Agent Fox Mulder (i_want_2) wrote in multi_fiction, @ 2008-08-13 21:32:00 |
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Entry tags: | angel, au, buffy, het, kindred, magnificent 7, rated: adult, slash, wolf lake, world of darkness, x-over |
Fic: Bad Moon Out Tonight 1/1 M7 AU Xover
Bad Moon Out Tonight.
By: Lopaka Tanu
Disclaimer: I do not own Magnificent 7, Kindred: The Embraced, White Wolf and their Products, or any slaves.
Summary: What's a black brother from the slave age supposed to do in a modern world?
Warning: Death, Violence, Language, Sexual Situations.
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Autumn - 1798.
Raising her arms, N'ulu Bohek shook the raddle and mumbled the ancient chant. "Rise, Nathaniel Jackson, rise and take hold!" The next moment she was gasping for her breath.
Nathan's hands tightened around the Vondoon's neck, strangling the life from her. His blank eyes slowly focused on the situation before him in equal time as the concentration drained from N'ulu's. By the time he had realized who he was and what he was doing, she was already unconscious; however, that didn't stop him.
He constricted his hands tighter until he felt her pulse stop completely. To make sure she stayed dead, he broke her neck and severed the arteries with the small ceremonial dagger. That would teach the bitch to meddle with forces beyond her control.
For the first time since he had been brought to this god forsaken country, he got a good look around. Having been born in the French speaking country he hadn't understood a word these yankee devils had said. His lack of understanding made him a favor of the brutal bastards. It was this fact that had made him the perfect canidate for the Vondoon's magic, especially after being beatin to death last night.
Cracking his knuckles, Nathan smiled. And yea, tis time for repayment!
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Spring - 1801.
The war cry trilled into the night as Nathan lead the scouting party into attack of the White Settlement. They had been warned not to come passed the moutains by their British founders and Indian co-habitants. Now, they would learn the fate of those who defied the edict!
Carrying only a long sword, he lopped off the heads of three men on his first go round. Swinging his horse back for another strike, he was blasted from his horse by the bullets of three women holding muskettes. Of course, that only phased him for a minute, and by then, he had healed completely and was back on his feet. The women had already been subdued by his fellow braves as he stood.
Walking over to them, grinning, he raised the sword ready to repay their actions. Not three paces forward, he was hit by another musket ball, center chest. He died with the site of a proud mulatto woman's face burned in his mind. When he next awoke, the houses were burning and the women were all being dragged away by the braves.
However, the woman who had shot him twice before, was standing over him with yet another muskette. She shot him once more. Gritting her teeth, she awaited him to revive yet again. This time, she held a dagger to his throat. Rayne wasn't disappointed.
Nathan opened his eyes and glared at her. He wasn't stupid, he knew a knife wound was hardly fatal, especially in her capable hands. "All right, you win. I'll marry you."
"Do not ever forget this, husband."
"Next time I won't rescue you from the marauding white men!"
"I needed no rescue." Standing, she dusted the dirt from her pants. "You forget, I am my father's daughter, no man, white or other, can control me." Her eyes flashed golden. "Ever."
"How could I ever forget," he shouted at her as she walked away, "you remind me every time we meet!" Falling back against the ground, he growled in rage. Forever married to a werewolf bitch, how did he end up with such rotten luck?
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Autumn - 1849.
Nathan pulled the last of his daggers from yet another claim jumper. So far they had gathered more than ten thousand dollars worth of gold nuggets from this spring in less than two weeks. He, Rayne, Eagle Feather, Jeremiah, Susanna, and Black Owl had been fishing through the stream for the gold chunks to buy the tribe's land before the government sold it. With the change over from Spanish to white last year, their new home was about to be annexed.
Settlers had driven them from the now North-Western territories. The entire tribe moved west in a mass exhodus that reminded him of the old missionairies' tells. Four thousand strong, they had waited until the last of the children was weaned from the tit before leaving. To avoid pregnancy along the way, which would slow their movements, abstinance had been imposed. The moment they had arrived in the new lands fertile enough and uninhabited to support them, they had been sent north to the gold rivers.
