Agent Fox Mulder (i_want_2) wrote in multi_fiction, @ 2008-08-16 16:02:00 |
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Entry tags: | angel, au, buffy, het, kindred, magnificent 7, rated: adult, slash, wolf lake, world of darkness, x-over |
Fic: Azaeziel and Raziel 2/3 M7 AU Xover
Azaeziel and Raziel
By: Lopaka Tanu
Disclaimer: I do not own Kindred the Embraced, World of Darkness, Buffy: The Vampire Slayer, Wolf Lake, or Magnificent Seven.
Warning: Violence, Blood, Language, Character Death.
Summary: "The chronicles of my existence are far from complete, and aside from myself, no one will ever know the complete truth."
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Spring - 1888.
Ezra rubbed his foot up the leg of the man lying half on top of him. When his lover arched up to smile at him, Ezra returned it. Tangling his fingers in Vin's hair, he brought him closer to kiss him. Despite all his best efforts he could never refuse this man anything. Having thought it over, he came to the only conclusion that made sense. "I've finally figured it out, Vin."
"Oh, and what's that?" Laying his head back down, Vin draped himself even more over the ancient.
"I've figured out what you are. You are the first I have ever met, but there are tells of your kind through out history." Ezra knew he was on to something when Vin tensed. Rubbing his hand down the other's back, he sought to calm him. "You're an incubus. That is the only explanation to why I have absolutely no will of my own around you. I can deny you nothing, I have willingly sacrificed whatever freedoms I had just to be near you, and the only thoughts that flow through my mind are about you. That, simply put, is the entire sum of my evidence, yet it is all I need."
"Well, I'm glad you figured that out." Smiling, Vin pressed a kiss to Ezra's chest over the heart he knew that had stopped long ago. "I've decided to give up the bounty hunter business, Ez. I've got enough money to make it on my own and I want a new life. I want you in it."
"I am in your life, Mr. Tanner." Feeling the pleasant haze of sleep coming on, Ezra yawned. "With you around I always feel alive."
"Then come with me and remain that way." Sitting up, Vin placed a hand on Ezra's chest to get his attention. Shaking the cold muscles under his palm, he woke up the ancient. "Stay with me, Ezra, I'm serious."
"I know." Ezra tried to fight off the malaise, but something kept tugging him back towards sleep. It was when he tasted blood he knew something was wrong. His eyes shot open and he stared up at the worried face of his lover.
Vin pulled his hand back from Ezra's mouth, holding it tightly to stop the flow. "Wake up, Ezra, I think something is wrong."
"Of course it is wrong, you whoring catamite!" Walking through the door, Maude raised the short sword she'd hidden in her parasol. The door closed behind her locking in place seemingly of its own will. "So you are the spawn that has been keeping what is mine from me."
"Who the hell are you, lady?" Getting up from the bed, Vin pulled out his mare's leg. "If you don't get out, I'm gonna put a nice big hole in your pretty head."
"And god said to wipe them from the face of the earth!" Bringing her sword down in a wide arc, Maude snarled her rage. Shortly afterwards, the thump of a body without its head hitting the floor echoed in the room. She turned to catch Ezra on the bed only to come face to face with the very creature she sought. "Ezra?"
Eyes bleeding red, Ezra drove the dagger deeper in to her heart. Twisting, he made sure to cause as much pain as possible. He rode her down to the floor shrieking mad. Not much was left when they found the body the next day.
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Summer - 1939.
Ezra stood on one side of the dimensional barrier as the Master stood on the other. Without a hint of emotion, he traced a hand down the barrier. "It is far from the punishment I would have dealt you, but I think eternity trapped just beyond the world you sought to control will have to do."
The Master glowered at the being that had locked him in the prison, interfering with his plans the moment they were about to be realized. "You think because I can not touch physically, I can not reach you?"
"I know this for a fact." Pushing against the barrier, Ezra allowed his true form to show. "Did you think I merely disrupted your spell to open the Hellmouth? You are an even bigger fool than Modra ever was. To think you can completely control me was evidence of that." He slammed the barrier and the ground around them shook. "I caused the quake that trapped you here."
Tilting his head, the Master let his hand fall to the side. "It seems I underestimated you, Ezra."
"That seems to be the main consensus." Ezra turned away from the barrier and headed for the steps. Walking passed the minions, he raised his arms and disappeared in an explosion of air.
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Summer - 1967.
Ezra watched the sun come up from the pier, leaning over the arm rails. His navy colored blazer clashed with the orange of his hair. The night before had been a drunken debauchery and revelry he hadn't experienced since the twenties. It seemed this century would never cease to find new ways to amuse him.
After the second world war, which he had had a major hand in thanks to a little thing called the Manhattan Project, he had floated from experience to experience. After watching the world end on a daily basis had lost its appeal nearly twenty years ago. Now, it was all about peace, love, and unprotected sex.
Smiling, Ezra picked the piece of hair from his teeth. Of course, that didn't stop the predator in him. They might find the bodies, then again, they might not. Humans were worthless creatures, fickle in their emotions and pleasures. Nothing seemed to please him more than seeing the horror of their own deaths after such a meaningless existence.
Speaking of meaningless, the arrival of a group of navy boys for their last shore leave before shipping out signaled it was time to pick up his trade. Unzipping the front of his shirt, he slapped a little color in the too pale skin. Despite his best attempts, the only way to keep color in his skin was to consume vast amounts of blood. Either that, or consume a creature of mystical blood. Garou were getting harder to come by and the local licks were too afraid of him to allow him to get close for a nip.
Sure, he could start actively hunting down the local mystical population, but then the nuisance of a prince would probably call a blood hunt. He was pretty sure he could destroy any thing that came after him for his blood, but the hassle wasn't worth it. At least, not yet. If he didn't find entertainment soon then San Francisco was going to experience a blood bath like none since the dark ages.
