| Hear Me Out |
[27 May 2008|02:14pm] |
This whole government thing was getting really annoying. If for no other reason than Faith hadn’t staked a single vamp in almost two weeks. Either the population had dwindled – which the Slayer doubted – or the feds were forcing them into seclusion.
Whichever it was, Faith was a Slayer in need of a slay.
Even the cemeteries, once an oasis of undead, had run dry. Fresh graves remained undisturbed during the night, the only action coming from a confused vamp who tried to climb from his casket as the sun rose. It was funny to watch, even if it did mean one less nose to break.
Faith had never been one to just sit on a headstone all night and wait for a vampire to rise, but considering the obituary she’d read on Nathan Faulkner in the Beacon, she was sure he’d rise any minute.
And if he didn’t, she’d kill him.
( No brain surgery )
|
|
| The Elephant In The Room |
[27 May 2008|04:47pm] |
Julie had returned home after the raid, despite the concern that agents might be waiting to arrest her there. Others may run, but Julia Katherine Sanchez had done enough of that and the werewolf was standing her ground. Searchlight was her home, and she'd be damned if she'd let anyone send her packing before she was ready.
She'd arrived back to business as usual, nothing had changed in the small sleepy town in the time she'd been away to the meeting. Julie came home to an empty apartment and proceeded to take a shower to rinse off the stench of tear gas and cigarette smoke before watching tv for a while and turning in.
Strangely enough, the raid on the bar wasn't even mentioned on the evening news.
The next morning the werewolf made her way to Mallory's trailer. It had been some time since she'd talked with her friend and it wasn't like the redhead not to at least pop into the bar and chitchat every so often. Julie reached the front steps to the trailer and knocked on the door.
Well, at least now Mallory had something new to be upset about.
She'd come home at around dawn and collapsed into sleep for a few hours, then checked the news. There was nothing about the raid, which stood to reason. The redhead looked at her badge, which was still attached to her government-issued jacket, then looked at the uninformative television.
What she had seen had not been what she'd signed up for.
She was just starting breakfast when there was a knock on the door, and Tuffy barked once before trotting into the living room as if he could answer it. Dumb dog. Mallory shook her head and called, "One sec!" before finishing putting on some coffee and following suit.
She paused for a second too long when she found Julie standing on her front porch, but her voice was casual when she finally spoke. "Well. Long time, no see. I just put on some coffee. Want a cup?"
( No apologies )
|
|
| In the Name of Causing Trouble |
[27 May 2008|06:44pm] |
May 18, 2012
At just after 9pm, Davey's Locker, a shit-hole that masqueraded as a locals bar, went under siege.
Two dozen heavily armed Federal Agents stormed the premises under orders from Project Integration. The goal was to capture as many assembled 'illegals' as possible, using non-lethal means. There was resistance and what might have seemed like an easy take for the government turned into a brutal fight. By the time the building was secured, eleven illegals had been captured and caged inside two transport vehicles. The Federal Agents were loaded into separate vehicles, one of which embarked on the return trip to headquarters in Henderson, Nevada. The other made a stop at the Sunrise Hospital and Medical Center three blocks away, where several Agents were treated for injuries.
The government vehicles left the scene at approximately 9:41pm. But not before a call was made from a cell phone inside transport vehicle number four.
It was answered by David Fuller, a reporter for the Clark County Beacon. He was instructed by the vehicle's driver to grab a camera and get to the East Tropicana Avenue on-ramp for I-95 South as quickly as possible. What was about to unfold was guaranteed to be a very newsworthy event.
Fuller got to the scene within five minutes of the call. He pulled his car off the road, got out, and turned on the camera. At first nothing of note happened, except that two large, government-issue vans took the ramp to I-95. Not two minutes later, Fuller got what he'd come for.
A third government van signaled for the ramp. But then its driver seemed to lose control of the vehicle. It plowed through the guardrail, careened up the embankment and slammed into a group of trees. Fuller didn't know whether to call 9-11 or keep rolling. The reporter in him chose option two. With his camera at the ready, he moved closer.
As Fuller watched, the driver kicked his buckled door open and climbed out with his cap pulled low over his face. He signaled the reporter over. Moving a little closer now, Fuller captured the license plate number of the van. Strange noises were coming through the back doors-- a mixture of human-sounding voices and animal snarls. He focused his camera on it and waited, ready to dart back to his car if anything lunged out at him.
The driver yanked the doors open, revealing a massive steel cage, which was now bent on one side of its frame. Inside there were at least six creatures of varying shapes and sizes. All but one were conscious and kicking furiously at the metal door.
Fuller, a man who made his career on words, only managed to mumble, "Son of a bitch..."
The driver spoke up. "If I were you, I'd get my footage and get out of here."
"Before they break the door down?" Fuller asked.
Darian was already leaving. "Or the government gets here. Whatever comes first."
|
|
| Off the Deep End |
[27 May 2008|09:53pm] |
Logan's leg had healed remarkably well, though he still moved with a limp.
In fact, the Watcher considered it a minor miracle he was still alive, given Samantha's decree of being back in 24 hours. The Slayer never showed, which Logan was thankful for. The reporter in him wondered why she didn't return as promised, but he didn't bother himself too much with the details; he was just glad to still have all his limbs.
Even if one of them had a hole in it.
He sat gingerly at the table at the diner, glad Starnes agreed to meet with him -- and even more glad she chose to do in public, in the light of day. His one run-in with Samantha put the fear of the Slayer into Logan, and he suddenly found himself re-thinking whether or not he actually wanted to guide one. Right now, he was simply trying to help put one behind bars and make sure her son didn't get lost in the chaos.
"Detective," he said with a nervous edge to his voice, resting his cane in the corner of the booth. He glanced at the menu before retrieving the folder he kept on the Slayer, though he wasn't particularly hungry.
Logan didn't have anything new to offer on Samantha -- well, nothing Starnes would believe -- but he figured it was best if he shared what he had.
"Thanks for getting back to me," he added after an awkward pause. "This ... this isn't good. Like, shit my pants not good."
[Thread open to Starnes and Logan.]
|
|