That explained why Rayne was using his daggers instead of bullets to deter the claim jumpers. He knew if they didn't get back soon, she would simply over look the fact that there were other people present and ride him into a coma. It had happened before, it probably would happen again.
Wiping the last of the blood off on the dead man's body, he left the corpse for the crows. It was no skin off his back, the man was too stupid to understand that the color of his skin didn't entitle him to horse shit, much less a rare claim like this. Nathan was tired of having to scare away the buzzards, though. They spooked the horses when they gathered enmass, just as they were doing now.
Turning, he glared over his shoulder at his wife and their four kids. Well, adults now, the youngest was fourty-five. Wisely, the only one to glare back was Rayne. She wasn't taking too greatly to the fact she looked twice his age and would continue to age until she was completely silver haired in another fourty years. The fact she would live forever, barring accidents and murder, was no comfort for her vanity. It didn't matter to him, she was still the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Of course, he would never tell her, she would never let him live it down.
Looking at their children, he felt a coldness creep into his limbs. The tribe would soon be requiring them to fight for the very land they were intending to buy. He and the elders knew that White Man's greed would never allow them to keep any bargains, even among his own kin. So long as they kept enough of this yellow metal, the greed of man could be kept at bay. They planned on taking six times what they had already gathered back with them.
However, plans rarely ever worked out. The cocking of a gun was all the warning he had before the bullets pierced him. Yet again, however, that was all the warning his killers had before they would be torn to shreds. He died with a laugh.
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Waking, Nathan blinked the dust from his eyes. Silence greeted him as he sat up. Looking around, he noted night had fallen while he was recovering. They must have used a cannon to kill him this time. Alarm filled him at the thought. "Rayne!" He searched around looking for her and their children.
Only darkness and shadows were visible in the brilliant full moon light. A full moon? He had been out for a week, he realized.
The birds must have been eating on him for him to take so long to regenerate the damage. Why hadn't his wife and kids kept him cleaned away? Sitting up, he winced at the pain in his abdomen. He was still bleeding from a gash in his side. The wound was consistant with a knife blade.
Someone had been purposely keeping him dead!
Growling, he stood and reached for the nearest stick he could use for a weapon. Whoever was here was going to die slowly and painfully. The walk over the stones of the trail cut his feet, but he ignored them in favor of his revenge.
Movement off to his right had him spinning around and dropping into a fighting stance. The tree limbs shook under the shoes of the creature that landed on them. Looking up, Nathan had the destinct impression of what a rabbit might feel in the gaze of a hawk. He swallowed and backed away slowly from the pale creature, breaking the branches off the stick to form a stave.
"I would not do that, if I were you, my young friend." Alighting slowly to the ground, the copper haired man touched down then floated back up to land just in front of Nathan. "It has been quite some time since I last encoutered one such as you, however, that will not stop me from dismembering you all the same. You intrigue me and I wish to study you for a bit."
Nathan jumped back when the man's hand reached out to touch his face. "What the hell are you?"
"That matters very little, just know I could destroy you if I so chose. That you still remain is proof enough of my intentions." Moving faster this time, his hand locked around Nathan's face and tightened until painful. "Now hold still. This small bit of unpleasantness shall be over in a moment." Holding a crystal up, he focused through it into Nathan's eyes. "Ah, there we are!"
"What are we?"
"The source of your animation. Just as I have suspected, you are the product of Voodoo magic, of Samedi origins if I am not mistaken. Your priestess must be most displeased you have escaped her grasp." Letting Nathan go, he stepped back and with a slight hand, the crystal disappeared. "Tell me, would you happen to be Nathaniel Jackson?"
Standing proud, Nathan stuck out his chin. "I am."
"How delightful." The man bounced back to the rock and up into the tree in an almost dream like quality. "You cost Mother a great deal of time and fortunes when you destroyed that plantation. I suggest you take your family and leave, those brutish thugs she hired to jump your claim will return soon and I can only influence their minds for so long."
"What did they do?" Holding his side when it twinged, Nathan started for the man. "Did they do this to me?"