Glancing up at the cat calls of a few sailors, he ignored the bulk of them. Switching his sex to female had allowed him greater leeway in his actions. However temporary, it was enough to scare the locals in the single fact that he could do it. Only the most adept or truly ancient could will such a change.
One sailor stopped by long enough to run a hand up his thigh. Wrapping his hands around Ezra's body, he pulled him flush against his body. "How's about you and I find a place more private?"
"Sorry, not interested." Tossing his hair, Ezra started to lean forward again. The press of a dewclaw to his neck made him halt. "A day walker, I should have known."
"What say you now? Don't make me hurt you. The prince wants a word with you." The man tugged at Ezra's neck with his claw.
Smiling in amusement, Ezra reached up and touched the Kindred's skin. Without a second thought, he reshaped the hand in to a shapeless lump of flesh.
The Kindred let him go with a shriek. "Tzimisce!"
Spinning, Ezra shifted back to male and kicked the kindred across the pier. His form grew in size and distorted. His fingers increased length and his skin went sickly pale. Pustules and cankers covered his skin giving it a rotten look. The now Nosferatu appearing Ezra towered over the cowering kindred. "Tell that insignificant Prince I will do as I please, when I please. If I wish to meet with him, I shall do so."
The now smaller kindred tried to back away, but Ezra was instantly upon him. "If you kill me, they will hunt you down!"
"I don't plan on killing you." Breaking his neck, Ezra twisted until he had perfect access to his jugular. He drained the lick until there was almost nothing left and tossed him in the ocean. When the minion recovered, he would relay the message. By that time, Ezra would be ready to deal with the Prince. In the mean while, he glanced around.
No one had noticed a thing, their entire exchange had been ignored through no small effort of his will. Wiping his mouth, he shifted back to the now comfortable female form and leaned back against the pylon. Striking a pose, he trailed his hands down his body and waited for the sailors to come to him.
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Autumn - 1967.
The summer of free love was over. He stared at the soldier boys running around with their girl friends, boyfriends, and other pieces of meat. Turning up his collar, Ezra walked down the streets to disappear in the crowds. Events of the past couple weeks had caused him nothing but boredom. More and more of the leeches grew bolder in their observing of him.
To be exact, he had become a novelty, something to be visited like that damn bridge or the pier. It wasn't like there was a whole lot he could do about it that wouldn't arouse the suspicions of the entire Camarilla. As it was, however, his mere presence might be enough for that. Or at least those gawking kindred appeared to make it so.
Glancing over his shoulder, he saw six of them this time. They were moving in tune with each other, signaling the others.
"Wonderful, I had thought I would go without sustenance." Bracing himself, Ezra forced the blood in his veins to distort his appearance. To the crowd around him he seemed to fade from existence. None of the humans were the wiser, not even the 8mm cameras the tourists were using.
Smiling, he watched as the hunting pack panicked when they lost sight of him. The first of them came to stand where he had disappeared, cautiously scanning for his presence. Ezra's hand shot out and caught the unlucky stiff by the neck and dragged him close. To his cotorie, he seemed to have vanished in thin air.
A woman in full biker leathers and shaved head reeled back, her forward momentum causing her feet to slide out from under her. Panicking, she skittered back from the direction her pack mate disappeared. "Its a fucking ancient!"
That decided it, they all had to die. Dropping the stiff, Ezra increased his speed to outrun the pack. As he passed each one, his hand came down in a hacking motion. In moments they were each decapitated. When the last of them was dead, he willed the crowd to forget what it saw. There was almost no commotion in reaction.
Almost.
A young woman behind him screamed as he knelt down to drain the body of the biker kindred. Turning on her, his hand shot out and sent her flying across the street directly in front of a truck. There wasn't much left of her for the M.E. to scrape off the street.
Sighing with contentment, Ezra finished draining the bodies of the kindred. When he finished sucking the last of the blood from the final leech, he dropped the body and belched. "Pardon me." Using the kindred's own shirt, he wiped away the blood that coated his face. He frowned. Sometimes he was such a glutton.
More time than not was spent searching for his next meal. He had lost all thought about living and focused solely on the hunt. Ezra knew it was the path that lead to the beast most of his kind eventually succumbed to. There was a reason there were very few truly ancient Gangrel. After a time, the need for blood became too great; the apathy to the world situation became so overwhelming that the simpler life of the beast just became the easier solution. When they gave into the beast, they lost their humanity and were hunted down.
He was different than most, of course. Ezra hadn't lived as Gangrel for eight thousand years. In the interlining century since he freed himself from the hold of Maude, Ezra had continued the traditions of the Tzimisce. This state had been his haven for over a hundred years.
In some ways he was still the Gangrel of Ennoia's creation, he still sought to protect his home. He still preferred to be alone than in the company of others. There were nights when all Ezra could think about was becoming one with the Earth and letting the world weather him. However, he avoided most of those things. The last time he had let himself indulge in the Gangrel heritage, he had lost an entire decade. He had woken to find he was buried under a studio lot. If people looked real closely to some of the old silent movies of werewolves, they could see him in the back ground.
The world had come and gone while he stood there watching. Most of the technical marvels were unimpressive to him. A recording image, carts that moved themselves, flying sarcophagi that screamed as they crashed, all of it, worthless.
So caught up in his musings, he missed the arrival of several black cars. However, the familiar stench of Ventrue blood filled his nostrils and woke him from the revery. Damned aristocrats thought they ruled the world. What they fooled themselves in to believing was of no consequences to him.
