first things first…his eyes wandered toward a pretty brunette girl who stood near the refreshment bar. He noticed her exchange a few words and a smile with Buffy, before the Slayer turned and went back to meet with her friends. Yes, he thought, she would do nicely.

Later that night, four teenagers who’d more or less referred to themselves as the “Slayerettes” emerged from the rear exit of the Bronze, appearing to the world as just four kids who’d experienced a night of fun at the local hangout. However, a keen observer would have noticed that the short blonde girl and the tall boy were keeping the petite red head and the buxom brunette a safe distance from each other.

“So, that was just stupendous fun, wasn’t it, ladies?” Xander exclaimed all too brightly as he walked with a reassuring arm around Cordelia, who cast a baleful glare at Willow. Meanwhile, Buffy had a friendly yet firm arm around Willow, who also shot a nasty glare of her own at the ex-cheerleader. After noticing the stillness in the air, the X-Man hesitantly added, “Well, don’t speak up all at once.”

“Well, I thought it was fun,” Buffy added, perhaps a bit too brightly. “So much fun, that I think we should do it again tomorrow, and this time we should have Amy along too, just like Xander suggested,” the Slayer purred, emphasizing the last part of that sentence as she pointedly gazed at the young man. Cordelia and Willow broke eye contact with each other and redirected their nasty glares Xander’s way.

As the quartet strolled down the alley, it passed by what appeared to be another couple that appeared to be engaged in a passionate embrace. Sparing not a glance, they continued onward…having failed to notice that the woman as she slumped to the pavement, her skin pale as a bloodless corpse while the “man” who had held her looked on with morbid amusement.

Angelus sighed in satisfaction, letting the fresh blood course through his undead veins, before he spared a glance at the hapless victim who now lay dead at his feet. She’d been so easy…all he had to do was say a friendly “hello” with a promise of wanting to get to know her better, and she’d practically leaped into his arms, like a fly buzzing straight into a spider’s web. Nonetheless, she could be useful. Susan, that was her name, wasn’t it? Angelus would see to her later; perhaps by tomorrow night, she would become another useful servant, or more…

The vampire smiled to himself as he carefully began to follow the Slayerettes, watching them as they walked together hand in hand. For a moment they almost looked…quaint together. That is, until the Slayer appeared to suddenly come to a halt as she cried out and grasped her head in pain.

“Buffy, what is it?” Willow asked, instantly worried as she came to her friend’s side, along with Xander and Cordelia.

“I-I don’t know,” the petite blonde gasped, as she clutched her head. “I-it’s like this buzzing thing in my head that just won’t stop…ungh!” The Slayer gasped for breath as the world seemed to spin in and out of focus for several moments, the feeling increasing in intensity like a million insects buzzing inside her brain, before the pain finally subsided. Then, as if nothing had even happened, the sensation ceased altogether. The Slayer blinked in confusion, before looking around for a moment. “Oh-kay, that was odd.” She blinked again, before adding, “That was the trippiest and one of the nastiest headaches I’ve ever had. Uh, was that supposed to mean something?”

Xander appeared worried for a moment, before he shook his head in resignation. “See, I told ya, Buff, don’t tempt the Hellmouth! Now you’ve got the freaky thing giving you demonically-induced PMS!” After noticing another round of annoyed glares, the young man appeared reticent. “Okay, bad call on that one. Sorry.”

Buffy glanced around the area as she looked for trouble but saw none for the moment. “We’d better get going,” she said and soon the Slayerettes resumed their walk home.

Unseen by the wary Slayer, Angelus re-emerged from the shadows, intent on pursuing his prey. Then his finely-tuned eyesight detected something: off in another alleyway, hidden in the shadows, were two figures, cloaked in long dusters. One appeared to be a handsome dark-haired man with piercing eyes and an olive complexion, while the other appeared to be a very beautiful fair-skinned woman with long flowing raven hair and sensuous red lips. Both of them appeared to be watching the four teenagers rather intensely. Curious about this, the vampire carefully listened in with his attuned hearing, catching every syllable of the conversation that was taking place…

“That was close, baby-boo,” the woman purred in a soft, husky voice with a trace of a Ukrainian accent. “That little blonde Slayer almost found us.”

A scoff emanated from the dark-eyed man. “That would have hardly been a problem, my dark flower,” he replied in an accent with Turkish underpinnings to it. “That Slayer may be strong, yes. Dangerous, perhaps. But…she is also still young and inexperienced, much like her predecessors. And her friends, well, I doubt they would be much of a problem for us.”

The woman pursed her lips. “Perhaps so, dear. But that little Slayer also killed a friend of ours, remember? With an ice skating blade, of all things. Also, don’t forget a particular fact we just discovered…she’s one of our kind as well.”

The man paused in thought for a moment, before he smiled and pulled the woman closer to him. “True, my dear. However, with all due respect to the memory of our dearly departed friend, the Slayer succeeded only due to chance. And the fact that, well, she doesn’t even seem to realize what she’s become just yet, will make the prize for us all the sweeter.”

The woman pursed her lips in a mocking pout. “Oh, but we don’t want to kill her too soon, do we? Can’t we have some fun with her first…and her friends?”

A wicked smile flashed across the man’s face. “But of course, my dark flower.” He leaned closer to her face and whispered, “We’ll begin by cutting open her arms and legs…”

A sigh of arousal emanated from the woman, her eyes narrowed in delight. “Oh, baby, speak to me.”

“Oh…mmmm…yes,” the woman whispered as she brought her hands up to caress her own impressive cleavage.

The man grinned wantonly, while he gently brought up a hand to massage the toned front of her midriff. “And then we’ll slice her open right across her midsection here, like so. And watch her organs spill forth…”

“Oh baby, please,” the woman moaned as she grabbed the man’s hand and intertwined it with her own, before gently sliding it down to her overheated sex beneath her belt. “Please…don’t stop.”

The man leaned closer and whispered into the delicate shell of her ear. “And then, my love…as she’s on her knees before us, begging and sobbing for mercy…we’ll hack her apart, piece by piece….until…finally…”

“Oh yes, YES!” The woman cried out quietly, before quietly whispering. “Say it baby, say it…please.”

The woman snapped her head back and moaned with orgasmic delight, savoring the feel of her lover’s hands stroking the smooth curves of her womanhood. After several minutes of heavy breathing passed, she opened her eyes again and gazed upon her lover, a lethal yet sensual smile on her lovely face.

“And now…shall I tell you how we will sacrifice the Slayer’s friends as well?” the man asked with a diabolic grin.

The woman’s beautiful face was completely flush as she gazed upon her lover, smiling with enraptured joy. “Oh darling, I can’t take it anymore! Let’s go find someplace more private…say, a room with a large, soft bed, and continue our discussion there...baby-boo.”

The dark man grinned wickedly. “But of course.” With that, the couple intertwined their arms around each other’s waists and proceeded to walk away, unaware of the vampire who was enamored by the sight of such a darkly beautiful woman experiencing such orgasmic excitement in relation to the Slayer. The vampire mused on this for a moment, pondering his course of action. Then he decided to act…

“Nice evening for a walk,” Angelus called out casually, causing the couple to whip their heads around sharply in unison, toward the sound of his voice. The vampire emerged quietly from the darkness like a skilled predator, his eyes focused intently on these two new arrivals. With practiced skill and ease, the man and the woman separated gracefully and faced Angelus from different angles.

A feral smile flashed across the vampire’s face as he studied the couple, who regarded him warily. “You know,” he went on, pretending to scratch his chin as though a thought had just occurred to him, “some really bad things have been known to happen to couples around here.” His face then twisted into the fanged, beastlike visage of his true self. “Especially when they’re in dark alleys like this one.”

The man and woman coolly regarded the vampire, before the man drew an inwardly-curved yataghan sword, and the female in turn drew an outward-curving shashka saber. Each of the blades wickedly gleamed in the moonlight and made a distinct hiss as they were drawn from their hidden sheaths, respectively.

The vampire raised an eyebrow. “Of course, if the couple happened to be carrying a pair of pigstickers, it might be premature to think they’d find some trouble.”

The couple stood their ground, appearing to be unimpressed. “You are the vampire known as...Angelus, correct?” The man inquired casually. Meanwhile the woman continued to watch the vampire with her sword held in a relaxed, yet ready position.

Angelus shrugged casually and emphasized himself with both hands. “The one and only! What can I say? My reputation precedes me! I suppose I can’t help that though; word gets out when you’re having fun.” He leered particularly at the dark-haired beauty whose curvaceous, athletic form was garbed in leather pants and a tight turtleneck, her curves visible in spite of the long duster she wore. “Oh, and you might want to be careful with those big blades of yours…someone might take them and poke your eyes out someday.”

“We represent the Order of Taraka,” the woman noted in a formal, yet deadly tone. “I am Ivana, and this is Erekan. State your business, vampire,” the woman remarked coolly.

The vampire sighed. “You’re not one of those ‘All work and no play’ types, are you? No, obviously not, considering how frisky you two had gotten in regards to a certain pretty little blonde Slayer, am I right?”

The couple glared in kind at the darkly handsome vampire that stood before them. “Perhaps,” Erekan purred in an exotic, yet menacing voice. “The little blonde Slayer, known as Elizabeth Summers is marked for death by the Order. She has become quite a nuisance, along with her minions. We shall deal with them accordingly. You would do well not to interfere, since this is no longer your concern,” the man implied with a thinly-veiled threat.

Angelus sighed. “Oh, well, see here, friend, that’s where you’re wrong! First off, she doesn’t like to be called Elizabeth, she prefers to go by the name Buffy. And second…well, it is my concern, just because I care so very much about her, enough to slaughter each and every one of her classmates first, just to make her suffer a bit. But you see…even that isn’t enough.” The vampire, in spite of his game face seemed to take on a dreamy expression as he examined the possibilities. “I mean, think about this, I want to toy with her just as much as you do, but in a way that really, really makes her just completely utterly batty! Think about it…gutting her mother Joyce like a fish, popping the head off her little redheaded friend Willow, ripping out her wannabe boyfriend Xander’s entrails, and Jenny…ooh, much as they might have a little disagreement, I think doing something so simple as just taking her dainty little neck and twisting it a full three-sixty would leave a lasting impression on both my old squeeze and her Watcher. Her Watcher…oh, the games I can play with him! So basically, all I’m trying to say, is…” His face morphed into his deceptively human-looking, handsome self as he clasped his hands behind his back. “We seem to be operating on the same wavelength, so how about we team-up and have some fun together? I know how the girl eats, where she sleeps, how she dreams…everything. You, obviously, I imagine, have nice little tricks up your own sleeves that you’re just itching to pull out on this little girl. So, what do you say?”

The man and the woman seemed to regard each other almost telepathically for a moment, before they lowered their raised swords and answered the vampire with a pair of diabolical smiles. “Perhaps there is the possibility of having a joint effort on this little safari,” Ivana purred with a sensuous, yet deadly smile that was as menacing as it was intoxicating.

The vampire sighed wistfully. Now, here was a woman who truly spoke to him! It was indeed unfortunate he couldn’t take her as well…at least for now. “Then we have a deal. So indulge my curiosity, if you’d please and explain something to me…what exactly did you mean by saying Buffy was like you two…?”

At that, Scully muttered lowly, “This had better be good or I know four idiots who’d better put their worldly affairs in order before I hunt both you and them down like dogs!”

Mulder, with a slightly disturbed look on his face, glared warily at Scully just before he pressed the VCR’s start button. She was, after all, the crack shot between the two of them. “This tape was recorded on a security camera at the Sunnydale Shopping Mall, a couple of weeks ago. I don’t know how the Gunmen came by it, but they vouch for its authenticity,” he added right before he took a swig of his coffee. Suddenly, Mulder flinched and yelped. “Ouch!”

“My coffee—it was stone cold just a moment ago and now it’s boiling hot!”

“Great,” she mumbled, “nothing like having an X-file occur right under our noses,” she grumbled. “That’s easily explained, Mulder. You must have refilled your coffee mug just before I came in.” Ignoring his concerned look, she turned toward the television screen.

Scully saw the entrance to the mall where a group of strange-looking people came through the doors and stood atop the landing, leading down into the storefront section of the mall. One of the people appeared to be dressed in a costume that made him look like some sort of devil with blue skin and horns on his head.

Scully turned to her partner. “Mulder, is this some sort of weird practical joke?"

He simply answered her with a smirk and said, “Just watch the tape, Scully.”

As the tape continued to play, she saw the group split up, leaving a man and a woman standing beside the blue devil on the landing. Moments later, a man in a tan trench coat walked up the stairs toward the trio. As the trench-coated man approached the group, the man in the devil costume reached out toward the man in the trench coat and an arc of energy seemed to emit from the devil’s hand into the trench-coated man, apparently causing the hapless man to disappear in a puff of flame and smoke.

Scully saw what appeared to be energy beams that shot out from the blue devil and connected him to every person in the camera’s view, except for the two people standing next to him. Then, suddenly, the blue devil jerked, and the rays disappeared. He reached up to his chest, pulled something out, and threw it to the side. Reading his lips, it appeared to Scully that he said: “Who dares? You are a fool. No weapon forged of Man can stop me!” toward someone outside the camera's view.