"No, my dear man, I am the one who has kept you in death's cold embrace for the past moon and a quarter. I must feed nightly and you presented quite the conundrom." Snickering, he wiped his lips in memory. "Aside from the fact your death sleep has provided me with the sustenance I needed to protect your family and the amusement I gained from your continued healing, I have also garnered my pound of flesh, so to speak. Your actions also cost me a great deal that day, Nathaniel. Remember, no matter how long, your consequences will one day come back and reap you of your just rewards."
The moon increased in intensity until the world was brilliantly lit, bright as day. Nathan raised a hand to block out the moon light and sputtered when he covered himself in dirt. He shot up from his place on the side of the hill, dirt partially covering his body. Instead of the moon, the sun was brilliantly coloring the landscape.
Shadows moved across his vision. He blinked to clear the sand from his eyes. The images slowly resolved themselves into the familiar forms of his family. Rayne was standing there, hands on hips in agitation.
"Where have you been?" She bent down to his side and reached out to his face. "Have you been out there since that damned day?"
"You mean since I took a cannon ball to the chest?" Nathan raised his hands to chest and felt for any scarring that might remain. Like always, there as none.
Rayne smiled at him sheepishly. "Well, I would assume so, yes." Standing up, she turned on her heel. "Come, we go. The bags are filled with the sun metal and our supplies run low."
"You mean you actually left me here for the past thirty-five days?" His anger grew as he stood, dirt sliding from his body and further into his shredded clothes.
Rayne continued on back down the trail to the stream. "It was not so much as left you there as forgot you existed." She picked up speed and ran the rest of the way, knowing her were nature gave her increased speed.
Nathan gave up on her as hopeless, that she addmitted to forgeting him was all the victory he would get from her. Any hope of an apology would be just a dream. Turning on his offspring, he glared at them. "Well?"
Jeremiah came up to him and patted him on the back. "Sorry, father, we truly did not remember. Then this morning, your memory returned. We have heard of such things. The moment mother realized, she sent us out hunting for you. 'The Children of Caine are out here', she said."
"What are they?" Nathan pulled out his shirt and shook the dust from it.
"Vampires. Blood drinkers who walk the nights with the abilities of the sky people. Very few can control the minds of Garou. Only the truly old and mighty. They, the Elders say, we must fear. There were three such who lived next to the great waters of the lakes. It is why that far north is forbidden to our people." Patting his father's shirt down, Jeremiah picked up his hunting pack. "We must be leaving while we are still able."
"Do you not care why you forgot about me, or that you are now allowed to remember me?" He accepted his pack from the younger man and placed it back over his shoulder. Twisting the pack around, he adjusted it to waist level.
"We figured she must have used you for feeding this time. It would make no difference to hunt her, we do not wish to confront our deaths, we are still very young." Nodding at his syblings, Jeremiah headed down the path first. "We have enough gold, it is time to move on."
"Yes, our work was very efficient." Black Owl, his sister, tied off her hair with a leather strip. "The spirits smiled on us these past weeks. It was almost as if the gold fell from the sky with the amount we found."
"It is most unusual, then again, this land is always unusual." Jeremiah slowed as he neared the end of the trail. His forepaws touched the ground and he was off running in wolf form. He was joined by three others, their tails high as they ran.
Nathan shook his head in disgust. Almost fifty years and they still felt the need to act as puppies. A sudden hunch had him scanning the horizon for something out of the ordinary. His eyes caught sight of that thing a moment later. A large leopard with familiar green eyes stared back at him from on top of the hill. He remembered them from his home, they had nothing on the fear this one sent down his spine. Picking up his pace, Nathan raced after his offspring back to their camp.
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Autumn - 1866.
"Why?" Rayne tried pulling Nathan back inside their adobe home, but he shrugged her off. "Am I so repulsive?"
"No, I am just tired. Our children have grown, the tribe has settled, the White Man's war is over. We are free to move about this world once more and I intend to take advantage of this." Moving down the street towards the horse barn, he shrugged off her hands again. "I said I would come back eventually. It is just time I sought my freedom, I earned it!"
"What life is there beyond our borders that you wish to live?" Stopping in middle of the barn door, she crossed her arms. "There is nothing out there for us, nothing!"