Shifting to his female form, Ezra pushed the blood through his veins, changing his body appearance until he was the perfect example of a living woman. He enlarged the bust and unbuttoned the shirt to show off the cleavage. Checking his reflection in a back window, he smiled. His hair was now long and pulled up in a top not. The gogo boots he wore matched the leather skirt and black vinyl top.
He shuddered.
Just what in hell possessed the females of the era to wear this horrid clothing? He had picked them off a dead girl, he figured she didn't need them anymore. Not that he had killed her, the drugs had seen to that. Not that he let her still warm blood pass him by, and the buzz he got from the drugs was pleasing for a time.
Image complete, Ezra strutted out on the main street to check out the scenery. Above him he could sense the presence of three Gangrel as one owl and two bats. In the shadows across the street a Nosferatu scanned up from the sewers. Along the streets were probably fifty Gangrel, Ventrue, and toreador. So the prince and his entourage had finally come to pay him a visit.
That would explain why the cotorie had been hunting him.
Ezra stood back and watched, appearing to nonchalantly lean against a telephone pole, hands folded behind him. Their command structure wasn't immediately obvious and he had to keep up the charade, so he missed several signals. The leader was here, he just couldn't look around to find out who it was or else they would spot him. A well dressed man, a toreador from the smell, started to walk passed him.
Ezra stepped in front of the man, hands on his hips. Winking at the man, he puffed up his chest with a deep breath. "Hey there, fella, lookin for a good time?"
"Get out of my way, whore." The man passed him by, pushing him out of the way.
"Hey, asshole!" Ezra kicked the toreador in the shin and walked back to his pole. Leaning back again, he scanned the street and caught sight of a black haired venture conferring with a middle aged Ventrue. They were scanning the streets cautiously, acknowledging subtle signals from their people. 'Bingo!' Adjusting the large breasts on his chest, Ezra grumbled about them. This was probably the last time he ever used such an nonfunctional form.
Appearing to spot a better John down the street, Ezra strutted towards the Ventrue elder. He passed three men who he guessed were supposed to be body guards. They only glanced his way to check out his body and then went back to searching. 'Fools, this is too easy.' He was now only a few paces from what he assumed to be the prince.
Just as he was about to reach them, the shadows from across the street sped in his direction. 'Ah ha, so they aren't all complete lack wits' To be on the safe side, he adjusted his course slowly to move passed the prince but keep him in sight. Ezra reached parallel with the prince when the shadow coalesced under the car next to the prince. He ended up leaning against the trunk of the car.
Reaching a hand between the annoying boobs, he pulled out a pack of cigarettes. He shook out the lighter and one of the sticks. Lighting it up, he took a deep puff from it and blew it in the direction of the prince and his enforcer. The enforcer glared at him with his bi-colored eyes. "Looking for a good time, gentlemen?"
The prince turned around, putting out a hand to forestall his enforcer's objections. Smiling, he stepped closer to Ezra. "I am sorry, but I am not in the mood tonight. Perhaps some other time."
"Oh, but I am and some other time isn't good for me, darlin." How he hated the sound of his cultured voice being butchered, but the illusion had to be complete. "See, I'm gonna be movin on soon. Now, I promise to make it good for ya," glancing at the enforcer, he smiled, "both of ya."
"That would not be wise."
Ezra turned to look over his shoulder to see a man in a large coat and wide brimmed hat.
The Nosferatu.
"Howdy, stranger. I'm just doing a little business here, there's no need to get protective." Taking a deep puff, he blew it out towards the Nosferatu. "Unless you're one of those prudes, then you can just fuck off."
"I am merely concerned about your safety." Walking around the car, the Nosferatu stood next to Ezra. "Not everything is what it appears to be."
Stamping out the cigarette, Ezra stood up and glowered at the towering vampire. "I don't need anyone's concern. I can handle myself."
"Perhaps." Putting out a hand to touch him, the Nosferatu tried to grab Ezra's arm. He found a knife blade at his gut for his efforts. "I guess you can."
"You better believe it, sugar." Twisting to stare at the prince again, Ezra tried a seductive look. "What say you, honey, one on one for a night of pleasure you'll never forget?"
"I am afraid I am really too busy." Chuckling, the prince turned his back to consult with his enforcer once more.
"Perhaps if I were to appear in another sex then?" Ezra now stood in his male form. Crossing his arms in the too tight shirt, he hid the blade back down the sleeve. "I really am disappointed in you, Archon."
"Pardon?" Archon twisted to see who had spoken and froze. Staring at the ancient in gogo boots started a twitch at the corner of his eyes. "At last we meet."
Shrugging, Ezra gave him an enigmatic smile. "The last I heard we still hadn't been properly introduced. Awfully unfriendly of you Ventrue, if I do say so."
"Are you truly a Tzimisce?" He studied Ezra carefully, trying to make any connections with the tales his own sire had told him.
"Actually, it and I had a close, personal relationship for almost fifty centuries." Stepping closer to the prince, he wasn't a bit surprised when the enforcer moved in front to protect his prince. "Stand down, little bat, I have no intention of harming your dear master."
"What is to say you are telling the truth?" Julian Luna, the prince's enforcer, advanced towards Ezra, fangs descending in anticipation of a confrontation.
"Julian, don't." This time all three men turned to stare at the Nosferatu. Holding out his hand, Daedolus offered it to Ezra. "I ask your consent."
Automatically taking his hand, Ezra gripped it. "Given."
"Azaeziel," Daedolus asked. He pulled Ezra's wrist to his lips and sniffed the skin.
"That is a name I have not heard in an age." Ezra grimaced when the Nosferatu bit in to his arm. "Just a taste." Pulling back his arm, Ezra licked his wrist to seal the wound. "Satisfied?"
Daedolus, who had closed his eyes, seemed to shiver. "Only with your identity." When he opened them, his eyes were solid gold and his fangs had enlarged. "How old are you?"