Then the blue devil’s companions’ eyes opened wide. A second or so later, the man and the woman desperately leaped off the landing away from the devil. Meanwhile, the blue devil simply stood there with a puzzled look on his face and mouthed, “What’s that do?” The next moment, a streak of light struck the blue devil and blew him up into a million pieces, the intensity of the blast causing the screen to momentarily go white. After the glare subsided, the man and the woman who had stood at his side were shown lying on the concrete floor that was littered with broken glass from several blown-out windows. In spite of this however they managed to get up and run away. Then the recording ended.

“Mulder, what in the devil, pun intended, was that? Did the Gunmen fake this crap to yank my chain? This,” she shot her hand toward the TV screen, “can't be real! And if it is, then what destroyed the big blue guy?”

Mulder shook his head. “Trust me, Scully. They didn’t fake this tape. I checked news reports from that period of time out of Sunnydale and found that this event actually occurred.” When a quiet Scully glared sullenly at him and waited for him to continue, he added, “I had the Gunmen enhance sections of the tape. Apparently, the thing that he yanked from his chest was a crossbow bolt. Apparently, that’s what caused the energy beams to stop.”

Giving him her first smile of the night, even though it was a tiny one, she still nearly managed to steal his breath away. “Mulder, who exactly are we dealing with here, William Tell?” she quipped.

Shaking off his stupor, he said, “Not unless the Swiss national hero also had the expertise to fire an FGM-77 Dragon Anti-Tank Missile.”

Incredulous, Scully regarded her partner, her eyes comically wide open. “An FGM-77 Dragon Anti-Tank Missile?”

“Uh-huh. That’s the streak of light you saw that struck him before he exploded.”

Scully nodded woodenly. “Right…of course. Mulder…where would someone find a stray anti-tank weapon that happened to be lying around?”

Mulder tossed a manila folder marked with government restriction warnings and it landed on her desk near her fingertips. “Take a look at this, Scully. It's a confidential, Army CID report about the theft of a Dragon Anti-Tank system from a California depot around the time that this tape was filmed.”

Mulder then handed her another folder, this one contained a police report. “This might also pique your interest. Around the time we were investigating the Ronnie Strickland case, Philip Henry apparently was killed in Sunnydale by an unknown assailant while he attempted to visit a friend of his who works at Sunnydale High School, a…Rupert Giles.”

“Rupert?” Scully scoffed. “Who would be so cruel as to stick their kid with a name like that?”

Mulder grinned at that. And people said his sense of humor was warped! That was another thing he loved about her. Shaking off his musings, he said, “Anyway, Mr. Henry somehow was able to attack a medical technician and walk away from the morgue after his body had been identified by Mr. Giles. Remind you of someone else we know?”

As she slammed the door closed behind them, Scully snapped, cutting him off. “Then you didn’t do it right, Mulder!”

He stood at the rail and watched his granddaughter effortlessly take the highest jump on her thoroughbred filly, enjoying the magnificence of her mastery of the mighty beast and the crisp air that gently sang through the leafless trees in the early February morning . However, his enjoyment dimmed when he heard a car pull up on the crusty snow-embanked road nearby, followed shortly by the sound of a car door opening and closing. As he heard the soft rustle of a large man’s footsteps approach him, then minutely wrinkled his nose at the stench of cigarette smoke, he didn’t bother to look at his visitor. “What, pray tell, brings the ‘King of the Road’ to darken my door step?”

The Well Manicured Man turned and regarded him with his right eyebrow wryly cocked. “You must realize by now that I come out here because there are no phones. What is it?”

“Fox Mulder and Dana Scully have flown to California to investigate the theft of an anti-tank weapon from the Army.”

The well-groomed Englishman pursed his lips in thought. “Yes, I remember hearing about this incident. It took place near a town called Sunnydale, if I recall. But does this have anything to do with us?”

The rumpled-looking American shook his head in response. “No. But there is something else we need to discuss.”

The Cigarette Smoking Man took a drag of his cigarette, then exhaled. The smoke curled away as he paused to examine the cigarette pinched between his fingers. “Last night, our hidden camera in their office showed that Agent Scully may have already begun to exhibit certain abilities that could be the result of the…experiment.”

The Well Manicured Man’s eyes narrowed in anger. “You fool, you stupid fool! This must be corrected; this must be handled!”

The Cigarette Smoking Man’s hands gently patted the air in an attempt to calm the other man. “There is no need for alarm! All the necessary steps and precautions have already been made. Besides,” the American continued, the hint of a smile forming on his face, “if this new development is indeed true, coupled with the preliminary results of the experiment thus far, it’s quite possible our Miss Scully will become an even greater success than the others.”

The Englishman’s eyes opened wide momentarily before narrowing again. “Have you gone completely daft? Do you presume this to be some sort of child’s game? My God, if what you say is true, you have no idea at all what you may have unleashed, do you?!”

The American cooly regarded the man before him. “It’s always a game. Like chess, you just need to know where to move the pieces on the board. And ’unleashed’ would hardly be an accurate word, considering that the subject in question is well under our control. Once Agent Scully has progressed further in her new condition, her loyalty to us will be complete; she simply won’t have a choice...and neither will Agent Mulder.” A sly smile once again crept onto his face. “We’ve seen how much Agent Mulder cares for his ‘partner’, haven’t we? He’ll follow her wherever she goes...which leads, inevitably, to us.” He paused for a moment to take another puff from his cigarette before he casually flicked it away. The smoker then withdrew a pack of Morleys from his inside jacket pocket, removed another cigarette, and placed it in his mouth before he proceeded to light it with a cheap butane lighter. He paused to savor the new cigarette’s flavor before he withdrew it from his mouth. “I think we should consider this ‘challenge’ an opportunity rather than an obstacle.”

Fuming, the Englishman snapped, “If you had listened to me in the first place, we wouldn’t have to address this ‘challenge’ at all! It’s clear that your obsession with Mr. Mulder has jeopardized the entire project!”

The other man took another deep drag from his cigarette then exhaled the smoke forcefully. “I said I’ll handle it.”

The Well Manicured Man sneered. “This is not another situation you can ‘handle’ with a few mere bullets!” His gaze then noticed three female passengers sitting in the car behind the American. His eyes lit up immediately when he recognized them, before turning his eyes back to gaze sharply at the rumpled man. “What are they doing here?” the Englishman asked in a suspicious tone.

The Cigarette Smoking Man smirked. “Ah, yes...how careless of me. I forgot to mention, the committee feels that closer observation of Miss Scully during this phase of her development is warranted. And who better to assist in this endeavor than three of our other rather successful...subjects?” The American made a gesture with one of his hands, beckoning the females to join him. Nodding, the trio of young women exited the car gracefully, their movements in almost perfect synchronicity as they strode toward the two men. Of course, there was another reason why the women, each of whom appeared in their mid-twenties and of average height, had caught the Englishman’s eye...

The sheer beauty of each of the women could not be denied. The woman on the left appeared to possess a fine mix of Hispanic and European, along with a small hint of Asian. Her heart-shaped face belied her dark, angelic eyes and poutish lips framed by silky waves of raven hair. Her body was lean, yet remarkably taut, curvaceous and atheletic, dressed in what appeared to be a dark leather jacket, a matching shirt that exposed her midriff, and a pair of ebony, tight fitting leather pants that fit her perfectly. The two other women were no less beautiful than their companion, however. The woman on the right possessed an olive-tinged complexion that appeared almost angelic, with fine delicate cheekbones, perfect lips and expressful dark brown eyes, topped with a silky wave of chestnut hair. Her slender frame was also perfectly encased in a leather outfit similiar to her companion’s, although hers was more of a light tan in color. Likewise, the woman in the center was a deceptively innocent-looking beauty with fair skin and stylishly cut blonde hair that flowed down to her shoulders, highlighting a lovely face that held a pair of sparkling green eyes and glossy pink lips. She too, wore a similiar leather outfit that encased her exquisite, athletic body to perfection, in a striking shade of crimson.

The three beautiful young women stopped within a few feet of the men, each with welcoming smiles on their lovely faces, their eyes twinkling slightly as though they reflected the light of day rather nicely...or something else.

The Cigarette Smoking Man however had a smile all his own. “Maxine....Natalie...Scarlet,” he spoke with a hint of amusement, noticing that the Well Manicured Man appeared to be fidgeting slightly in their presence, “won’t you be so kind as to say hello to our friend?”

“Hello, sir,” Maxine, the raven-haired women offered with a stunning smile that nearly stole the Englishman's heart away...

Until the woman in the center, Scarlet, drawled, “Good day, sir”, managing to take his breath away, as well.

The man nearly struggled to breath as Natalie, the last of the three, graced him with a smile that was simply angelic. “Greetings sir,” she purred softly.

The Well Manicured Man, in spite of his stoic appearance, felt his gut quiver uncomfortably as the women continued to stand before him quietly, sentinel-like as they awaited another order from the American. He noted the smirk that was still plainly evident on the rumpled man’s face, causing him to glare at the American in annoyance. “Good day,” he noted curtly to the women, before addressing the man who continued to smoke his cigarette. “No matter their talents, these three are still young. Trained, perhaps, but are they suited for this task?”

“Of course they are,” the Cigarette Smoking Man offered with a flash of mild surprise on his face that matched the other females, although the Englishman couldn’t tell if the American’s expression was mocking or genuine. “Why would you doubt them? They’ve already proven their worth.” He turned to the women. “Ladies...aren’t you eager to meet our Agent Scully?”

Natalie smiled like a cat that had caught the canary along with her companions. “We look forward to welcoming Dana Scully into the Hive, sir.”

The American nodded and took a puff of his cigarette. “And if we happen to run into any difficulties...?”

The women’s expressions hardened, the twinkle in their eyes replaced by something that could only be described as cold, cruel efficiency. “There will not be any difficulties, sir,” Maxine began in a deadly tone.

“Those who pose a threat to Dana Scully, us, or the Creators will be eliminated,” Scarlet added flawlessly, her voice cold and direct.

“Whatever the Creators may desire...” Natalie began in a voice that was equally deadly.

The Cigarette Smoking Man nodded in satisfaction before he turned back to the Englisham, and took another puff on his cigarette. “Bright, capable, obedient, and eager to please.” A smile that hinted of sardonism appeared on his face. “All rather desirable traits in a woman, especially in this day and age, wouldn’t you agree?”

The Well Manicured Man glared at the Cigarette Smoking Man in disgust. “Perhaps you have been playing too long with these pretty little toys.” He shuddered at a horrible thought that ran through his mind then glared at the American. “I don’t think you realize what’s at stake here, what level this must involve. This matter requires subtelty. It will require more than just a good aim!”

With that, the Englishman stalked off toward his granddaughter and her mount, while the American watched him go and continued to savor his cigarette. Behind the Cigarette Smoking Man, the three females shared a small smile before wrapping their arms sensuously around each others' waists.

As the night settled over the California countryside, a nondescript Hertz rental car cruised along a lonely stretch of road on U.S. Route 101. The two occupants inside the vehicle, a dark haired young man with an inquisitive air around him who drove behind the wheel, and a highly attractive redheaded woman with a cool demeanor around her who rode as the passenger, fiddled amiably with the vehicle’s radio, picking up various broadcasts.

“That’s right! It really works! I used to be a failure with women, but now I’m a certified ladies man! My penis grew THREE inches in just THREE weeks! And it can happen to you too for just—“

The woman frowned in annoyance, appearing even more irritated by the wicked smirk of the driver, and promptly changed the channel.

“I say HALLELUJAH, my brothers and sisters, HALLELUJAH! Now-uh whatever dee-monic afflictions or sickness may be afflicting you-uh at this very momen-uh, or if the Devil himself is attempting to steal your soul-uh, don’t you worry none-uh, because you just lay your hands right now on your radio-uh, and you all’s gonna be HEALED!”

The driver this time whistled in an annoyed fashion, and swiftly changed the radio station after a brief play of static.

“Tomorrow night, be sure to tune in for the adapted radio adventures of one of the coolest new comics to hit the shelves! That’s right, not since the Golden Age of Radio has there been such an exciting series adapted just for the airwaves! Don’t miss the awesome, suspenseful, spine-tingling, adventures of…THE GREAT MUTATO!”

The car’s occupants shared a momentary look of disbelief, before both of them had a brief race as to whose finger could hit the station search button on the radio the quickest…

“Sisters of the earth, as you venture forth into this uncertain world full of darkness, pain and suffering, do you feel helpless? Do you feel oppressed in this world of men? Do you seek enlightenment beyond your dreary, mundane consumer-oriented life? Worry no more, fellow sisters. At last, the Ascended Ones, who we crudely refer to as ‘aliens’, they who left this planet long ago in their great circular ships, have returned to the earth to teach and transform us, dear sisters, to be reborn anew. Become free of oppressive morality, attuned to the beauty of our sexuality and our bodies, attuned to the unlimited powers that dwell within our minds. Join the Sisterhood of the Universal Ascension, dear sisters, and become one with the universe. One mind, one body, one vision, one voice…

“Don’t change the channel, Mulder, I think we finally found something that interests you,” Dana Scully commented dryly with a half-bored, half-amused look on her exquisite face.

Fox Mulder, the other FBI agent who was behind the wheel, gave the redheaded agent one of his patented crooked smiles. “I dunno, Scully. As startling as it might sound, I don’t think I buy the ‘little green men’ sales pitch, but the girl’s bedroom voice is pretty hot. Think there’s a chance she’ll mention a 1-900 number?”