"My home is always with you. However, life does exist beyond a home, beyond the tribe." Leading the horse from his stall, Nathan glared at his wife. "Beyond you!"
"Now the truth is revealed. You have grown tired of me already. My father warned me of such men." Pulling at the last of her dark hair, she yanked it from her scalp and threw it at him. "You want only young woman, then take what is left of my youth!"
"That is repulsive, Rayne!" Tying the hair up in a knot, he stuck it in his breast pocket. "I'll keep this as a reminder of just what I left behind. When I get back, your disposition had better be sweeter than this, you unripened persimmon!"
"Bastard! I will never be sweet! I am like the river, there is no changing my flow! I am the wind, ever continuing. My mind is..."
"The glacier, ever slow! I know, I know, and on and on! Good bye, my beloved wife, I will see you when I see you!" Mounting the horse, Nathan drove it out the back wall of the barn and through the village, ignoring Rayne's cursing wanton destruction of her property.
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Spring - 1879.
"You darkies gotta learn your lessons. Ain't that right, boy?" Cyrus Cluster tightened his grip on the rope, yanking the knot closer to Nathan's skin. "Gonna make you swing, nigger!" Those were the last words Cyrus ever spoke. The small knife slipped from his throat.
Wiping his pocket knife on Cyrus' shoulder, Vin smiled at the dying man. "Howdy."
Nathan jerked his way free of the dead man's hands and pulled the rope from around his neck. He turned around to face his rescuer. To say the sight of what greeted him was a surprise was an understatement. "What in hell are you doing here?"
"Just thought I would stop by to say hello." Vin kicked the body of the man between them. "This piece of shit just got in my way."
One of the three other men around them cleared his throat.
"I suggest unless you wanna join this bastard son of a cur, you leave us alone and ride off now." Vin lifted his hands, a brand new pair of six shooters suddenly appearing.
Nathan took aim at the third man. He winked and pulled the hammer. "You boys sure ain't too bright, now, are ya?"
"Now, now, Nate, there ain't no reason to keep insulting them, they know they aren't smart men." Vin chuckled. Sometimes it was good to have friends. It was even better to have friends with guns.
Laughing, Nathan shook his head. The men seemed to be glancing at each other in order to get a feel of when to attack. "Don't look like they are gonna be paying you much mind, Vin."
"I guess it don't." Sighing, Vin pulled the triggers on his guns at the same time as Nathan. Three men dropped at his feet. "Well, no sense in letting them go to waste. Best look and see what they got." He bent down and started rifling through their clothes. "Damn, Nate, can't you pick a few that don't smell like the south end of a hog headen north to get all riled up?"
"I wasn't intending to. These bunch of honkey southerners thought to roll a 'nigger' for some fun." Nathan shouldered his gun, adjusting his duster and kicking up a clod at the dead men. "I suppose you ain't gonna catch that train to meet with Tanner, are you?"
"Nope. Thought it over and realized you were right. There's no point in it for me. Tanner may be my father, but he ain't my pa." The fifteen year-old glanced up at the former slave with a smile. "I'm still willin to learn if you are willing to teach, pa."
"Boy, you're more trouble than you are worth at the best of times. I don't know why I ever let that mother of yours talk me into taking care of you. If she had been anything but an Indian woman, you'd been on the streets years ago." There was a twinkle in his eyes as he spoke. Jerking his head towards the horses, Nathan started towards them. "Come on, I am sure we can sell these to the locals for a few blankets and a hot meal. Later, I know some orphans that could use some blankets and Nun who makes the best cherry cobler."
"Not Sister Sanchez, that old witch has a spoon with my name on it!" Vin tagged along sulking, dragging his heels in the dirt. "You know she had them specially carve that damned thing for me after she wore the last one out on me!"
"I know."
"And you still wanna go see her. Why did I save your miserable hide?"
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Spring - 1888.
Tears filled his eyes as he traced a finger down the letters of his son's name. He gathered the last of the ashes from the buriel urn before kicking it back in the hole. Turning around, he came face to face with the last creature he ever thought to see again in his life. "What do you want, windiego?"
Blue eyes flashed red in annoyance. "What are you doing here, child?"