"Give or take a century, last count was eighty-five hundred years." He shifted back to his female form in order to get more comfortable in his clothes. Bumping up the breast, he gave a put upon sigh. "These things are more trouble than they are worth."
"How is it possible? You appear completely human." Julian scanned Ezra with silver eyes. "You shouldn't even exist."
Reaching blood colored nails out, Ezra grazed the cheek of the enforcer. "Too bad, sugar, you already blew your chance." Patting the scoured flesh, Ezra turned and pushed passed him. "May be we will meet again, may be we won't. Do not go about actively seeking me again, next time I can not promise to be so forgiving." Before their very eyes he disappeared.
This time Daedolus could sense nothing of the ancient vampire and a thrill of fear shot down his spine.
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Summer - 1970.
Ezra sat with his back to the radio tower, watching the jungle for movements. He could sense the humans among the underbrush and it amused him that they could think it so easy to sneak up on him. Pen pointing their location, he pulled a grenade from his hip.
"Standish, what the hell do you think you are doin?" Sargent Gilespie reached out to grab Ezra's arm.
Ignoring the uptight human, Ezra bit the pin, pulled it out and tossed the grenade within two feet of the VCs.
"What the fuck do you think..." Gilespie was cut off as the explosion rang out in the night. Several secondary explosions filled the jungle from the enemies weapons exploding. "Enemy ambush! Get down!"
Grinning like a maniac, Ezra walked passed the now petrified commanding officer. Pulling up his gun, he scanned the horizon for any he missed, just for show. He knew he had killed them all with the one blast. They shouldn't have been carrying such a large ordinance.
When he stood over the ground where one of the fallen Vietcong still laid gasping, Ezra tilted his head. This was new. The creature should clearly be dead, yet it wasn't. Glancing about to make sure they were alone, Ezra smiled down at the Chinese vampire like creature. His fangs descending, he snatched it up and drained it of life.
Tossing the body to the ground, he smiled at the now desiccated corpse. Funny enough, it tasted the same as any other vampire.
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Two Days Later.
Ezra woke up in darkness, sitting up, he felt a stabbing in his head. He groaned as he rubbed at his temple. Once there, his hand encountered something completely strange. Pulling whatever it was off his head, he stared at it in confusion. Why was he wearing a pair of boxers on his head?
Reaching down to rub his abdomen, he felt something strange inside him. Groaning, Ezra rubbed at an itch on his chest. The pain inside was growing in intensity. Standing up, he walked to the edge of the darkness and found a wall.
Ezra lead himself along the wall til he found a door and walked out in to the night. The night air was instantly cold on his skin. Shivering, he continued on towards his unconscious goal. Upon reaching the building, he lowered his shorts and sat down. It wasn't until the relief hit him that he realized exactly what was wrong.
He couldn't remember a damn thing.
Well, he could remember some things like his name, and that he was in the navy. However, beyond the most basic details of his service record, there wasn't a single personal memory. He felt like he memorized the details of his life from a file instead of having lived them.
Standing up, he wiped off and walked out of the out house. Morning fog filled the camp as the sky lightened in the east. For some reason the sight of the sun coming up sent a shiver of fear through him. However, the sun hitting his skin had him taking a good look at himself. It felt strange, but Ezra didn't even remember what he looked like.
A part of his mind said his breast were about average size. Of course, being their size, he couldn't see anything lower without moving them. Narrowed waist with wide hips hidden beneath navy issue white boxers. Aside from something aesthetically displeasing about his slightly hairy body, he felt normal.
A high pitched whistle had him turning around. He frowned at the appearance of the black man twenty paces away, he seemed familiar.
"Son of a bitch, I knew it!" Running a hand over his sheered scalp, the man set his gun down and grinned at Ezra. "That McDonald is one lucky mother fucker."
"Blow me, Turner." Ezra grabbed himself and started off back towards what felt like his hut. On a whim, he rounded back on Turner. "What the hell happened last night?"
"You don't remember?" At Ezra's stare, Turner chuckled and held up his hands. "K, I'll take that as a yes." Picking up his gun again, the man gestured for Ezra to follow him. "Come sit by the fire, I've got the coffee made."
"I don't like..."
"Coffee, sorry, just remembered. Been a team for two years and still can't remember shit about you at times." Shaking his head, Turner sat down on the logs they used for benches. After pouring himself a cup, he drank half it down before building up the courage to tell his friend. "You've been on a bender for two days, ranting and raving about some weird shit, man. Private McDonald thought you were exposed to something the VC had on'em when you went to inspect them after Sargent Puss went running for higher ground. Finally, after we got back here last night, he pumped you full of some shit that they use to detox the morphine addicts and you turned in to the biggest slut."
Ezra rubbed at his groin area, that would explain that. "So who all did I mount?"
"Well none of us wanted to fuck ya, cause at the time we thought you were a dude. Some how you cornered McDonald and the next thing I know you're screaming how you've had better in San Francisco. Jones, being the pervert he is, went to peek at you and about blew a load in pants. Comes back five minutes later reeking of jism and cigarette smoke and says you ain't no dude." By now Turner was cackling and holden his chest. Sneaking a peek at the glare Ezra was sending him, Turner rolled with laughter. "You... You shoulda seen the look on Mac's face after you passed out. Pure golden!"
"Pardon me while I express my merriment. Oh joy, oh joy, you are such a riot. Stop, you are killing me." Given in his bored tone, it had the opposite effect that Ezra had intended.
Turner's shrieks of laughter scattered the birds and awoke the camp. By the time he had once again settled down enough to gasp in enough breath to breathe, the rest of the guys were walking out among them.