Scully rolled her eyes in resignation. Here they were, yet again in another rental car, on another highway stretching across the American landscape, traveling toward yet another town in America that was home to some weird story or unexplained phenomena that could only be considered by the FBI to be an “X-File.” Whether it was killer mutations, occult crimes, supposed alien abductions, or as it seemed any other sort of assorted weirdness, the duo had been investigating it all, together for the last five years or so now. And now, they were driving into yet another town in America, one called Sunnydale, in the state of sunny California, a particular town that was also supposedly known by another name…Boca Del Infierno, the Hellmouth.

The agents had managed to survive the trip thus far, after surviving the red-eye flight to LAX airport. However, when they’d ended up in Los Angeles, an administrative screw-up involving delayed flights, misplaced luggage and a problem with the local rental car company had forced them to check into a motel room for the day. After the matter had finally been resolved, the afternoon had more or less consisted of a hellish traffic jam throughout a Los Angeles that was still recovering from last year’s Colombian/Jamaican drug war, drivers inflicted with road rage, lousy diner food, and watered-down coffee. After what had been more or less a hellish day in itself, Scully couldn’t help but find the grand irony in their final destination.

“Doth my ears deceive me, or hath Agent Scully found something amusing to which I am amiss?” Mulder inquired wryly.

The female agent shook her head before glancing at her companion. “Mulder, it’s just...after all the endless trips we’ve taken, after all the cases we’ve been on, chasing after some supposed ‘unexplained’ phenomenon for which usually exists some sort of logical explanation...”

Scully sighed. “My point is, Mulder...it just seems after everything we’ve been through, I’m rather surprised that the only phenomenon we haven’t yet gone after or encountered is Elvis sightings.”

A wicked gleam emanated from Mulder’s eye. “Really? It’s funny you mention that Scully, because there was this recent sighting in Georgia...”

They rode in silence for a few minutes. Mulder, even though he loved these bouts with his partner, deep down knew that if there were only a few people on this earth that he truly was willing to trust with his life, Scully was one of them. The redhead had almost literally gone through hell and high water, putting her career, her life and her sanity on the line numerous times in Mulder’s defense...but not without a cost. Scully had lost her own beloved sister in a botched assassinaton, and she herself had been abducted by unknown sinister forces, only to come back with a life-threatening disease. She might have died if not for the implantation of a mysterous microchip offered by an individual who had been more of an adversary than a benefactor for the duo, dubbed “Cancer Man”. And that hadn’t been all...the worst had come when the two had discovered that Scully had a daughter as a result of the experiment, only for the young child to quickly die of a mysterious illness of her own. With such an emotional load to bear, it might have been the proverbial straw that had broken the redheaded agent’s back, but yet she refused to budge, steadfastedly remaining by her partner’s side.

For all that, Mulder hoped that he could at least make this trip somewhat passable, if nothing else. So far, though, judging by Scully’s demeanor it hadn’t gotten off to a promising start.

“Have you had a chance yet to go through that other file on Sunnydale I brought along, Scully?”

The female agent looked down to the manila folder at her side, before giving her partner an incredulous look. “You mean this one, in addtion to the two dozen other files the Lone Gunmen were all too happy to send us? With all due respect Mulder, after reading those two dozen other files full of...stuff that seems straight out of a B-horror movie schlock collection, I thought I’d give this one a pass.”

“C’mon Scully,” Mulder smiled sweetly. “You can’t have any cake unless you eat all your veggies first.”

Scully affixed her partner with a deadly glare that, to her satisfaction, made her partner visibly wince slightly, before she picked up the folder and began perusing through it. To her surprise, she found the file to contain information on, according to a photo that was included, a winsome blonde girl. “Elizabeth Anne Summers, age seventeen, currently residing with mother Joyce Summers, who’s divorced. Junior at Sunnydale High School. Believed to be often referred to by her nickname...Buffy??”

A small smile tugged at the corner of Scully’s delectable mouth. “I had a friend whose pooch was named Buffy.” She continued to read further through the files. “Mulder...there seems to be a fair amount of police reports included in her file. Doesn’t say she’s ever been charged or convicted of any felony, but it seems she’s been questioned in quite a few cases involving vandalism and homicide.” Scully read on, her interest piqued. “She appears to have been transferred to Sunnydale High School after she was expelled from her previous high school in Los Angeles on the suspicion that she was involved in...burning down the school gymnasium?”

Scully glared at her partner again before continuing to read through the file. “Maybe so, Mulder, but apparently she was cleared of all charges.” She then frowned. “I’m not sure I buy the fire marshall’s explanation that it was asbestos-related though.” She sighed in resignation and closed the file. “Mulder, you’re not actually considering this girl to be a suspect in any of these incidents, are you?”

Mulder spared another glance at her partner, allowing Scully to see that gleam in his eye that meant he was onto something that he wasn’t going to let go. “What we’ve discussed is only the tip of the iceberg, Scully. If you cross-reference those cases with some of those others found in the files, they’ll match. What’s more, you’ll find that there was a recent death in the Summers’ home involving a Ted Buchanan, who apparently was dating Mrs. Summers at the time. Cause of death was supposedly ruled as an accidental fall down a flight of stairs, although Bu—exuse me, Elizabeth Summers was for a whle suspected. What’s interesting about this Buchanan fellow is that according to his marriage certificates he was married four times, with no divorces. Which would appear to be nothing more than a case of unlawful bigamy, that is until the discovery of all four of Mr. Buchanan’s previous wives, who were all deceased and stuffed into the closet of an underground bunker that was set up like a den room he’d constructed for himself, somewhat like the Bluebeard legend. And on top of all that, Mr. Buchanan’s first marriage was apparently registered in the year 1957.”

Mulder attempted to dodge Scully’s withering glare with a grin before continuing. “What’s also interesting is that just like Phillip Henry and the case of Ronnie Strickland, Ted Buchanan’s body disappeared from the morgue as well. Notice a trend, Scully?”

Scully shut her eyes for several moments before opening them again. “Mulder, just what kind of loony bin are we venturing into this time?”

A crooked smile flashed along Mulder’s face again, with a hint of mischief. “What’d I tell ya, Scully? Where else could you find a place called the Mouth of Hell that’s also sunny?”

The female agent wasn’t quite ready to let the matter rest, though. “Mulder, I think you’re getting ahead of yourself here, again. Having multiple wives, though unlawful, is not uncommon. Those marriage certificate dates could have easily been faked, and as for these instances of bodies disappearing from the morgue, which according to these files appears to be fairly common in Sunnydale...well, there are plenty of organ smuggling rings that operate worldwide. With such a high demand for replacement organs, bone marrow, femurs and so forth, it wouldn’t surprise me if there was some sort of smuggling ring operating in Sunnydale, especially with the homicide rate as high as it is.”

Mulder shook his head. “I’m not so sure, Scully. I think after questioning Mr. Giles, we should also pay Elizabeth Summers a visit as well.”

The redhead glared at her partner in disbelief. “Mulder..this girl is seventeen years old, attends high school like most other girls her age, and lives with her mother. You honestly don’t think this girl would be capable of inflicting all this mayhem, do you?”

The agent shrugged. “Who can really say, Scully? As bizarre as this sounds, it’s probably no crazier than some of these other cases we’ve had that involved teenagers, like the cosmic-related deaths in Caryl County that revolved around the two girls, or the case of that kid Daniel Peter Oswald who killed several people with lightning. You know, there’s a theory among some occultists that certain supernatural phenomenon is directly linked to teenage adolescents, particularly young girls, due to the fact that—“

“I get the point, Mulder,” Scully growled dangerously. “Let’s just be careful when we question her, we don’t want to traumatize this poor girl any further than she might already be.” A sigh of exhaustion rolled out from her as she hunched in her seat. “I knew I should have taken a vacation,” she muttered, before she brought up her hands to massage her temples.

“I’m fine, Mulder. I guess...I don’t know.” She fidgeted slightly in her seat. “I’ve been feeling kind of odd since we left D.C., almost like a tingling sensation inside. I can’t shake it.”

“Must be the jet lag...and the food.. I guess the cold pizza we had earlier didn’t help much, huh?”

Scully shot an irritated look at her partner again. “Whatever gave you that idea, Mulder?”

“We’re still a half hour away from Sunnydale, why don’t you get some rest? I’ll wake you when we get there...or if we get abducted by little green men, whichever comes first.”

The redhead vainly tried to suppress a grin and a chuckle, which brought a genuine smile to Mulder’s face. “Thanks.” She snuggled into her seat.

Scully’s eyes opened wide and looked at her partner, noticing the mischievous gleam in his eye again. “Like what?”

An evil smile spread along Mulder’s handsome face, before he broke into song. “I love you, you love me, we are all one ha-ppy fa-mi-ly...”

“MULDER! Sing that Barney song, again,” she reared herself up, before smiling like a cobra, “and I’ll tell every man and woman at the Bureau what you sang while Ronnie Strickland drugged you.”

The cobra-like smile on Scully’s face didn’t abate as she sang, “Who’s the black private dick who’s a sex machine with all the chicks? SHAFT! Can ya dig it?”

Mulder looked on in terror at his partner, one due to the fact that Scully had sung that, and two...well, to imply that he had sung it. “Scully, for the one-hundredth time, I did not—“

“My word against YOURS, Mulder,” Scully replied sweetly, before she snuggled back into her seat and closed her eyes.

The male agent sullenly turned his eyes back to the ever-yawning road ahead that stretched on into the night. “Shaft,” he muttered.

How did she get here? She couldn’t remember. There were lights, there were men, and now...

She looked around and noticed that she was in a room of some sort. It was dark, with hardly any light, and cool. She could see little, except for what appeared to be the cold steel of the floor she stood on. She looked down at her feet, and then noticed something.

Shivering, she tried vainly to rub her arms together in an attempt to fight off the chill that seemed to hang in the air and cling to her tender skin. She could hear a faint, pulsing hum of some sort. Almost like the sound of machinery, but different. It almost felt like something that wasn’t audible, but more like something that seemed to hum inside her brain...

Determined to find out where she was, she quietly walked along the floor in the darkness, until she was able to spot the dim silhouette of a doorway up ahead. Hoping to find some sort of exit from this place, she ventured forth. As she came closer to the entrance, or exit to whatever lay ahead, she noticed that a faint silver light could be seen emanating from within. It gently brightened, then dimmed with a steady pulse that matched the faint, pulsating hum that she could feel reverberating throughout. Taking a deep breath, she fought a wave of anxiety before she pushed through the doorway, into the room ahead...and gasped in shock.

She couldn’t tell how large the room was, but it seemed quite enormous as it stretched before her. The pulsating light, which appeared to be the only source of illumination within the massive chamber, emanated from what appeared to be at least several dozen long, vertical pods that appeared to be constructed of glass and were arranged around the chamber. Each appeared to be suspended aloft in a vertical position, held by what appeared to at first be a series of long, elongated mechanical coils of a dark steel construct that traveled along the ground, toward a central pod that rose above the others upon several concentric circles of similiar materiall. Upon closer inspection, however, the coils did not appear to be anything man-made, as their weird assymetry, snakelike nature, and the velvety-like appearance of the material seemed to suggest something almost organic. However, it was not the pods that had caused her to gasp...

Each woman appeared to be in some state of suspension inside the pods, eyes closed, in some sort of silver-like gel or fluid that rose up around them completely, from head to toe. Indeed, the fluid itself appeared to be the source of the pulsating light that bathed the chamber, each of the women and herself in a rich glow. In fact, strangely, she herself felt a pleasant tingling sensation along her skin whenever the warm light pulsated around her. Struggling to concentrate, she examined the pod more closely, and saw that there was in fact no glass whatsoever, but instead some sort of energy field that kept the fluid and the women in place, generated by an unknown source.. What appeared to be tendrils of some kind spiralled down from the inside of each of the pods, and were gently attached to each of the women’s temples and forehead, while another pair of tendrils seemed to gently snake into the woman’s ears..

The women, however, were without doubt the most stunning part of this strange, alien design. As she gazed closer at the woman within one of the pods, an incredibly beautiful woman with long, flowing brunette hair that befitted a sensuous face and impossibly curvaceous body, she noticed that indeed each of the women were nothing short of beautiful, almost divine. She gazed over at another woman, one with an equally exqusite face and stunning figure, with elegantly wavy red hair, and then saw what it was. They were all perfect...too perfect. As she looked over another woman in a pod, one with dark skin and closely cut dark hair that belied a feline sensuality, she couldn’t even believe these women were human. Their hair that floated dreamlike around their heads like a halo was perfectly wavy without split ends. Their skin was smooth and perfect like alabaster, devoid of any bruises, marks or blemishes, while their long arms and shapely legs were completely denuded of any hair. Their breasts were all round, firm and erect. Their faces, eyebrows, cheeks and lips were all of a beautiful color and perfectly chiseled. All their curves were elaborate and exquisite, lending a voluptuousness to their bodies that would have made any model jealous with envy, yet belied supple muscles beneath that hinted toward a strong athleticism within each of the several dozen women that hung suspended, dreamlike in each of the pods.