"He was my son." Nathan raised the cross in defiance of the creature in front of him. "You will not stop me from carrying his ashes back to his people."
"His people are ashes, boy. He was the last." Flying up to land on a head stone, the man cocked his head to the side. "Do you even know what he was?"
"My son, that is all I care to know." Head up, Nathan walked towards the edge of the cemetary ignoring the creature. He refused to react to the creature's presence any more.
"It wasn't my fault," the man called. "I... He..."
Nathan kept walking.
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Autumn - 1901.
Nathan kept walking despite the taunts of the racist kids behind him. He was only a mile from the reservation, there would be people waiting there to see him. Until then, he had to ignore the punks. When they started tossing stones, it became too much for him to endure. Dropping his bags, he pulled the pair of old, but well loved six shooters on them.
"Oh lookie here, nigger has a couple toys." One boy pulled back his arm ready to slug another rock at Nathan. When the gun went off, he let out a shrill scream and clutched his now bleeding hand to him.
"I suggest you little bitches get your asses back to whatever rock you crawled out from under. I ain't gonna tell you again." He shot at their feet to get them moving. If that racist pig of a sheriff came out this way, he'd just give him a few pieces of hot lead too.
The boys ran off at top speed.
Nathan twirled them on his index fingers and reholstered them. Patting them, he sent a silent prayer to their former owner. "Still protecting my hide."
His steps increased the closer he got to the reservation. He had sent word on ahead through the tribe's one telegraph. They would be there on the border expecting him home soon. As the barbed wire and wooden post border came into view, Nathan stopped. There wasn't anyone waiting for him.
He walked across the border the next five miles into town. All along the way he kept expecting to see someone, anyone. The buildings were all run down, most of them rubble from time and earth quakes. At the old Elder's hall, he shoved open the large copper doors.
Nathan closed them just as quickly. The inside of the building was blackened, the bones of the people littering the floor. Judging from way the roof had caved in at several places, Nathan guessed the fire had been deliberately set. Ordinarily there wasn't enough burnible material for it to have gotten that hot, the Elder strictly forbade it.
Old graphitti lined many of the walls, most of it done in white chalk created when the stones had turned to powder from the heat. The words were poorly sketched, but their meaning perfectly clear to Nathan.
Checking the cylinders on the revolvers, he replaced the spent cartridges. As he slipped in the last bullet, the room around him lit up an etherial blue. Shapes surrounded him in the shadows, a slight wind picked up and the temperature dropped.
Nathan looked at them longingly, recognizing each of them as they presented themselves. The Wraiths of the dead demanded to be avenged. Summoning the strength of will, he forced them to silence until the hall was once again empty.
Grief would come later, he had some white men to kill.
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Early Spring - 1917.
Nathan checked the line on his riffle. The cross hairs were still a little off. Grumbling, he slid it back in the cockpit of his plane. They had been fighting the Kiezer's Kraught for almost three years and still nothing came of it. Almost everyone of their number had one horror story about being shot down in enemy territory only to get out by the skin of their teeth. Of course, they numbered only in the teens now when their group once consisted of twenty groups of twenty.
They said that since the American Dough Boys had joined the ranks along the trenches, the war was going good. Nathan just told him that he had been there since the war had unofficially started and would be here long after the Americans pulled out. The great war wasn't, it was hell on Earth.
Glancing over at the others of his fighter wing, they were in complete agreement. Tonight would be the last time they flew over the skies of France. They would turn their planes south, head towards Gebraulter, and fly over Morroco. He had always wanted to get back to his home land, if only to repay the priests who had sold him in the first place.
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Late Summer - 1955.
Paris was a cesspit. The city of lights he had enjoyed before the great war was long gone and these bitter toad suckers were all that remained. People selling themselves just like on every street corner of America, the city stank of polution, the stones crumbled from the hard rain, and the dispositions were about as pleasant as a bull elephant with a tooth ache. Selling his bi-plane, he jumped the first flight back to the states. They had to pry him from the cockpit of the four engine plane just to take off.
Nathan knew as the plane attainted cruising altitude he had finally come home.
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Winter - 1956.