Parker, rubbing the blue black hair on his belly, let out a yawn that echoed in the camp. When he blinked open his eyes, he stared at the source of the laughter. Intending to yell at Turner, he could only stare in shock at Ezra. "Damn, Standish, you got a sweet ass."
"What a coincidence, Parker, your resemblance to one is uncanny." Standing up self consciously, Ezra folded his arms over his chest. Well, he tried twice before succeeding.
"Great rack to go with." Henson came around, pinching Ezra on the ass.
Ezra grabbed him by the sandy blonde hair and brought his knee to his gut. Smiling at the gasping man, he patted his cheek. "I suggest in the future to prevent such painful misunderstanding, you keep your hands to yourself."
"What, Mac's good enough, but we ain't?" Parker crossed his arms, glaring at Ezra.
"Had I not been under the influence of a controlled substance we would not even be having this conversation. I suggest you forget this ever happened and mind your own business." Turning around, Ezra came face to face with familiar furious blue eyes. "Private McDonald, if you would kindly get out of my way."
"No." Standing at the same height and body build, they were equally matched. However, McDonald didn't know how dirty Ezra was willing to play.
Ezra held up a hand, waved his fingers at the man, then shot down to grab him by the balls. Clenching them tightly, he pulled on them. "You had free rein of me last night, but I am no longer under the influence. Which, I might add, is the only reason you ever get lucky. With Sargent Gilespie out searching for the Wizard of Oz with his little dog, I am in command. You will obey my orders without fail, do I make myself clear?"
"Perfectly." Gasping, McDonald sobbed with relief after Ezra released him.
"That is very good, Private. You men prepare to break camp, I wish to depart and be on the trail by seven." Cracking his knuckles, Ezra moved off towards his hut once more. "I have a coward to crucify."
After the door on the hut closed behind him, Turner let out a low whistle. "That is one mean bitch. I'd hate to be in Gilespie's shoes when we get back."
"What the fuck are we gonna do?" Parker sat down at the fire and poured himself a cup of the coffee. "I don't know about you, but I ain't followin no chick into battle."
"That chick is a whole lot fucking scarier than you, Parks." Henson rubbed at his stomach and sent a glare at Ezra's hut. "And if you haven't noticed, you've been following one for two years."
"Two years," Jones said wistfully. He bumped arms with Turner. "Two brothers, two years and we ain't figured it out. We must be losing our touch."
"Speak for yourself, brother, I've been too busy ducking bullets and worrying about whether the girl I've been sleeping with is a VC to notice whether someone's got a dick or not. And I don't look, if you know what I mean." That got a good round of chuckles.
McDonald came to sit by the fire, hand running through his light brown hair. "I don't understand it."
"What? Old dragon lady rode ya last night and now thinks she owns your ass? Same old story, different country. Women been that way for thousands of years, Ezzie ain't no different." Cackling, Turner elbowed McDonald teasingly. "Seriously, man, what's got you stumped?"
"Ezra. He, I mean she, ain't acting right. And I don't mean just cause we figured out her secret." Looking at the others, he lowered his voice. "For the past two days she's been completely all over my case. Then all of a sudden last night she's got her clothes off and throwing me over the bunk before you can say howdy."
"Man, that ain't nothin new, my Elisa's the same way. It's called the special time of the month. Her little visitor comes, and heaven help anyone that gets in the way. Though, when she is horny, you can't fuck her enough." Jones sighed wistfully in memory.
"But usually he's, I mean she's so fucking collected. Like a damned machine. In fact, the only time he shows any emotions is when he is shooting people." They all shuddered.
"Bitch is nuts. It happens." Henson smacked McDonald on the back. "All I can say is better thee than me."
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Autumn - 1970.
"God damn it!" Kicking the door shut, Ezra screamed in rage. The other guys in the bunk house jumped from their beds, ready to defend themselves. Upon seeing who it was, they sheltered down once more on the bunks, thumbing their knives just in case. Ezra made his way down the row of cots to Parker's. When the man ignored him, he picked up the foot locker and tossed it at the wall just above his head. "You son of a bitch!"
"Hey, you crazy cunt!" Sitting up, Parker threw the comic he had been reading to the floor. "Are you trying to kill me?"
"If I had intended to terminate your existence, you pig fucker, the wall would have gotten a new coat of red paint!" Stomping up the bunk, Ezra back handed the man out of his bed. "You are going to pay for every second I am to suffer in that hell hole!" He stomped on Parker's hand and swung his leg to kick him in the face. Before he could connect, three men were pulling him back. "Release my person this instant! He will pay for this!"
"Let him go!" Turner and McDonald, having just entered the bunk saw the men holding Ezra back. Turner was at their side in an instant, pulling the men off of Ezra. "Back off, honkey, don't make me kick your white boy asses!"
"Stay out of this nigger, he started it!" That was all the private got out before McDonald had decked him.
"Thanks, man." Turner sent him a nod while tearing off another of the men from Ezra.
"Any time, I always got your back." McDonald pulled the other man off Ezra. Then he watched as Ezra lunged at the standing Parker. "Ezra, what the hell?"
"You son of a bitch!" Ezra drove his knee up in to Parker's face. When the man went down again, Ezra drew back and kicked him hard in the nuts. "They will never promote you, not now, not ever!"
McDonald grabbed Ezra by the waist and lifted him over his shoulder. "Calm down, Standish, do it now!"
"Fuck you, McDonald, you don't own me!" Ezra shook with rage, but stopped trying to move. "Put me down, Mac, I'm not through with him yet!"
"Take her to the latrine, Mac, I'll patch up Parker." Turner knelt down by the bloodied man and shook his head. "Man, whatever the hell you did, you probably deserved it."
McDonald carried Ezra to bathroom and locked the door behind him. Setting Ezra down on one of the commodes, he stepped back and crossed his arms. "I'm waiting, Ezra, you gonna tell me what happened?"