She stepped to get a closer look at another woman, this one with stunning raven hair that framed a voluptuous body and seductive face only to stop when she noticed something shimmering on the floor that encircled each of the pods. As she bent down to take a closer look, she recoiled when she saw that there appeared to be a concentric circle of some sort of black oil, or shimmering dark fluid that almost seemed to pulsate with a life of it’s own. Hesitant, she stepped back, and turned her eyes to the pod that rose above the others, within which also contained a nude, perfect human female, with almost angelic-like silver-blonde locks that belied a face and body that, if at all possible, perhaps was even more stunning than the other women. Her eyelids, though closed, seemed to flutter momentarily...until they snapped open revealing two cold, yet sensual and seductive ice-blue orbs.

She gasped in shock, again, when she saw that every other woman had their eyes wide open...and were all gazing at her. Feeling a sense of panic, she attempted to move...only for the glow that illuminated the chamber become even brighter, but this time a constant light that was more steady, bathing her with a tingling sensation of pleasure that was felt along her entire body. It was a euphoric, almost drug-like affect that left her mind buzzing with an intense pleasure not unlike sexual stimulation. Indeed, she felt her erogenous zones, her neck, breasts and womanhood tingle intensely with desire. For a second, instead of running, she almost felt rather like reaching inside herself and attempting to alleviate the intense pleasure she now felt...until she noticed she could not even move, take a step, or even raise an arm or utter a sound. She stood where she was, perfectly still, all attempts at movement or rational thought instead diverted to the erotic, hazy drug-like euphoria she was now in.

Through her eyes she could now see each of the women as they began to move from within the pods. The tendrils and wires that were attached to their bodies slowly detached unto themselves and quietly retracted. The women then, all in one smooth, fluid motion, gracefully exited from the pods. Their long shapely legs first penetrated outwards from the force field of the pods , the silver fluid perfectly melting away from their skin. Their magnificent breasts soon followed, and then by the rest of their bodies as they gracefully decended from the pods, then came to a stop. As she continued to watch through a euphoric haze, the oil slicks that encircled each of the tubes began to gather around each of the women. Before her wide-eyed gaze, the oil-like substance began to sinuously travel up along the length of the women’s long legs, almost like an organism that was carefully swallowing, or perhaps more accurately assimiliating a host. The women did not seem to panic, however, but rather seemed to be in a momentary state of euphoria of their own as the black, shimmering material traveled up further, coating their skin before it reached around their hips momentarily, bringing a collected sigh of arousal from each and every one of them. Undaunted, the substance continued to slide further up their bodies, coating their breasts and traveling out along their arms, until the women were all coated in the substance, from neck to toe. It almost appeared each of them wore a second skin, albeit a skin that had a midnight glossy sheen and formed perfectly around every one of their curves. The women’s legs then arced up seductively, as the substance appeared to carefully form a set of heels beneath each of their feet. Their magnificent breasts, encased by the substance, heaved noticeably as they all took several breaths, before smiling mysteriously in her direction. In unison they all turned toward her and strutted in a very sensual, yet provocative manner, the “suits” they wore enhancing the allure of every step they took.

Even though she was a woman, she could not help having her breath taken away by how stunningly seductive and alluring they were in spite of their alien apperance. Indeed, somehow the alien affect of these women only seemed to enhance it. Struggling to speak, she could only get a few words out. “Wh-what do you want...with me? Wh-who are you? WHAT are you?”

The women only continued to smile, before they all stopped within a few feet of her. She found it even more difficult to even think clearly when the females brought up their hands and began to stroke her body, ever gently. At that moment, all rational thought dissappeared.

Normally, she would have recoiled in disgust by such an act, but instead her mind only registered a mind-numbing pleasure that blotted out anything and everything else. She moaned loudly with desire, as she felt the impossibly smooth, soft hands of these strangers smoothly intermingle in and out, each of them taking turns to massage her entire body, leaving nothing untouched, most especially her erogenous zones. As she began to feel a heat build up inside her, she almost felt like there were thousands of voices inside her mind, other than her own, whispering to her, compelling her, commanding her to submit...

As she writhed helpless with ecstasy, the woman barely acknowledged the fact that the beautiful silver-blonde woman had also emerged from the tallest of the pods and descended, and was now likewise encased in a gleaming set of glossy black material that encased her entire body. It formed a perfect contrast to her silver-blonde locks as she gracefully descended to the ground with each careful step from her long, lush legs. The other females parted in unison, bowing their heads slightly as they allowed the blonde to come and stand in front of her. The woman’s ice-blue orbs began to shimmer, almost hypnotically, and she felt helpless to do nothing except fall into their endless glowing depths. As she felt her mind disappear altogether within a swirling vortex, she felt her body surge forth when the blonde reached out with her gentle hands and touched and stroked the inner depths of her womanhood, eliciting a distant cry of pleasure as the warmth from her orgasm spread throughout her body.

As she floated in a haze of indescribable pleasure, she felt a new voice inside her mind, that was more authoritative in tone as it rose above the endless drone of all the others, yet felt completely irresistible and seductive as it semed to draw her completely inside.

YOU WILL BE AN EXCELLENT ADDITION TO OUR COLLECTIVE, the voice droned. Somehow Dana knew it came from the silver-blonde woman, yet she saw no flow of words from her lips.

YES, the other voices, other thoughts that seemed to flow through her brain all spoke in unison.

Her vision then completely turned white, becoming aware of almost nothing, as though her soul had begun to float independently of her body. Soon her vision returned, however...only to find herself being gently laden into a pod that was like the others, except that it lay at a horizontal angle. She felt her skin tingle as her body was slowly immersed in the transluscent silver-colored liquid that pulsated with a steady glow. She could feel multiple alien tendrils begin to attach to various parts of her body, each feeling like a small stinger that stung her flesh momentarily, only to be replaced with a warm sensation that began to spread through her. And yet, all she could see was a briliant, hypnotic, pulsating light that bore down upon her, the light feeling as though it was burning into her subconscious, opening her mind to all sorts of new possiblities.

A silhouette of a man appeared in her vision, smoking a cigarette. The face leaned closer for a moment, blocking the intense pulsating light that flooded her vision. She recognized the features almost immediately, but could do nothing except lie and watch as the man continued to smoke his cigarette, scrutinizing her closely before nodding. “You can begin,” he said simply, and with that he moved out of her vision, to have him replaced by the silhouette of the silver-blonde woman, again, who smiled at her affectionately.

“Worry not, Dana Scully,” she whispered fondly in a Boston-Brahmin accented voice, the first time she heard her speak as she gently caressed her cheek. “Soon, you will become like us...a goddess among men.”

With that, she reverently kissed her forehead, before her her head was gently immersed into the fluid of the pod altogether, while she could still hear the multitude of voices inside her mind that droned in unison...

Dana jerked awake as she heard Mulder’s voice. She quickly whipped her head around, perhaps a dozen times, reascertaining where they were. No, it had been just a dream. She was still in the car, with her partner.

Scully blinked a few times as she reasserted herself in the land of the wide awake. “Just thought I’d let you know, we’re almost there,” Mulder offered as their car began to climb down an exit off the highway. As the car completed its turn, Mulder noticed Scully had a puzzled expression on her face. “What?”

The redhead turned to her partner and, in a very careful voice, said “Mulder...from now on, we are NOT going to eat cold pizza on any road trips. Agreed?”

Mulder looked at her, puzzled. “Yeah, sure, I guess. I suppose we could always go with cold Chinese take-out instead...” His voice trailed off when he saw the sillhouette of something burning by the side of the road in the distance. “What’s that?”

Scully squinted when she saw the flaming wreck of what appeared to be a car come closer within their field of vision. “Mulder, stop the car,” she ordered. She didn’t have to utter the command, as the agent was already slowing down as they approached the wreck. Soon, their car came to a complete stop and both of the agents jumped out.

Mulder valiantly tried to get closer to the car to see if there was anyone inside, but if there was, there appeared to be little, if any chance they would be alive in this wreck. The car itself looked like it had been blown apart from the inside by a bomb or some sort of explosive, as the doors appeared to be bent outwards from some sort of shockwave. The crimson flames licked the shattered steel of the car relentlessly, as though hungering for more.

“Already on it, Mulder.” The redhead spoke into her cellphone as the agent looked around for any signs of life, or trouble. Finding none, he returned to his partner, who pocketed her cellphone.

“Fire department and EMS should be here soon, Mulder,” Scully said as she glanced at the wreckage. On the side of one of the doors, the blackened crest of what appeared to be the Sunnydale police department was barely visible, along with the motto “To Protect and to Serve” . “I don’t think we need to worry about finding anyone alive in there, though. Were you able to see anything?”

Mulder shook his head. “No. Let’s take a look around.” The other agent nodded and switched on their portable flashlights, and began carefully checking around the flaming wreckage of the police car for any sign of clues.

“Looks like there’s a fresh set of tire tracks over here, Scully,” Mulder called out from the side of the road, not far from the front of the wreck. The female agent walked over to have a closer look. “Look at the width of the treads, it seems a bit wider than the tires you’d normally find on a car. A truck, maybe? And from the amount of dirt that’s been kicked up here,” he continued, pointing out with his flashlight, “It looks like someone left in a hurry.”

Scully nodded. “Probably so. Have a look at this.” She beckoned him over to the right lane of the road, upon which several empty brass shell casings could be seen lying on the pavement. Both of the agents hunched down to examine them more closely. “Looks like several pistol-caliber cartridges, possibly .45 caliber, and several rifle-caliber cartridges, possibly .223.” Scully shown her flashlight further along the pavement, and caught something within the light. “What’s that?”

Both agents trained their lights on what appeared to be a small scattered pile of dust on the pavement, surrounded by burnt pieces of leather, a slightly charred nightstick, and a metal lapel with the name “Henderson” stenciled on it.

“That doesn’t look too encouraging, Scully,” Mulder said quietly. Fishing out a small plastic bag, he then quickly put on a rubber glove and put a small sample of the ashes in the bag.

“We don’t even know what that is just yet, Mulder,” Scully pointed out, though she shivered slightly at the possiblity of what it could mean. The agent surveyed the scene of carnage around her, before shaking her head. “What the hell happened here?”

“I don’t know. Maybe somone got pulled over by the police and he overrreacted?”

Scully looked at her partner incredulously. “Overreacted, Mulder? How? By pulling out a machine gun and a death ray?” She shook her head and stood up, before working a kink out of her neck as her partner followed suit. As they did so, they glanced over at the weathered “Welcome to Sunnydale!” sign that hung in big bold letters before them.

As John Roper drove his gleaming black Hummer down the road leading toward the municipality of Sunnydale, he cursed under his breath. Goddamn vampire cops, this evening is already in the crapper! Personally he was happy to get a bit of target practice early that evening, but he wasn’t happy that he’d had to torch a police cruiser in the process...well, actually he was, he just wasn’t happy that the female vampire had been able to get on the radio a moment before she and the car had been turned into a barbecue. That plus the obvious indication that the vampires, along with who-knew-whatever-else was pretty well entrenched in this town, and there was no telling how far up the chain it went. The good news was that the fiery destruction also ensured that the police camera had been destroyed, so he didn’t have to worry about the incident being caught on tape, or compromising his identity for that matter.

The Hummer’s electrical-diesel hybrid engine continued to purr as he drove toward the city lights that seemed to beckon to him, although now it felt a bit less welcoming. Soon however, the automated voice of EVE broke the silence in the cab.

“Hey big guy, how’s it hanging?” Tory came through the speaker, sounding more or less like her usual irreverant self, though the fatigue came through in her voice as well. She’d been clocking in the hours, just like everyone else.

“Well, I didn’t manage to lose it back there, Tory. I’m guessin’ you heard what happened.”

“Yeah. Now the bloodsuckers are posing as cops, eh? Well, at least they don’t have to worry about scarfing down coffee and doughnuts when there’s those yummy big red corpuscles.”

John, in spite of himself couldn’t help but dryly chuckle for a moment. “You could have just said blood.”

“Hey, aren’t I the supergeek around here? I got a rep to uphold, y’know.” A snicker then came over the communicator. “Which is more than can be said about you, ‘Daniel Boone’.”

A low growl emanated from John’s throat. “Next time I’m the one pickin’ the aliases, you hear me? I think yours will be ‘Missy Cherry’.”

“Cute, cowboy, though don’t be surprised if you find your room toilet-papered when you get back,” Tory warned. A winking flash of red and blue lights caught John’s attention up ahead. Soon a cop cruiser went by, followed closely by another one, screaming their sirens as they careened past him and into the night. The captain kept his speed at a steady fifty-five miles per hour as he glanced in the rearview mirror to make sure they weren’t turning around for any reason.

“Nuthin’, darlin, just went by two smokies. Probably on their way to see that torched police cruiser I left a mile back or so.”

“Oo-kay,” the hacker sighed over the communicator, “remind me to get you one of those little black boxes with the weapon sounds like the death ray next time I go shopping.” There was a pause. “I assume that means you destroyed the cruiser’s police cam, right?”

“Yeah, one of the vamps tried to get on the radio, but I took her out before she had enough time to pass on any important details.” A scattering of various crumbling factories, rusting warehouses, outlying stores, gas stations, and a diner or two began to appear along the road as he cruised by. He could see some lights, but couldn’t help but notice there was little, if any signs of the usual activity in other towns at this hour. “By the way, those 40mm thermobaric grenades your lab boys designed have been workin’ wonders, we can definitely use more of those.” Another police cruiser, this time followed by the red screaming lights of a paramedic van and a fire truck flashed by his Hummer as he drove on.