Nathan woke up to a baby screaming. Sighing, he rolled out of bed and put on his slippers. "Hold on, Josh, I'm coming!" He sent a grumpy glare at his wife, Laurie, and walked out of the bedroom. The short journey across the house brought him to a nursery where a baby sat up in the crib, his eyes filled with tears, toothless mouth agape. "What is it, son? Don't you know daddy is trying to sleep, he has planes to fly tomorrow."
The boy lifted his arms and shrieked his displeasure. Waiting until he was in Nathan's arms, he let out another cry.
The black man held the boy back from him with wide eyes. "Damnedest set of lungs on you, Jeremiah had the same problem."
Josh giggled at his father, tugging on his braids.
"Let those go, boy. How many times I gotta tell you not to grab my hair? Ouch! Damn!"
"Damn!"
Nathan looked at his son with wide eyes. "Josiah Ruiz Sanchez, what did you just say?"
"He said the same thing to me this morning when I dropped his bottle. Seems your son has been learning how to speak from his filthy mouthed father." Laurie stood in the doorway, her arms crossed. Her blonde dyed hair hanging mussed about her pale white skin. Her days as a bomb shell not long past kept it that color.
Nathan glared at her, outraged. "Well don't look at me, I'm not the one who says those things... Oh, shit."
"Shit." Josiah clapped his hands together. "Shit. Shit. Shit!"
"Nathan." Laurie's voice was low and even.
"Now hold on a minute, Low, you know how impressionable Josh is, don't want to set any bad examples for him." He backed away from her, Josiah held close to his heart.
"Don't worry, Nathan dear, he can't see my foot up your..."
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Six Hours Later.
"So she says it and Josh starts saying it, and next thing I know I am at the sink with a bar of soap in my mouth right along side my wife and son. None of us particularly enjoyed the experience, but I don't think Josiah will be saying those words again." Nathan checked the last of his controls before setting the autopilot on.
"Well I warned you, Nate. You married my sister, you were asking for it." Carl Martin adjusted the mouth piece on his head set and sat back to take a deep breath. "Did the tyke say anything else?"
"Yeah, three more words including the F word. Now I know Laurie is the one that taught him. That kid is definitely going to grow up to be a two bit con, I just know it."
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Early Autumn - 1975.
Nathan stared at his son in shock. "You can't be serious. A priest? A Catholic priest?"
Josiah tried not to laugh at his father's bulging eyes. "No, father, a Methodist."
"Great, Diet Catholic!" Nathan turned to his wife, who was glaring at him. "Did you hear your son? He wants to become a priest. I knew it, from the day he was born and looked like you but for my hair, he was nothing but trouble. This is all your fault!"
Laurie stood up and slammed her drink on the counter. "Don't blame this on me, you are the one who named him after that damned Nun."
"Because giving him my slave name would only serve to tie him down," he shot back.
On her feet, Laurie grabbed his hand. "Oh, so I'm cheap enough to earn the name?"
"I told you not to take it! You were the one who insisted we keep it. What about 'remember your heritage'?" Grabbing his hair in frustraiton, Nathan tugged at the fro.
"Dad, Mom, calm down. This isn't the end of the world." Josiah held up both his hands and thanked the divine god that his sister was away at college freshmen year.
Laurie busted out into tears and fell back in to her chair. "My baby is becoming a priest!"
"You see what you did to your mother, you made her cry!" Nathan turned on his son, his eyes narrowing in anger. "Are you absolutely certain you want to be a priest? Can't you be, I dunno, gay or something?"
"It doesn't work that way, dad. I have always wanted to be a priest, just like you always wanted to be a pilot." Josiah watched his father turn away. "Oh, sorry, right, forgot about your age thing."
Nathan plopped down in his chair, stunned disbelief clearly written on his face. "My son is going to be a priest, what is this world coming to?"
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Winter - 1987.
Nathan set down his bag in the first pue. Walking along the near deserted church, he ignored the elderly couples who gave him strange looks. His long beaded locks swayed with each step, hammering against his tribal clothing. The rainbow colored woven hat held most of his hair from his back.
At the end of the long aisle, he stopped at the knieling priest and tapped the man on the shoulder. When the man looked up, Nathan held open his arms.