Clenching his fists, Ezra sent a death glare McDonald's way. "That uncouth son of a bitch propositioned me. When I refused, he tried to rape me, tried being the operative word. I went to report him this morning, but instead I am brought before a disciplinary committee. Seems he reported my sex to the Lieutenant on duty and said I was trying to hide my deception of the navy. They sentenced me to five months in the stockade for impersonating a man and to under go psychiatric evaluation during that time. If I am found mentally incompetent, I can face court martial!"
McDonald leaned back against the sink in shock. He stared at the woman in front of him and sighed. "Is there anything I can do to help?"
"The decision has already been made. The only reason they haven't already started proceedings is my exemplary service record and the stink it would raise." Glancing down at his hands, Ezra took a shuddering breath. "They're gonna learn the truth when examining me. Five months is a long time and by then it's gonna show."
"Just tell them the truth, you have amnesia. They'll understand, and possibly help you get your memory back." Crossing his arms, McDonald stared at his girlfriend carefully. "Though, it's been three months, the only people I heard gettin their memory back after so long were on them soaps my mom watches."
Giving McDonald a searching look, Ezra bit his lip and lowered his head. "My tour will have come to a conclusion just after I am released. I plan on accepting the weekend deal for reservists. However, since I will not be an active officer, I won't have a stable income anymore. Now I am not aware of the opinions everywhere, but most people who see I served in the navy are going to question my mental status. Employment is not looking in my favor."
Smiling, McDonald patted the front of his pants. "Well, there is always your other service."
"How badly do you wish to keep your body intact, Mr. McDonald?"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Winter - 1977.
Something was screaming, calling out to him.
Ezra sat up on the ground, the cold snow and earth molding to his body. In panic, he checked over his body and realized he was complete once more. Everything was there, right down to his claws, fur, and fangs. Standing up, he shivered to knock the dirt, snow, and other gunk from his clothes. He was still in uniform, that much was a plus.
He moved through the cemetery, avoiding the head stones and frozen plastic flowers littering the ground. Judging by some of the dates on the newer tombstones, another decade had passed. This time he could partially remember what happened. He had joined the god forsaken military. The navy of all organizations. Ezra hated water!
After draining the Chinese kindred, he couldn't remember a damned thing. He made researching the blood suckers his top priority. That is once he figured out where the hell he was. The name on the cemetery didn't ring any bells, so he was no where near California.
Walking out on the street, he pulled off his hat and stuck it under his arm. Apparently he had kept the buzz cut from his time in the navy. He decided to expend the blood and grow it out to his preferred length. It was only a little longer, but it meant the difference between friendly and hostile to most people. They rightly assumed a flat top meant hard assed.
He walked through the gates and to the edge of the road. It was an old dirt road, no one was coming down here unless they had business here. Deciding it was worth the risk of wasting too much blood, he shifted to owl form. Shortly after turning, he took flight.
It was dawn before he decided to set down. He was on the edge of a small town and the patrons seemed friendly enough. With any luck, he could stop in the local diner for a nip and suck then be on his way in the back of some big rig to sleep his way to California. With any luck, of course.
Of course, life was not in his favor. The moment he stepped through the diner doors, he knew he was in deep shit. The entire population were garou.
He was weak blooded at the moment and really couldn't afford to hide what he was, so he let it hang out. If they wanted a fight, he would be willing to power up and drain the whole lot of them dry. When they only snorted and turned back to their meals, he walked back inside and sat down.
The waitress came by and set a glass full of red stuff in front of him without even asking if he wanted it. She pulled out a straw and set it next to the drink. Giving him the once over, she walked away.
'Strange place.' He decided to follow common curtesy and drank the blood with a straw. However, drinking it from a cup instead of a live host made it boring and he began to amuse himself by blowing bubbles in it. This was met by a firm clearing of the waitress' throat. Smiling at her, he finished off the blood and wiped his lips.
She came by with the bill and walked off.
Reaching in his pants pocket, he pulled out the billfold. There was only a single twenty inside. Putting it on the table, he stood up. He smiled at the folks in the diner and walked out.
Traffic through the small town was non existent. Having enough sense to get out of town before the curiosity wore off, he shifted to a large Canadian Goose. It was big and lumbering, but it would allow him to move over greater distances at higher altitudes. Taking flight, he shot up towards the sky and away from the earth.
Following the inherent sense of direction he headed towards his home port, San Francisco. May be he would pay the prince another visit. Shake up the city once more. Glancing below him, Ezra was surprised to see the world suddenly go from greenery to nothing. The part of him that was Gangrel cried out at the destruction.
Suppressing the need to rage, he pressed on further, higher in the sky, not having need to breath or worry about cold.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Spring - 1980.
Chris leaned against the building, huddling under the ledge from the rain. As the loser of the coin toss, he had been the one chosen to stand outside the club for tickets. Twitching, he began to cough. He had been there for hours, and the San Francisco weather was getting to him. Chris knew it was stupid, but this was Blondie.
Several other people had been in line, but now only three remained. Two under a single umbrella, locals who kept pointing at him and laughing. The third was a man who looked to be almost twice his age. Not that Chris would ever admit to being under age, not even old enough to drive. He hated being fifteen, and the less anyone knew about it, the better.
He would have been comfortable standing under the roof of the back entrance for tickets to one of the hottest acts in the world despite the rain, but the man kept giving him a look that didn't quite sit well with him. The man kept glancing to his neck. Chris was sure he had seen the guys eyes go silver, but that couldn't have been real. Everyone knew that monsters weren't real. Maybe the guy had in some of them contacts he had seen on the tv when he was a kid.
Yeah, that had to be it.