“We’re pumping out another batch of those along with some other stuff, cowboy. Just make sure you don’t waste what you’ve got on hand.” There was another short pause on the comm link before the hacker continued. “Um, say John? There’s a reason why I called...a few things have come up.”

“Really? Here I was hopin’ that Cath was gonna bitch at me for overrreactin’.” He passed by a cemetary on his right, noting the number of marble tombstones that stood like quiet, lonely sentinels in the night. From the research he’d done on the place and the long briefing he’d been given, Sunnydale had a rather disproportionate number of cemetaries, thirteen to be exact, and rather large ones for that matter. Perhaps not unusual for a town built over a Hellmouth...

“Oh, not that, not really. She has a bit of a tendency to do that herself from time to time, y’know.” The Immortal could faintly hear her take a breath. “First, Reed managed to translate those weird Celtic letters we found on the side of Stephanie Miller’s tomb. It reads, get this...knight takes pawn.”

“Knight takes pawn? As in a chess move?” John could feel something in his gut beginning to tighten up in alarm. Something was off. He didn’t know how, but he’d felt it when he’d first ventured into that cemetary in Boston the previous night. This only confirmed it...whatever the hell it was, that is. “What the hell is that supposed to mean, exactly? I don’t suppose it has anything do with the widow Miller’s fondness for chess, assuming she had one.”

“No, I don’t think so.” Tory muttered. “Alana and Sadie, and a few ‘friends’ have been checking up on some of their contacts around their area. They knew something was up with the Miller family right before that whole fiasco with the Dearg-Dul, but no one’s fessing up on how Stephanie Miller could have gotten her hands on such ancient magick to pull off that transformation, much less learn how to read and write a rare dialect of ancient Celtic.”

“Not good,” the Immortal muttered. More shops and now, homes in various states of both tidiness and disrepair appeared along the road. A few appeared to be quite grand, in styles ranging from the traditional Spanish architecture to the old Victorian-era homes more commonly found in New England. Again, there were lights visible, but little if any signs of outside activity. “Not goddamn good at all. In a chess game, Tory, the move where knight takes pawn can easily allude to a strategy where a player willingly sacrifices one of his lowest pieces, the pawn, so he can create an opening toward his opponent’s king or queen. That, or simply draw out one of his more valuable pieces, like the knight ...” His voice trailed off at that.

“In whichever case, leaves you vulnerable,” Tory finished his train of thought, a tone of worry creeping into her voice. “John...do you think this is tied to what’s going on with this business of the black monolith, or whatever the hell it is, somehow?”

John shook his head. “I wish I knew darlin’...I wish I knew.” Part of him was grateful for the additional weapons, ammunition and other equipment he had stowed away in his Hummer. He was getting a sinking feeling somewhere in his gut that he was going to need all that, and more. Right now having an extra hand or two along on this trip didn’t sound that bad, assuming he had one. “Tory, I’m gonna be straight with you...I got the feeling from last night that we were being watched somehow. I don’t know who, or from where, but I had that feeling, you know.” Another growl emanated from deep inside. This didn’t just stink to high heaven...it was now worse.

The hacker audibly sighed through the communicator. “What’s that old saying, John? It’s not paranoia...”

“If someone’s really out to get you...right.” He passed another cemetary on his left side, this one appearing more rundown and somewhat less-well kept. The large iron gates appeared to be hanging askew at an angle, like an old man in his twilight years leaning on a crutch. Out of the corner of his eyes as he drove past, he could swear he caught a glimpse of something moving between some tombstones...

Tory groaned. “Great, just great. Well, guess I won’t be listening to Rockwell’s ‘Somebody’s Watching Me’ anytime soon,” she quipped, before a brief pause. “Hey cowboy, look, maybe going it alone even on a recon mission isn’t the wisest thing right now. If you...I mean we, could talk to Cath, I could get down there on an emergency insertion, quick and covert with Marina and we could...”

“Tory...just focus on what you gotta do down there, alright?” The mercenary gritted his teeth for a moment, trying to keep his voice steady and calm. It bothered him when other people wanted to go out of their way for him. It wasn’t that he didn’t feel grateful, far from it...it just didn’t sit well with him, especially if it meant putting themselves at risk. Especially someone like Tory. “Help’s just a phone call away, right? Don’t be worry’n none about me.” He then focused his attention back on his surroundings. He drove through a green light and continued to observe the area. He’d now reached Sunnydale proper, and after a right turn came up on one of the rolling main streets of the town. Various shops and aging storefronts, a few movie theaters with one appearing to be in a state of disrepair, and other buildings and warehouses lined the street. As he drove on, he noticed only a few places, like one which appeared to be an open-air coffehouse with the overhead sign titled “Espresso Pump”, appeared to be open for business. Most other places were securely locked with iron gates and bars. People who walked up and down the sidewalk did so at a rapid pace, with more than one appearing to occasionally look over their shoulder with anxious expressions. As his black Hummer cruised down the road, he noticed that those who did walk outdoors also glanced at his vehicle warily as he drove past. These people are anxious about something...I can guess what that is.

The communicator remained silent for a moment, before Tory finally spoke in a more quiet voice with emotion gently laid over it, something he didn’t typically expect to hear from the snarky redhead. “John...no offense, but don’t pretend like I don’t have the right to care about what happens to you, okay? If something else is going on and if you or someone is at risk, I have a right to be concerned, dammit.” He could hear the hurt and anger in her voice, something that hit the old veteran in the gut once again.

“Forget it, cowboy,” Tory interjected quickly, before taking a moment and adding in a softer tone, “It’s okay. Just make sure you call us before you get into another situation where we have to come and save your Rough Rider ass.” Her normal sarcasm had returned, bringing a ghost of a smile to John’s handsome yet tired, stubbled face before she went on. “Hey, something else has come up too. And I hate to say it, but this one may affect your mission in Sunnydale...”

Oh, Jesus, he though, here it comes. “Alright darlin’...lay it to me.” An overhead stoplight loomed before him, with the yellow light turning to red and beckoning him to stop. The Immortal began to gently push the brake pedal...

“WHAT?” John felt the Hummer lurch to a stop a bit more roughly than he intended, the sudden momentum jarring him slightly.

“Fox Mulder and Dana Scully,” the agent went on, unfettered. In fact she almost sounded a little excited. “They’re with a special subdivision of the FBI’s Violent Crimes Division, called the ‘X-Files’. Basically, from what I’ve been able to determine about them, they’re the part of the department that investigates all the really weird, wacky stuff like we do...only difference being of course we tend to blow shit up, while they’re more confined to law enforcement solutions. Not a very big task force as it’s just the two of them, but they’ve been really busy the past several years. I mean, these guys investigate everything, just like us. Wacko serial killers, mythical beasts, occult crimes...even aliens!” The redhead definitely sounded excited now. “You gotta check out the files on these two guys, especially Fox Mulder. I mean, I admit the guy is kind of a studmuffin, but he’s investigated every—“

“Tory...I know about the X-Files,” John muttered in a resigned voice. Behind him, a truck blared its horn at him. Noticing that the light had turned green, the mercenary cursed before applying his foot to the gas and continued on. “I’ve run into them, once before.”

The Immortal shut his eyes momentarily, before opening them again and concentrating on the road and his visual recon of the surroundings. “New York City...1995.”

“New York, ’95?” The redhead paused, then whispered, “Wait a minute...that was during the time of the Chameleon murders, and you were...”

“Oh...shit.” The hacker gently cleared her throat. “I’m sorry, John, I didn’t know...”

“Don’t worry about it, Tory, nuthin’ to do with you.” The Immortal took a deep breath. “What I am worried about is why you brought them up.”

“We got a red flag raised by our informants in the FBI and the Army CID,” she said quietly. “Omega Force and their own intelligence apparatus has been helping us keep tabs on them in case one of their investigations crossed paths with ours, or might compromise our security in any way. Um, remember that one file along with the tape we recovered about the big blue demon guy, or Judge, or whatever the hell it was that freaked the bejesus out of Gabby and Sonja, that apparently showed up at the Sunnydale shopping mall?”

“Yeah, I saw it. Gabby and Sonja said they slew that thing a millenia ago and hacked it into several pieces, at least before some fucking idiot glued it back together. It mentioned an M-47 Dragon ATGM that was stolen from the Army near Sunnydale. That most likely would have done the job; the question is who did it?” The old veteran sighed. “And I can see where this is leadin’...”

“Yep. Agents Mulder and Scully are flying to Sunnydale to investigate the theft of the weapon.” John quietly cursed under his breath in a rather frank manner while Tory continued. “ Now, the lead CID investigator, an Agent Patrick Nellis, he’s one of Omega’s guys, has been trying to keep the case quiet, but with all the shit that’s been going on lately with issues of security concerning the Army’s various installations and weapon stockpiles, terrorism and the drug wars and just about every other freaking thing heating up...well, it’s not like the Army could really tell the FBI ‘no’, and these two agents stepped up to the plate. Oh, and that’s not all...ready?”

Another sigh emitted from the communicator. “Just take it easy, big guy. Okay, it seems we might have had a compromise in regards to that whole incident. It seems some wiseass somehow managed to make a copy of it and mail it off to none other than the Lone Gunmen. Now, from what we’ve been able to gather, those three guys that comprise the Gunmen, Richard ‘Ringo’ Langly, Melvin Frohike, and John Fitzgerald Byers, they seem to have a relationship with this Fox Mulder guy since he’s been spotted at their place several times. Basically, what all this means is, besides the fact that Cath and everyone else is screaming at me even more now to find what I can on these guys, it’s possible that these cretins gave this Mulder guy a copy of the tape.”

“Wonderful,” John muttered, as his hands invariably flexed and tightened on the steering wheel. His eyes squeezed shut momentarily and opened again, his eyes narrowed and focused, the way he usually became when he was on the hunt...or if something had truly pissed him off. “Mulder and Scully and the Lone Gunmen...Jesus fuckin’ Christ...”

“John? If you feel there’s too much risk, and Cath and Jason are concerned that maybe there is, we can have you pull out of there now and replace you with someone else. I mean, we can’t risk exposure...”

“NO,” he growled, keeping himself focuse on the task at hand and keeping himself in control. “I came out here to do a job, and I’m gonna do it.” The buildings alongside the road began to change to more slightly run-down edifices. He saw an old industrial-type building, made of heavy red brick off to the side of the road, from which flashing lights could be seen coming out of the upper arched windows. A large neon sign over a set of double doors proclaimed this placed to be “The Bronze”, around which clusters of teenage and young adult couples could be seen coming and going. “I’ve reached the place called the Bronze. This is where some of the reports of incidents have been originating out of, right?”

“Why not?” The Immortal furrowed his brow as he took a right turn and began cruising around the block to first get a general layout of the area. He would then dismount half a block away and do some more recon of the place on foot before entering. “Considering it’s probably packed full of horny teenagers, I wouldn’t mind smashing my Hummer through the front entrance.”

The redheaded hacker sighed. “Y’know John, we really need to talk about these anger-management issues of yours...”

Inside the Bronze, it was another night like before, where the atmosphere was pumped with andrenaline, testosterone and hormones as the overhead lights illuminated the dance floor where young couples danced and swayed to the pulsing beat of the music blaring through the stereo speakers. At the front of the club, two young and rather attractive women in their teens made their way through the double doors. One had fair skin complemented with wavy blonde hair that came down to her shoulders, framing a pair of deep blue eyes that seemed to have an uncanny glitter to them along with a set of poutish red lips. She was dressed in a navy blue top that snugly fit around her chest, along with a pair of black leather pants. Her companion was a stunning teen with olive-tinged skin, a beautiful face with sparkling green eyes, and glossy black tresses that fell down to her shapely behind, while her tall, incredibly curvaceous figure was dressed in a black silk top along with a matching miniskirt that showed off her gorgeous legs.

“Well, here we are,” Patricia Driscoll, or Patty as her friends knew her, announced brightly to her blonde friend, Amy Madison with a wry grin. “Another night at the Bronze! You ready to knock ‘em dead, Amy?”

Amy managed a smile for her friend. “Sure, Patty, they won’t even know what hit ‘em!” In spite of her bravado however, she inwardly cringed in regards to why she was really here tonight. Xander had approached her yesterday about the idea of having a “chat” with Buffy and her inner circle of friends, but none of them had really been on speaking terms since the whole fiasco with the love spell. It wasn’t enough that her own damn mother had take possession of her body then tried to kill her with a axe; Xander had added to her woes by blackmailing her into performing a love spell that had gone completely crazy. Oh well, that wasn’t surprising since they lived on a freaking Hellmouth of all things. Xander, guess what, now I’ve got dirt on YOU, she thought venomously. However, she couldn’t help but wonder if this fiasco was karmic payback for using her powers to fake a paper in class. Hell of a way for it to come back and bite me in the ass, she mused. That wasn’t the most crucial thing on her mind though....what mattered most was how she was going to explain the whole thing to Patty who seemed blissfully unaware of just what nasty, evil things were really out there.