Josiah surged up into his father's arms, wrapping himself around the larger man. "Father!"
"I came as fast as I could. Your mother sends her love, you know she can't travel anymore. The doctors say she could go any day now. Your sister's death hit her hard, and if not for you, I wouldn't have left her." Pulling his son with him, Nathan sat them down on the pue. "Tell me what happened."
"They came out of no where, just like you said they would. They entered the church and set it ablaze. She tried to stand against them, father, but she wasn't strong enough. There were too many. I was beatin down and made to watch as they..." Josiah looked away, his voice cracking and tears running down his cheeks. "I am sorry, father, there was nothing I could do."
Nathan nodded. "I understand. What will you do now?"
"I will hunt them down and smite them. The lord's angel has come to me in my dreams, he has told me of his plans for me." Looking to his father, Josiah lifted his head. "I am to be his instruement, I am to guide his hand against his enemies. He whispers that Gehenna is upon the damned."
Closing his eyes, Nathan lowered his head. Biting back on suppressed emotions, he took a deep sniffling breath. "Are you sure?"
"Yes, father, I know my calling and I have faith."
"Then there is nothing more I can say except I wish you peace, Josh." Nathan stood up and walked away.
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Spring - 1995.
Nathan sliced the head from another vampire, his teeth bared, eyes blood shot. Two more fell under his blade before he stopped to rest. Glaring at the piles of ash scattered around him, Nathan raised the blades one last time. Clapping had him turning around, ready to lop the head off the intruder.
"Bravo, Mr. Jackson." Standing in the shadows, the figure kept her body hidden from direct sight.
"Who are you?" He twisted his body slowly to cool down from the fight.
"I am the one who's children you just executed." Moving into the light, she adjusted a seductive pose. "They were a waste of good blood."
"What do you want, leech?" Ignoring her body, he focused on her face. The strange facial ridges were new to him. Before tonight, any vampires he had fought had only fangs and claws. These had six fangs and no claws.
"Oh, black man, you have no idea." She ran a hand up her body attempting to distract his irritating gaze from her face. "I can show you such pleasures, you can't even imagine."
"I can show you such pain you can't even imagine. I have walked this Earth since the year 1770. I am immortal and invulnerable. Just what do you think you could possibly offer the likes of me?" Twisting his katana end over end, he spun it over his shoulder and caught it on the drop down.
"Well, how about you just come along with me and we see what strikes your fancy since obviously my charms aren't working?" Shifting back into her human body, Darla yawned. "Really, I haven't got all night, I have a date with the Master in a few hours and am just killing time."
"How about I chop off your head and piss on your ashes?"
Tossing her hair, she stalked away. "God, what a pain in the ass."
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Autumn - 1995.
"That's right, fifteen hundred dollars a week and I'm your muscle." Nathan slid the blade over his skin. Holding the healing palm up, he wiped away the blood to show his perfect skin. "I come fully prepared to do my job and I don't require health benefits."
Holland Manners glanced the man over and smiled. "I will have to get back to you on this. I am picking a new protege this week and it doesn't fit well with my image to require such a... talented individual such as yourself."
"Your loss, Mr. Manners. I don't need the money, just thought I would offer you my services before I accepted your enemies' proposal." Standing up, Nathan adjusted his suit. "See you on the battle field, Mr. Manners." He took three steps and paused when he heard the man clear his throat. "Yes?"
"Perhaps we could work something out. Invulnerable did you say?"
"No, but I can heal any damage, and I do mean any." His eyes made the other man shiver in cold pleasure.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Spring - 1996.
"I am sorry, Mr. Manners. Please forgive me." Lindsey McDonald dropped his water bottle again as the large black man towered over him and growled. "Excuse me, I will be leaving now!" He fled the room, scowling at Nathan.
Holland chuckled as his newest aquisition fled the room. "I do say you seem to be worth every penny of your salary. You are the first person to scare him enough into shutting up."
"I am glad you enjoy my services." Sitting down, he undid the only button on his suit jacket. "However, I am afraid I must decline any further work you might require of me."
"Oh?" Holland tilted his head. "Is there a problem with the pay?"