Glancing over his shoulder, he checked out the old man again. Then did a double take. Wasn't the man further back just a second ago? A breath later, the man was standing next to him under the ledge, pulling his jacket up against the cold.
"Dreadful weather this place is having, wouldn't you say," asked the man.
Chris stared at him, his mouth slightly ajar. The stranger had dark hair, almost red in the right light. Then again, it was hard to tell in the dim light of the neon sign above them.
"Hello, my name is Ezra Standish, my friends call me Ezra." Rightly guessing the boy wasn't going to be talking, Ezra scooted in closer. "Is this your first time visiting the lovely city of San Francisco? If so, do not let the weather fool you, this place does have its good days."
This couldn't be happening. Here was what his mother had warned him about when he was a kid, all the man need do was to offer him a piece of candy and that would be it. Glancing down at Ezra's hands, he half expected to see a piece of butterscotch. Instead, they were reaching out for him. Chris jerked back, but was caught in their tight grip.
He was sure this time those silver eyes weren't contacts. Chris felt his body slowly relaxing and the world warming up. Taking a deep breath, he sighed contentedly.
"There, that's better." Ezra slid a hand up the boy's arm to cup his face. "Now, my dear youngen, what is your name?"
"Chris Larabee, sir. My friends call me Cash, as in Johnny Cash on the account that we both wear a lotta black." Smiling, Chris eased himself into Ezra's open arms. "Its been raining for two days, ever since I got here. Ain't seen this place with the sun shinin on it."
"Do not worry, Mr. Larabee, you shall see the sun shining over San Francisco, just not today." The hand stroking Chris' face curled under the boy's chin, making him look up at Ezra's eyes again. "Shall we adjourn from this god forsaken weather and enjoy a pleasant respite?"
Chris felt a moment of resistance to the suggestion causing his face to scrounge in confusion. "But the tickets. We are here to see Blondie, we drove all week to get here before they started selling them. I'm supposed to wait in line."
Ezra placed a hand over Chris' mouth. "Hush, young one, trouble yourself no longer for these tickets, I am well acquainted with the owner of this here establishment. She owes me a few favors, I will be more than happy to obtain these tickets for you if only for the pleasure of your company."
"My mother said not to go anywhere with strangers."
Chuckling, Ezra looked up at the sky. "Mothers are always telling silly musings in order to keep their hold over children. Do not fret, for I am not one of these men your mother need worry about." Wrapping his coat about them both, Ezra gently eased them out into the rain. "Come along, Mr. Larabee, I promise to take great care of you. Whatever is mine shall also be yours. Now that, you can believe."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Summer - 1980.
Chuckling, Ezra sealed the letter and placed it back in the envelope. It hardly felt like three months since he and Chris had been together, but according to the post mark it had. The young man was destined for greatness and Ezra planned on making him fulfill it.
The moment he had caught sight of the young man he wanted him. There had been no taboos in his age, but this was not his time. People here felt it a sin, even made it a crime. However, he wasn't about to allow that to stop him from obtaining his goals. It wasn't love, that wasn't real. What he felt for the man stemmed from pure animalistic desire. The boy was special and that meant he was bound to be great.
As part of the blood bond he initiated between them, Chris would send him periodic letters. This one had told of his adventures with a certain black haired youth. Seems they were enjoying taking on the daughters of the locals. Not that it bothered him one bit one way or the other. Chris would always come if he called to him.
Putting the letter in his brief case, Ezra looked out upon the club. The Haven, the only source of elysium in the city, was packed with kindred of all types. The prince was expecting him to make an appearance tonight. Having been in contact with the club's owner, one Lilly Langtry for the better part of three years, he thought it as good a time as any to introduce himself.
They were giving him strange looks every time he ordered another of the special wines only this club served. From the Luna family winery, the wine was spiked with human blood.
People in punk gear and what appeared to be trash in their hair, gyrated on the floor. He was dressed in a suit that stood out in any century. It was specially designed over two hundred years ago, he rarely wore it. No matter that it was antique right down to the gold and pearl buttons, he preferred to look his best. Silently he noted that it was his Tzimisce training, but it still didn't bother him.
This meeting was of little importance to him personally, but it mattered a great deal to his new agenda. Having decided that it was far past time for a hobby, Ezra decided to see if he could influence the politics of this world. At this time, it was to gain funds from the Camarilla so he could save a small forest in South America. It was the location of the well he had thrown his second childe in. A sort of inside joke, to preserve forever the location of yet another of his failures.
Glancing down at the pocket watch, Ezra drained the last dregs of his wine and put the glass on the table. If the prince didn't show, it was no skin off his back. He'd simply rob the bastard of half his currency through more physical means. Movement among the undead had him looking up.
The prince had entered, twenty minutes late. He didn't look happy.
So long for the easy way.
Ezra slipped the watch back in his blazer pocket. Standing up, he retrieved his brief case and headed for the bar. Once there, he handed over a fifty to Lilly and smiled. "Well, dear beauty, I must bid you adieu. My time has come and gone and the night is over for me."
"Is there anything I can get for you, perhaps another glass of the wine?" She watched him for any tells that he was more than the human he was emitting to be.
Overlooking her stare, he chuckled and lowered his eyes. "I do apologize, but I am not that kind of man. You, quite simply, are the wrong sex. However, if you suddenly find yourself a man, do call me." Grinning, he tipped his hat and headed for the door.
Passing by the Prince, he smacked his brief case in to the man. He quickly reached out and straightened the man, rubbing down his jacket to smooth out any wrinkles. "My apologies, sir, I am terribly sorry."
"Quite all right." He ignored Ezra in favor of scanning the bar. Gesturing at Julian, Archon adjusted his coat. "Find my guest."
"Right away," nodding, Julian disappeared among the crowd.