That, and the other little fact that Buffy was the Chosen One to battle the things that go bump in the night and that she, herself, was a witch.

“Say, Patty,” Amy continued, taking a moment to gaze at the faces in the club, “You don’t really need to hang with me, you know. I mean, it’s nice you came along, but I don’t want to hold you back from anything else you’d rather be doing. You’re supposed to be meeting Sergio here tonight, right?”

The raven-haired beauty casually shrugged. “Sure, I guess so.” She then wrapped an arm around her friend in a show of support. “But friends come first, y’know. I mean, what’s up with this ‘talk’ you’re supposed to be having with Buffy, Xander and their friends tonight? You seem kind of nervous about it.”

Amy managed another shaky smile and returned her friend’s show of support. “It’s no big deal, Patty. Me and Xander and the other guys...uh, just have some things to discuss, you know. Nothing big.” Hoping to change the subject, Amy quickly added with a grin. “But enough about me! So, looks like the new guy in school’s got a date with you tonight, eh?”

Patty’s gorgeous face broke into a thousand-watt grin of her own that was illuminated by the flashing lights of the club. “Well, yeah, y’know, he’s got a thing, and I’ve got a thing. Not to mention he is rather cute.”

The blonde witch nodded absently, her mind momentarily wandering toward the image of the darkly-handsome boy from New York who’d recently transferred to Sunnydale. “Yeah, I’d do him,” she muttered, her voice barely audible above the loud din of the club before her uncanny blue eyes opened wide in horror. “Ohmigod...I didn’t say that out loud, did I?!” The wide-eyed gaze from her friend told her she had.

Fortunately for the blonde, Patty’s shocked expression eventually changed into a knowing, mischievous one. “Yeah, you did, but guess what, Amy? I’d do him, too.”

The dark Irish girl’s face wicked smile changed again into an equally wicked grin. “Hey, aren’t I always?”

Patty’s face turned instantly red, while her friend struggled to hold in her laughter. “AMY! We were both fourteen, remember?!” She huffed. “And I didn’t flash my boobs, I had a...a wardrobe malfunction, that’s all.”

The blonde witch snorted. “Right, which happened to last several minutes. And you seemed to be enjoying the show as much as Ricky did.”

Patty rolled her sparkling green eyes toward the club’s ceiling as the dancing and thundering music continued. “Oh gimme a break, doesn’t matter what age boys are, they’re always horny.” She recast her eyes on the crowd of teenagers and young adults in the club, only to grimace as several male jocks who appeared to be packed full of testosterone walked toward them. “Oh, ugh, speaking of horny guys.”

The raven-haired beauty and the lovely blonde witch strapped on a pair of frosty glares as Percy West, followed by Mitch, Tor, and Kyle approached them.

“Well, well, well, Hel-loooo ladies” Percy drawled in a tone that spoke of testosterone, beefy muscles and not much else, with a predatory smile on his face that matched the one on Mitch’s, “I’d say you two are in luck.” Behind them, Tor and Kyle snickered and exchanged a fist jab with each other.

“Oh, really?” Patty inquired cooly with a raised, well-manicured eyebrow and her arms crossed. “Any reason why we should feel so lucky tonight?”

“Because,” Mitch replied with a cocky smirk, “There’s no sense in having two lovely ladies in this club without male companionship, is there? C’mon with us...we’ll have a great time.”

“Really?” Amy answered in a mockingly breathless voice. “You mean, us girls, out on the dance floor...with you two?”

“And then, oh,” Patty continued, pretending to nearly faint with desire, “Ohmigod...maybe you’d take the two of us out back someplace, and we might...just...”

“Yeah,” Amy finished, smiling widely before her expression returned to its prior frosty expression, “Except, no, Percy.”

“Oh, give us a break, Mitch!” Patty snapped. “Everyone knows you go around trying to sleep with every girl in the county! And Percy, ditto for you! I guess you were both hoping to add another couple notches to your bedposts this evening, am I right? Well, sorry, boys...but we’re already spoken for.”

The four boy’s expressions had soured immensely and they glared at the two girls. “Oh yeah?” Percy hissed. “And with whom might that be, girlie?”

Amy kept her gaze straight and level with the jocks, though Patty could swear that out of the corner of her eye, the blonde’s eyes seemed to almost change color in that typically weird fashion that managed to creep her out at times. “Well, I just happen to have a date with a whole group of...friends, right over there.” She pointed to the far side of the club, where Xander, Cordelia, Buffy, Willow, and Oz were seated at a table.

“Them??” Percy asked aloud with a disbelieving gaze, before guffawing with laughter as the other three boys joined in. “You’ve got a date with those rejects?! Spare yourself the misery and just go home, Amy! If you wanna avoid becoming another part of yesterday’s dogshit, then you’ll take my advice, avoid them, and maybe spend the night with me instead.” The jock pointed his thumb at his chest for emphasis. “Trust me.”

Amy continued to glare at the jock, her eyes seeming to capture and reflect a multitude of colors and lights in the club in an odd way that made Percy a little nervous in spite of his macho act. “Not if you were the last pig on Earth, Percy.”

Mitch tried to ignore the uneasy expression on Percy’s face and focused on Patty. “So where’s your date, Patty? Looks like you’ve been left high and dry to me.”

“Actually,” a new voice drawled in a Puerto-Rican Bronx accent, “he’s a little to your left, pendejo.”

Everyone turned to see a darkly handsome young man dressed in street clothes saunter up next to Patty. Sergio Dominguez offered a smile to the two girls that, admittedly, made them both feel hot inside. “Hola senoritas, como estas? Hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

Patty offered Sergio a smile of her own that nearly stole the young man’s breath away, before surrepitiously wrapping her arm around his waist in a manner that quietly caused his heart to race. “Not at all, Sergio, you’re just in time.” She then flashed another icy smile at Mitch, who glared at the two. “As you can see, looks like I’m spoken for, Mitch, so why don’t you and your pals run along?”

Mitch sneered. “You gotta be kidding me...him?” He fixed his glare on Sergio, who didn’t even flinch in return as he cooly regarded the jock. “Why don’t you just run your little piddly ass along, motherfucker?”

Sergio’s eyes narrowed momentarily as he gently let go of Patty’s arm around him, before taking a step toward the group of musclebound boys. “You know, Mitch, maybe you’re just trying to rebound after screwing up with Cordelia, who incidentally, probably did something smart and ditched your ass before you tried to add her notch to your post, but that’s not all I heard...”

The New York native pretended to shrug as he made his point. “I also heard that in spite of all those steroid-enhanced muscles, maybe the reason that is, is because in spite of the fact that you probably do have balls, you’re dickless wonders!”

As the Hispanic boy grinned devilishly, Mitch angrily snapped. “You little cock-sucking weasel MOTHERFUCKER!!” He nearly swang a fist before being stopped by Tor who grabbed him, while Kyle restrained Percy.

“Easy, Mitch, easy!” Tor said, before he sneered at Sergio. “The runt ain’t worth it. Best future he’s got to look forward to is working at that ratshit restaurant with his old man.”

“Yeah, Sergio,” Kyle chimed in with an arrogant smirk. “After we graduate, we’re all gonna be playing in the professional leagues and your ass is gonna be serving us lunch!”

“Oh, and Sergio,” Percy added, “Since you’re taking orders, why don’t you make mine to go, alright?” The four jocks guffawed at the young man who was clearly furious before his face broke into a smile fitting a jackal’s.

“I got a better one, Percy,” Sergio easily retorted, “since you four guys seem so close to each other, why don’t you all take your monkey asses outside and have a communal buttfuck?”

This time Percy tried to take a swipe before he was restrained by the other guys, while the two girls looked on, a bit wide-eyed at the confrontation. Gosh, Patty thought, Sergio’s definitely a bit reckless, but it’s sweet that he’s standing up for us like that, and kind of hot! The four jocks glared at Sergio momentarily, before Percy sneered, “Screw it, this runt ain’t worth it. Enjoy it while you can, Sergio...the day’s coming when we’re gonna own your spic ass, and you’re gonna be our little bitch. Come on, guys, let’s go find some other babes to impress.” With that, the jocks rumbled off, leaving Sergio alone with the two girls.

“Goddess, what a bunch of retards,” Amy muttered. “Definitely a major case of Toxic-Jock Syndrome.”

“Oh, uh, just a feminine version of God, you know, same thing,” Amy replied hurriedly, before blessing Sergio with a lovely smile of her own. “Thanks for standing up for us Sergio...that was sweet.”

The Puerto Rican tried not to visibly blush before he shrugged her compliment off. “Hey, no problem, those guys are fucking assholes anyway, all talk and nothing to show for it.” He then regarded Patty and frowned slightly. “Hope this didn’t ruin your evening or anything.”

Patty’s Irish green eyes sparkled in the light of the club, holding Sergio prisoner with her own enchanting gaze as she allowed a sensuous smile to play upon her luscious lips. She again wrapped her arm around his waist and pulled him closer. Suddenly, the young man felt his heart skip several beats as he smelled her perfume and saw the individual locks of glimmering raven hair that framed her gorgeous face. “Well, maybe not. It all depends on if you’re feeling charitable enough to buy me a ridiculously overpriced soda drink, what do you say?”

The dark Irish girl threw a wink at Amy, who couldn’t help but smile, before the three noticed another young man approaching them, dressed in ridiculously mismatched clothes that made him stand out from everyone else in the club.

The X-Man casually waved at her. “Hi, Amy. Well! At least you said ‘hi’ to me, and I consider that a vast improvement! Well, uh, considering most girls right now won’t even say ‘hi’ to me or acknowledge my existence.” He then quickly shot a glance at the dark-haired beauty that stood nearby and her new beau. “Hello Patty, and hello, Sergio, my man!” He quickly exchanged a high-five with his newest bud.

“Oh, not much,” Xander said nonchantly. “The usual, you know. Come here, mingle, drown our sorrows, earn new sorrows, and go home, that sort of thing.” The young man exchanged another look with Patty, who seemed to regard him warily. “Oh, Patty, hope that category I just ranted off of women who won’t acknowledge me doesn’t include you.”

“Maybe, Xander,” Patty noted with a cautious lilt to her voice, before she bored her eyes into Xander in a way that made him visibly gulp. “You know, you still haven’t come up with an explanation for why I suddenly found myself in Buffy’s basement along with twenty other chicks trying to grope you!”

“Wait a minute,” Sergio replied, his own eyes starting to narrow. “You were trying to grope Xander?”

Patty’s delectable mouth shot wide open along with her eyes then quickly shut. “Well, no, technically, I didn’t! I mean, I was in the back of the crowd...I think. I mean, I can’t remember. Ugh.” She shot a daggerlike glare at Xander that caused him to feel just a little uneasy. She quickly put on another smile and tugged her male acquisition toward the refreshment bar. “How about we just go get those drinks we talked about, okay? You gonna be okay, Amy?”

The blonde smiled at her friend. “Well, yeah, I guess so. Go on, Patty, enjoy yourself!”

“Okay, will do, but hey,” Patty narrowed her eyes. “Don’t let that group over at the table give you any crap, okay? If they do, I’ll come over and rock ‘em! And...uh, you know, sock ‘em!” Then she shot another glare at Xander. “And that means you too, X-Man!”

Xander quickly cleared his throat while Amy tried not to laugh. “Well, with that kind of attitude, I hope it doesn’t come to that!”

The raven-haired girl smiled once more. “Great! Well then, let’s go.” She turned around and headed for the bar with Sergio in tow.

“But wait,” Sergio could be heard as they walked away, “What exactly happened with that whole thing with you and Xander anyway? I heard...”

“Look, I don’t remember, it was me and two dozen other girls, okay?! Maybe it was a full moon or something...”

As the crowd of students and partygoers continued to dance and talk the night away, Xander turned to the blonde witch. “So,” he asked finally, “are you ready for this?”

Amy glared at him. “What? You mean ready to be dragged over hot coals, naked? Sure,” she replied sullenly.

Xander’s dirty little mind seemed to kick in instantly at the word “naked”, as his eyes became unfocused and dreamy for a moment. “Well, not sure about the whole hot coals thing, but naked works for me.”

“Okay, okay, sorry,” Xander muttered hastily. “Look, I know this is gonna be a bit awkward for everybody, but maybe...and I know I sound absolutely crazy for saying this, but maybe it’s best we just get everything out in the open now, and really Amy, with your mojo, you could really help us with the whole Hellmouth thing, really! So, whaddya say, are you ready?”

“Great!” Xander beamed. “Glad to hear it! Let’s go.” He grabbed Amy’s arm and dragged her in the direction of the Scooby gang.

The pair made its way across the dance floor and reached the table where Buffy, Cordelia, Willow, and Oz sat. Most of the occupants of the table exchanged glares with one another or appeared to be rather uncomfortable. The only one who didn’t seem uneasy was Oz.

“Amy, meet the gang!” Xander said all too cheerfully over the din of the club. “Gang, meet Amy!”

All Amy noticed was the round of baleful glares thrown her way. Oh yeah, she thought sarcastically, this night is just gonna be swell. However she blinked when she saw just how bright and shimmering Buffy’s locks had become, as they reflected the lights in the club. If the witch didn’t know better, the strands of the Slayer’s hair almost seemed like they were literally spun out of pure gold. Wow, Buffy’s hair is really shimmery blonde, almost Nordicly so, tonight. Did she find a new hairdressser to color her hair or something?