"There was never a problem. I am simply tired of threatening people into submission. When I offered my services, I thought killing people would be a regular part of the job, but so far I have only deflected you from lethal blows." Digging the imaginary dirt from his finger nails with a dagger, Nathan glowered at the old lawyer. "You, quite frankly, are boring me to death."
"I see." Picking up the phone, Holland pressed a speed dial number. "Eilleen, get me Mr. Lews, tell him I have what he is looking for. Thank you." Returning the handset to the cradle, he smiled at Nathan cheerily. "Mr. Lews is an associate of the Firm who runs a business right up your alley. I owe him a favor and your services have been quite exquisit. This way I kill two birds with one stone, you get your wish, and I get my daughter's soul back in time for tax season."
A knock at the door was followed by a large blue skinned man. Entering without waiting for reply, the man glared at Holland. "What do you want, snake?"
"Your mercinary has arrived."
Lews took one look at Nathan and smiled. "You think this man could..." he chocked and fell to the ground twitching. His eyes bulged and he fell still.
Holland sighed at his former body guard. "Well, that was just uncalled for."
"I don't work for demons." Nathan stood up and buttoned his coat. "You ever get a job that requires my skills, hook me up. Until then, forget you have my number. I'll find my own way."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Late Winter - 1998.
"Get him! Don't stop firing until you shoot the bastard!" Chris led the raid on the descraited church, hand gun drawn and firing. "Linth, Grayson, go around back, shoot anything that tries coming in or out without my approval."
The twin Rel dressed in white kevlar vests nodded and circled around building, one to each side.
Chris signaled two other members to follow him in while the remaining two stayed out front and waited for back up. Kicking open the doors, he went in firing, his team members laying down straffing from their machine guns. When his last round in the chamber was spent, he removed his dust goggles and squinted at the sight in front of him. "Damn it, we're too late!"
On the floor of the church laid the remains of half a dozen Trolosh demons dressed as nuns. Their limbs, having been hacked from their bodies, still twitched. The killer was on the floor riddled with bullets. He didn't remain that way for long.
Sitting up, the young black man wiped the bullets off as they were pushed from his skin when it healed. Cracking his neck, he glared at the blonde white man in front of him. "Who the hell are you?"
Chris slapped another clip in his gun and aimed it at the formerly dead man. "What the hell are you?"
"I asked you first."
"Well I got the gun."
Smiling, the man picked up a hand full of the bullets. "They don't work."
Breathing out through his nose, Chris shook his head in acceptance. "We're team seven of the Federal Marshalls."
"Man, I knew it." Shaking his head, the black man stood up and dusted off his now worthless clothes. "Ruined my best damned outfit too. I told your bosses I could handle this. Name's Nathan Jackson, professional vigilanty, by the way."
"We've heard of you." Chris pointed at the bodies. "Your work?"
"Nah, the fairy queen of Midguard swoopt in here, lopt them to bits with her rapier whit and then flew off in time for you lot to storm in here and shoot a brother full of silver..." He began coughing and shaking, his chest seeming to close in on itself. Nathan twitched slightly and his coughs turned in to hacking. A moment more and he spit up a wad of blood and bullets. Wiping off his mouth, he spit at Chris' feet. "Silver bullets. I'll be pickin them things out of my ass for weeks. It just aint right."
"Sorry 'bout that, we followed the demons here and thought it was just them inside." Chris stepped forward and offered his hands. "I guess we owe you a debt of gratitude."
Taking the offered hand, Nathan shook it hard. "And one hell of a sign on bonus. This is the last job I do freelance for that bunch of blood suckers. If they want anything else from me, they had best find me a place on one of your teams."
"I'll see what I can do about that. From the looks of things here, we could use a man like you." Giving the black man a measured look, he smirked. "And that resurrection thing comes in handy too."
"It does, but it hurt like a bitch when I got it." Nathan put an arm around Chris' shoulders and led him from the crime scene. "Tell ya what, you buy me a new shirt and I'll tell you about how I came to be a two hundred year-old former slave in sheep's clothing over dinner."
"Let me guess, I'm buyin that too."
"Give the man a prize."
THE END.........................
For more information, see the AU.