Outside the Bronze, John Roper shut off the Hummer and parked it half a block away from the club on a curb, after driving around several times to get a general feel of the area and the adjoining streets. Everything looked straightforward enough so far, but appearances could be deceiving. Nothing to do now, he mused, except take a walk around and see if there was anything suspicious in the area. After that, he’d go inside and see what else he might find.

John shook his head, though he knew she couldn’t see him. “No...haven’t sensed nuthin’ either.” He worked out a kink in his neck before he took a look up and down the street. Most of the people were situated around the club entrance, which was a good thing.

“Tory, I’m switching out communications from the Hummer to me. Standby.” He leaned over and switched off the communicator, then dug into a small compartment and fished out a small skin-colored audio receiever that he fitted into his ear. He then drew out two more components, an audio transmitter mic and a small wide-angle lens camera, either which was no bigger than his thumb. He carefully attached these to his vest and switched them on. He rolled back the sleeve of his fireproof stealth jacket, designed to additionally shield the wearer from motion sensors or thermal cameras, and flicked open a thin PDA-style console display that was installed into a section of the special forearm brace built into his armor, or vambraces that he wore. The forearm guards typically provided an extra level of protection for the agents if they had to engage in any type of melee attack, and also housed a miniature console for the computer system governing their special body armor, along with housing additional devices for each agent like a pair of hidden wrist daggers for John, a special taser gun and a grapnel launcher for Tory, and other nasty surprises. After punching in a three-digit code, the veteran spoke into his mike. “Avalon Base, this is Agent Roper, you hearing me, Tory?”

“Five by five,” Tory replied through the communicator. “Audio and video looking good. Oh, John, hold on a second...” A loud HONK from an airhorn suddenly emitted loudly through the earpiece, nearly causing him to jerk it out.

Tory laughed musically into his ear. “Sorry cowboy, but you know me...just can’t help myself.”

The Immortal grunted. “Right.” He paused in thought for a moment, as he regarded the M4A1 carbine with the underattached grenade launcher sitting in the passenger seat. A custom version built by Westmorto, the corporation jointly controlled by Cathubodia, Tory and Morgaine, it was built to far better standards than the versions currently in use by the U.S. Army, along with several additional features like a short-stroke gas piston that replaced the somewhat troublesome direct-gas impingement system that the M4/M16 rifles typically used, a titanium match-grade barrel, and lots of Picatinny rails for mounting additional accessories limited only to the imagination. Unfortunately, even though it was quite concealable underneath his duster, and the underattached grenade launcher always handy, he didn’t think it’d be the right weapon to take into a club packed full of civillians. He reluctantly clipped the rifle back onto the rack underneath the cab roof, next to a Remington 870 MCS 12-gauge shotgun, a highly configurable weapon that could be changed from a full-length shotgun to a “sawed-off” weapon with a mere switch of barrels and tubes. He’d probably leave that in the Hummer as well...firing off a spray of silver buckshot pellets that could potentially end up hitting civillians wasn’t a good idea either.

His eyes drifted to the schwiezersabel sword with it’s beautiful rune-inscribed blade still fitted in the hidden scabbard by the driver’s seat, and pulled it out. The blade caught the moonlight momentarily, glinting off the surface of it’s polished Damascus-steel edge before he slid it into the special scabbard sewn into his coat with a distinct hiss. He pulled out his Springfield Armory M1911A1 pistol and inspected the slide momentarily by habit, before ejecting the nearly spent magazine from the grip and easily inserted a new one, before taking out a suppressor from the glove compartment and carefully screwing it onto the barrel that jutted out just a half inch from the slide. It wouldn’t mask the sound of a gunshot completely like they usually did in Hollywood movies, and the suppressor meant it would take a fraction of a second longer to draw, but it would sound much more like a nailgun if he had to draw and fire it, as opposed to an unsuppressed pistol.

Never bring a knife to a gunfight, bring a gun. Preferably, bring two guns, one of them a long gun, John mused silently. He finally settled on the H&K SMGII submachine gun that was hidden in a large holster down near where his leg would have been in the driver’s seat. When the Pentagon and Special Forces had been looking for something that might be better than the MP5K, Heckler and Koch had come up with this weapon, a derivative that had a bunch of bells and whistles added, among them that it was a bit quieter when a suppressor was attached. John took out another suppressor and threaded it onto the barrel of the weapon as well, before taking his jacket off momentarily to slide the special harness rig attached to the weapon onto his shoulder, allowing him to operate with his arms free while the submachine gun stayed at his side, ready to draw. After throwing his jacket back on, he grabbed several thirty-round magazines stacked with 9mm rounds similiar in design to the “Silver Talon” .45 caliber bullets his pistol was chambered with, and stuffed them into a pouch on his belt. He already wore a collapsible tactical baton on his belt as well, equipped with a built-in taser that would pump out 100,000 volts. He also had a GLOCK 26 in 9mm caliber in his left boot, a combat dagger in his right boot, and a large Bowie knife strapped to his back underneath the jacket. Two oak stakes in his jacket pockets nearly completed the arsenal. Now there was just a few other things to grab...

John shut the door of his Hummer and walked around, as he continued to scan the area for any signs of potential danger. Seeing none, and gratefully still noticing that no civillians had approached his position, he carefully opened one of the doors in the back of he Hummer’s cab, and looked inside.

The same type of elevating remote-control weapon station that was found on the team’s SUV’s was present on the Hummer, consisting of the M2HB .50 caliber Ma Deuce machine gun that could destroy a standard tracked APC along with a cluster of 40mm high-velocity grenade launchers that could rain devastation over an entire enemy platoon. Ringed around the interior were all sorts of compartments and racks filled with additional weapons and gear: Several M72-A5 and A6 LAW rocket launchers in disposable tubes, a KAC SR-25K/SD “Widowmaker” carbine chambered in subsonic .338 Whisper ammunition with a suppressor built around the entire barrel for use in stealth operations, an M249 SAW machine gun with some additional tweaks and improvements, and a special fiber-composite suitcase that contained a special sound-suppressed, broken-down AI AW sniper rifle that could be fully assembled and fired within minutes. Additional electronic surveillance gear, along with climbing and rappelling equipment, emergency medical supplies, three day’s worth of MRE rations, a gas mask, thermal and night vision goggles, several thousand rounds of ammunition and magazines, C4 demolition charges, SLAM (Selectable Lightweight Attack Munition) mines, grenades of various types, boxes with potions and special talismans and other miscellaneous gear completed the arsenal. His own luggage, of course, was in the back seat along with a portable secure laptop computer with a satellite uplink that could connect him directly to Specter Island or anywhere else. The Immortal then retrieved several M84 flash-bang grenades, along with several German-made DM-51 concussion grenades with removable fragmentation jackets impregnated with silver fragments, and placed them around his vest and belt.

“No such thing, darlin’,” John replied casually. He then slammed the Hummer door shut and locked it. “They’re still just tools in the end though, like everything else, or tools of ill omen as Sun Tzu liked to call ‘em. I’m takin’ the ‘911 phone’ along, just in case.”

“Good idea,” Tory piped up. “Just remember, cell phones might be bad for your health. I’ve actually heard that they might cause cancer now, would you believe that?”

“Don’t surprise me none,” the Immortal muttered. “Damn near everyone is carrying one of those ‘things’ nowadays.”

John’s head jerked around instantly at the sound, before looking up to see a large black crow perched on a nearby lamppost, it’s black, unblinking eyes steadily regarding the man from it’s perch. The light from the moon and the yellow phosphorous lamp combined shone off of it’s black feather wings. It continued to sit there as it silently watched the man from it’s sentinel perch.

Soon, another crow appeared, flapping it’s wings before setting down on the lamppost and joining it’s comrade, it’s own eyes steadily regarding the Immortal as well. Soon, enough, a third appeared as well as it soared down to alight on a nearby building ledge, its eyes also regarding the man.

John was more than familiar with crows. Since the first time in the aftermath of an Indian raid in the Old West, where he’d come across a pioneer family that had been slaughtered with crows circling overhead, to the aftermath of the Battle of Gettysburg, when he’d awoken after his transformation, only to find a crow attempting to peck at his corpse, to the sites of other innumerable scenes of carnage beyond, he’d always seen them. Like sentinels, the crows had always been silently hovering, sending out their distinct calls to their other kin to gather to feast upon the fields of carnage. He remembered his mother from long ago, along with his father, who had told of the tales of Odin, the great One-Eyed God of the Norsemen, who traveled with the two ravens Hugin and Munin perched on his shoulders. She’d also told him stories about Morrigan, the Celtic Goddess of War, Prophecy and Death, who often circled the battlefields in the form of a crow. He’d eventually even been told by more than one Indian in the Pacific Northwest of Raven, a spirit who was said to have brought light to darkness.

But in the end, the unspoken meaning was clear. Long ago, an old shaman from the days when people still came to the wise old ones of the tribe for divination and wisdom whispered the meaning of the appearance of crows in his ear: There will be death tonight.

“John, what is it?” Tory’s voice shook him from his reverie and caused him to blink several times before he quietly cursed himself. No time for lollygagging! “Anything wrong?”

“Nope, darlin’,” John replied quietly. “Not yet, anyway.” With that, the Immortal secured the Hummer before he strode down the sidewalk toward the old industrial building that was now the Bronze. As he walked, he could feel the eyes of the crows boring into him, while his ears picked up the sound of more of them, their wings beating in the night.

He walked out, back and around the building, observing where it opened out onto the street. The building sat between two other structures that appeared more dilapidated in nature with smashed windows and rusted ironwork, with wide alleyways between each. He visibly checked each alleyway, scanning for entrances, exits, signs of danger, anyone lurking about, and found nothing. Another back alley was behind the building, though that too appeared to hold nothing other than trash bins and skittering mice. As he walked, he constantly looked around, occasionally changing his stride and walking in reverse to keep a full three-hundred and sixty-degree view of everything around him. A faint breeze blew through the streets and alleyways, picking up loose pieces of discarded newspapers and trash. But in the end, other than the few young couples that entered and exited the place, there was little else around of interest. There was nothing left to do except go inside and have a look around.

He approached the front entrance and noticed the bouncer who sat there on a chair with a walkie-talkie. He was a tall, burly fellow with a rather bored expression on his face who stood up and affixed John with a stern glare when he approached. Then he raised his hand and announced, “Sorry buddy, but this ain’t a watering hole. Beat it.”

“No, of course it isn’t,” John replied calmly. “It’s a ‘Bronze’. So why don’t you let me pass?”

“I ain’t letting you pass,” the bouncer sneered as he got within an inch of John’s face. “Because we have a problem. See, this club caters to the young, the vibrant, the beautiful people of Sunnydale,” He gestured with his thumb at a few nearby young couples who smirked in a cocky manner at the Immortal, “While you, my friend have got ‘yesterday’s news’ written all over you.” The bouncer then jabbed his finger into John’s chest. “So why don’t you fuck off and—“

The bouncer never finished his insult as John, with lightning reflexes grabbed and twisted around the bouncer’s arm, elicting a yelp of pain from the burly man. Then John drove his knee into the man’s crotch, dropping him like a shot.

“You’re right, we do have a problem,” John answered, before letting go of the bouncer’s arm and planting an elbow strike to the back of his head, knocking the other man out. He crossed over the unconscious bouncer, paying no mind to the other couples who now regarded him with frightened eyes. “And now we don’t.”

John never saw the distinctive, athletic yet curvaceous shapes of two women who silently watched him from across the street, hidden in the shadows, nor did he see a Ford minivan and two Jeep Cherokee’s pull into one of the alleyways next to the Bronze, a split-second after he’d entered the nightclub.

Angelus sauntered out of the minivan and drew an unnecessary breath of the night air into his undead lungs. “Ahh...I smell something fresh. Something that smells almost like, dinner. This promises to be a very fun evening.” As several other vampires, all in “game face” stepped out of the van, he gazed at one in particular, a girl with deceptively normal, yet lovely features with brown hair framing a pretty face. “Wouldn’t you agree, my new, sweet little friend?”

The girl smiled like a cat that had just cornered a mouse, and was now savoring the eventual kill. “Oh yes, master...definitely.”

“Master...I like the sound of that!”Angelus exclaimed with a smug expression on his wickedly handsome face. He turned to address the assembled vampires that had accompanied him tonight and drawled, “You know, I think from now on, that’s going to be our new rule, folks...I’d appreciate it immensely if you all refer to me as ‘Master’ now.” After a small round of groans, Angel quickly held up a wagging finger. “Ah, ah, ah, no bitching or complaining now. If you must know I think the title will hold a special meaning to my former squeeze. Besides...you don’t want to make me so mad that I might rip off your heads now, do you?” The vampires rapidly quieted after that.

“Angelus, quit your tongue-wagging and get your minions to their positions,” Erekan snapped as he walked toward him from the two other SUV’s, closely followed by Ivana and a dozen Tarakan assassins, men and women dressed in long coats armed with suppressor-equipped submachine guns and assault rifles. “We will have plenty of time later to listen to your monologues.”

One of the vampires behind Angelus raised his nose and sniffed momentarily, before his game face split into a toothy grin. “Hey, you smell that, boys?” He leered at the group of humans before them. “I smell it. Smells like...supper.” He took a step torward the unflinching group, particularly Erekan and Ivana who regarded him with bored expressions on their faces, before Angelus shot out a hand and grabbed him by the throat.

“What did I tell you?” Angelus growled in an annoyed voice to his henchman, his grip tightening around his neck. “No snacks before the main course. Remember, we’ve got a virtual buffet waiting inside, plenty of eats for everyone!” He then leaned closer and whispered into his ear. “And if you ever step out of line again and try to play boss...well, let’s just say you’d really hate to have your entrails staining up my nice leather shoes, got it?”

The vampire regarded Angelus with wide, frightened yellow eyes. “Y-yes sir.”

Angelus smiled and clapped the other vampire on the back. “Great! Glad to hear it!” He casually released him, then turned to regard Erekan with a slight frown. “Now, Erekan, you aren’t turning this little excursion into just another business venture, are you? I know you enjoy your work, and I know your tasty little morsel there does, too,” he gestured with a leer toward Ivana, who returned it with a cobra-like smile of her own. “So why don’t you loosen up and enjoy it! “

Erekan flashed a predatory smile of his own. “Oh, I and my associates enjoy our work immensely, Angelus.” His smile then turned to a frown. “In fact, I would dare say, Ivana and I have a bit more experience combined in these particular matters than you.”

The vampire took a step forward, regarding his newest “associates” with a bemused expression. “Care to place a wager on that?” He allowed the menace laced with that question to sink in for a moment before he narrowed his eyes at them. “You know, to be truthfully honest, which is a rarity, I know, but bear with me...I don’t know if I really buy into this whole ‘immortal’ spiel you gave me. I mean, it just sounds too good to be true! Torturing my former main squeeze for a while sounds tasty, but for an eternity?” Angelus clapped with glee. “I must have really done something right when I was under that gypsy curse...can’t imagine what it could’ve been, though,” he added with a deadly grin.

Indeed, he mused, it was almost too good to be true. Buffy...an Immortal, or whatever these two claimed to be? That certainly came at him right out of left field! Then again, he sensed these two so-called Immortals definitely were far older than they looked. If both they and she were truly immortal, the demon with the angelic face tingled with anticipation. Oh, the fun he would have with her in the next century! First, he’d chain her up and keep her as his pet. Then he’d hunt down all of the descendants of the gypsy tribe that had cursed him and kill them all in the most gruesome ways imaginable, and brother, he had a lot of imagination! In any case, the mere possibility of being souless, chaining Buffy up forever, and feasting on her like an endless cornucopia between defiling her and torturing her nearly caused the vampire to swoon. It would be the perfect vengeance against the putrid soul of his human self that had chained the demon down for nearly a century.

“Remember our deal, Angelus,” Erekan cautioned, bringing Angelus’s musings crashing down to earth with a thud, “You may torture her as much as you wish; however, in the end...we will be the ones who shall take her head.”

Angelus sighed once more as he folded his arms in a show of disappointment. “Sure, be the spoilsport, Erekan. But hey! I’m an accomodating fellow! Whatever cranks your dial, as they say nowadays.” He graced them with a friendly smile while he scoffed at them in his mind. Idiots! he thought. Of course, he had no intention of following through with their plan to take dear, sweet Buffy away from him. She belonged to him and only him. She had to suffer for making his souled self stake his sire, though the stupid trollop got what she deserved after leaving him behind to fend for himself against Holtz’s vampire hunters. He had to keep Buffy alive to watch as he gutted that balance demon, Whistler wasn’t it, for forcing his simpering self to go against his nature and fall in love with a Vampire Slayer! No, he simply had to bide his time and look for the right opportunity to rid himself of these assassins who’d spoil all the fun he had planned for the tiny blonde.

Shaking off his reverie, he furrowed his brow at the heavily armed men and women behind the two Immortals. “But what’s the deal with all the extra muscle and the artillery? I thought you guys were more of the subtle variety. Or are you hoping to overcompensate for something, perhaps?” Several of the vampires behind Angelus chuckled at this, before a glare from their master silenced them immediately.

“Hardly, vampire,” Ivana purred once again in that sensuous, though dangerous tone that her Immortal mate loved so dearly much. “However, apparently there have been a few...changes to our plans.” A sudden ringtone from her jacket sounded, prompting the Ukrainian woman to pull out a cellphone and answer it. “Yes?” She paused for a moment, before handing it to her lover. “He wishes to speak with you,” she said quietly, placing emphasis on the pronoun.

Erekan nodded, then quietly glared at Angelus as he took the phone. “Give us a moment,” he said before he walked off into a corner with Ivana in tow. “Yes?”

“Erekan,” the voice spoke over the phone, in a low tone laced with authority and cruelty. “Is everything in order?”

“Yes, my lord. Although...I feel we have far more men than is necessary for this task. We are merely eliminating one Slayer, albeit an Immortal one and her friends, correct?”

‘Yes, but as I stated before, Erekan, there have been some recent changes to our plans. We have consulted our employer, if you will in this matter...he feels that this Slayer may indeed be the one spoken of in the prophecy.”

“What prophecy—“ Erekan began, before his eyes opened wide with fright. “Wait a minute, you mean...”

“Perhaps,” the voice continued, purring through the phone. “And then again, perhaps not. It is too early to tell. But considering that she is the Slayer, and Immortal as you say, this may indeed not be a mere coincidence. There is also another matter, Erekan...you may have unexpected guests tonight.”

“We are not yet certain. We do not even know if they will show themselves but there is a strong possibility regardless. Be certain your men are well situated and armed and concentrate first on the Slayer. Her inner circle of friends must die as well, but the Slayer is still our primary target. And Erekan...notify me immediately if anyone or anything unexpected should turn up or occur.”

Erekan nodded with finality. “It shall be done, my lord.” With that, the line was terminated.

Inside the Bronze, the conversation, as it was, between the members of the Scooby Gang and Amy had not gotten off to a promising start.

In fact, hardly anything was said for several moments. Rather, there were a round of baleful glares between everyone who sat at the table. Amy glared at Xander, Cordelia glared at Willow, Willow glared at Cordelia, and both Willow and Cordelia glared at Amy. Buffy had chosen to go to the refreshment bar to grab a big plate of, in her words, “veggies and cheeeeese.” The only one not glaring at anyone was Oz. He seemed to be attempting to keep a neutral zone around him, while Xander was doing his best not to cring whenever the girls would take turns to glare at him.

The X-Man decided at that moment that someone had to break the ice. And who better to invite the potential wrath of all these ladies down on his own head than a glutton for punishment like me, Xander thought somewhat dejectedly. “Well!”, he announced brightly. “Another night here at the Bronze, and hopefully a fun one at that! So, what’s new with everybody?”

Although the club’s decibel level was maxed out due to the music blaring from the speakers and the hoots and hollers of partygoers, one could have heard a pin drop at the table.

“Hey, don’t everyone all talk at once!” Xander quipped. Silence still reigned before Xander gave up. “Oh, come on, guys! Let’s just get everything out on the table, okay? Let’s deal with this bad blood between us while we’re lucky enough not to have any vampires, demons, hyena-craving zoologists, mantis ladies, mummies, or werewolves to worry about—“ Xander nearly cringed when he saw the rather disturbed look from Oz on account of his flub. “Uh, present company excepted, of course, Oz,” he added hastily.

Oz quietly gave Xander a perturbed look. “Way to go and curse our evening, dude.”

“Actually, Xander,” Cordelia drawled in a very bitchy tone, her arms crossed as she glared at Amy. “You forgot one thing on your list...witches. Like, say, the little blonde skank who just happens to be sitting across from me right now!”

“Really, Cordy?” Amy shot back, her eyes livid. Once again, her eyes seemed to shift colors momentarily in that odd way that creeped out the cheerleader inside, though she visibly struggled to maintain her bitchy resolve. “Gee, the way I see it, on account of what I’m hearing around Sunnydale High lately, the only skank that’s sitting at this table is—“

“PRETZELS!” Everyone turned to glare quizzically at Xander, who held up a stale pretzel at the table for everyone to see. “Damn skanky little pretzels!” he noted with a pointed finger, desperate to defuse the potential wrath of an Atomic Cordelia who looked ready to stand up, go thermonuclear and plant a fist in Amy’s face. That, on top of his concern at the evil stare Amy was shooting at him now, made his knees quiver. “If they were gonna give us free munchies here, why not something like burritos, right, Amy?” The boy’s inane babble seemed to, at least momentarily defuse the tension.

“Actually, maybe after Amy’s gotten over her trauma with her mom,” Cordy added with a smug expression, “she can take her little broom and stick it where—“

Or perhaps not, he sighed inwardly. “Unfortunately, Cordy,” Xander interjected again, this time earning an evil stare from the cheerleader as he gestured with his hands wide toward her, “we’re not really doing auditions for Tactless Girl of the Year Award, but thanks all the same!”

“No, I know what Amy and Cordelia ought to audition for,” Willow muttered with her arms folded across her chest with an unwittingly adorable pout on her face. “They can try out for the, the, Biggest B-I-T-C—“

“Anyone want some cheese?” the Slayer chirped, fortunately interrupting her best friend’s diatribe.

Xander looked up to see Buffy holding a large platter loaded with slices of various cheeses and chopped vegetables. At that moment, he could have sworn she was literally an angel descended from heaven. “Buffy! Thank god! Your timing tonight is just as brilliant as your hair!”

Buffy fixed Xander with a puzzled look before she whipped a few strands of shimmering golden hair over her shoulder. “Thanks, but, why is everyone making a fuss over my hair? It’s always looked like this...hasn’t it?”

Willow shot an uncomfortable glance at her best friend due to the fact that the red head knew how vain Buffy could be and that her friend could drop a small car on top of you if the Slayer put her mind to it. “Um...er...sure, Buffy!”

With a shrug and seemingly unaware of the disturbed expressions on her companions’ faces of her denial concerning her new look, the Chosen One placed the platter down in the center of the table and snapped up a slice of Swiss cheese, before she plopped down on a chair and began to nibble on it. In a race to see who could claim the spread on the table first, the other girls nearly growled as they each grabbed a veggie from the plate, tossing death stares all around. Buffy, fortunately, didn’t appear to be in a completely foul mood, though she glared at Amy with her aquamarine eyes in her peculiar fashion that implied she was in the mood for a little Slaying.

Xander glanced at his new werewolf buddy. “Uh, feel free to help yourself, Oz.”

Oz looked over at his friend with a rather uncharacteristic note of apprehension in his eye. “You think it’s safe, dude?” After another moment’s hesitation, the werewolf and the X-Man each went for a stick of celery smothered in ranch dressing.

“Buffy, if you keep scarfing all that cheese, you might, you know, end up as a spokesperson for one of those Weight Watchers commercials,” Willow observed in a worried tone, that is, just before she remembered she was still angry at the other girls at the table and proceeded to shoot another round of heated glares at Amy and Cordelia.

Buffy groaned as she ate the last bit of the cheese slice in her hand. “Well, unfortunately, I can’t help myself. Ever since Amy temporarily turned me into Stuart Little, I can’t stop thinking about cheese! Every time I walk past the local deli, I wanna go in and pig out! Ugh,” she muttered as she drowned her sorrows with a piece of cauliflower instead, before she shot one of her patented “Bitchy Stares of Death” at Amy, who returned it in kind.

“Okay, you know what, Buffy?” Amy growled as she angrily chomped through her celery stick, “Yeah, I did change you into a rat, and I’m sorry, okay? But you’re back to your old self again, and face it, I wasn’t myself, none of us were!”

“Right, all thanks to that little spell you cast beforehand that had every girl acting like my lame excuse for a boyfriend was Hugh Hefner!” Cordelia interrupted, pointing with her carrot stick for emphasis. Then her brow momentarily furrowed before she glared at Xander. “Of course, I must admit that none of this would have happened if Mister Loser over here hadn’t asked you to cast that spell in the first place!” Her last words came out in a growl, before she snapped the carrot stick in her hand like a twig.

“You know what? She’s right!” Willow spoke up angrily, before her brow furrowed in confusion. “And I’m agreeing with what Cordy said? That’s SO very wrong...and scary.” A hesitant expression came over her pixie-like face before she speared Xander with her own death stare. “You know what I think? You probably had Amy cast that spell on all of us so you could get even with everyone! And you caused me to wind up in your bedroom in just a t-shirt and...and....uh, nevermind,” she quickly finished her sentence with a panicked expression when she noticed the alarmed look on Oz’s face.

“Willow was in your bedroom wearing nothing but a t-shirt?!” Oz added with a very un-Oz-like growl. Actually, it sounded more like a wolf’s growl...a very angry wolf’s growl.

Xander wanted to run and hide like a little girl but he was frozen to his seat and simply couldn’t will his body to move. Instead, he managed to laugh weakly as he noticed all the hostile stares now directed his way. Accepting his fate, he flopped his head down on the table and buried his face in his hands. “Haha...okay, I’m dead. Just stick a fork in me, I’m done! For the love of God, will someone just walk in that door right now over there and put me out of my freaking misery, pretty please?!”

Fortunately for the terrified boy, as a rough and tumble man walked through the aforementioned door, Buffy nearly doubled over as she’d experience the buzzing pain she’d felt the prior night flood her mind once more...