Ezra watched him go with a sigh. Walking away, he ignored the way the Gangrel body guard glared at him. Just to put on a show, he dropped his brief case. He quickly knelt down and picked it up. Jumping up, he slammed in to another guest, spilling her drink all over. From the stench, she was definitely Brujah. He didn't bother apologizing to her, just pushed passed for the door.
Just as he reached for the handle, a meaty hand grabbed his shoulder. The man forced him to turn and face him. Ezra gave the man a perturbed look, bordering on irate. "Just who do you think you are?"
"You just ruined my lady's dress, now yer gonna pay for it." Cracking his knuckles, the Brujah fixed Ezra with a smirk. "One way or another."
"Might I suggest you go practice your intimidation tactics else where. I have little time for the likes of you." Checking his pocket watch, Ezra blew out a line of breath. "I am already late, so piss off before I get angry." Ezra turned on his heel and grabbed the handle again.
Drawing back, the Brujah growled in anger, his eyes flashing silver. Before he could let loose the punch, an electric surge sent him flying back, his body dissipating in to ash. His dying screams filled the club, distracting with the spectacle.
Ezra used the distraction to slip unnoticed out the front entrance. Smiling, he slipped the billfold from the prince in his jacket pocket. The contents would come in real handy very soon. If anyone had paid attention, they would have noticed his skin ripple as the change came over him. The smiling visage of Julian Luna, prince's enforcer walked down the street hailing for a taxi.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Spring - 1981.
Disappearing down a back alley, Ezra hid on the roof of an adjacent building. The sounds of his pursuers feet hitting the street below made his unbeating heart clench in fear. 'This is what it feels like to be on the other side of a hunt.' And Ezra did not like it one bit.
No matter how many of these damned garou he killed, more of them kept coming after him. They hounded him through the day and night, always tracking him, disturbing his rest. During the time he had tried to merge with the earth, they had summoned him from the ground with a spell. Their magic was stronger than most of his abilities and it was getting more than a little annoying.
They were testing the limits of his resolve and the blood he needed to continue his abilities was running thin. If he didn't feed soon, he would lose control to his beast and frenzy. That is what they were hoping, he realized. With grim determination, he decided that is what he would give them.
Rising in the air, he threw back his head and dispelled the shadows hiding him. The earth trembled as clouds filled the night sky. Lightning arced across the sky, stabbing the ground. All around him, Ezra felt the particles of the air and made them spin.
The garou hunters paused as they caught site of the ancient vampire. The air seemed to shimmer about him, lightning striking the cobble stones beneath him. Suddenly the clouds fell from the sky and a cyclone touched down. As one they flew from the ground, sucked up in the maelstrom. Three hit the street once more only to be crushed under a pyramid of stones.
Others were less fortunate.
Ezra stared down at the gathering garou on the edge of his storm. They were attempting to set up a ritual to bring him down. Rising higher, he gave up the illusion of his human form. Blue cat eyes stared down upon them. He summoned lightning, directing with burning hatred.
The first strike killed the three mages among the Garou. With each flash the energy grew in intensity until the stones beneath their feet exploded in a cloud of dust.
Shaking from the controlled effort, he knew he was expending too much energy. The edges of his vision started to fade. Not caring, Ezra continued to push the limits of his control.
Soon the entire night was so bright that the remaining garou were blind. They scattered, screaming from the brilliance. However, their cries were absorbed in the sonic boom created by the storm.
Feeling the last of his energy drain away, Ezra fell from the sky. And kept falling. It wasn't for a few seconds before he hit the ground. Ezra landed on his back, eyes open. All around his field of vision was a deep pit. Where had stood the ancient mayan city now was a deep crater.
He lay there until the sun rose, unable to move. At sun rise, he felt the sun's rays for the first time in all his long existence. Usually having no effect, what skin was touched ached as if burned. He would have winced had he that much strength. The sun continued to climb over the edge of the crater and soon he would be nothing but a burnt pile of ash.
Surrendering to the inevitable, Ezra waited for the deadly rays to consume him.
Shadows fell across his vision. It took a moment for him to realize what he was seeing. Laughing on the inside, he was amused by misfortune of it all. It was then he heard the voice in his head.
'What are you?'
'Is not my existence obvious?'
'You are leech, however, your abilities are unlike any we have encountered' The werewolf continued to sniff at him. 'You do not smell like any we have encountered. You do not smell of the wyrm.'
'I am my own person.' Ezra sent an amused chuckle at the were's mind. 'Soon I shall be my own pile of ash.'
'Do not concern yourself with that. We have found you intriguing' Bending down, the wolf grabbed Ezra by the jacket collar. Tugging on it, he dragged the ancient out of the light. 'Come, you will be studied'
'Do I have a choice?'
'We can eat you and muse on your anachronism'
'Tug on, my good wolf.'
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Summer - 1981.
Ezra awoke to the feeling of hands covering him, washing his body. Slowly, they dragged sponges over ancient skin. In places, the muscle was massaged by strong fingers. His entire body was slowly cleansed and prepared. After they had washed him, sweet scented oils were rubbed in to his skin.
He thought he was about to lose his sense of smell from their overwhelming scent. After the oils had been thoroughly massaged in, he was left to dry in the airy cavern. He had been asleep for three months, yet aware of the passing of time. It was hard to forget what it felt like when he had been here for almost a thousand years last time.
There was hardly any place left on this planet he had yet to venture to. He heard there was yet another continent he had never been too. Not this Australia people were seeming to grow fond of. He and Maude had been there, pleasant aborigines, however the local less colored population seemed to view him a reminder of their past. That was one place he was glad he no longer had to visit.
It was only after he had done it, that he realized he had the ability to shudder again. He could barely move, but he could at least do a little. Apparently they had given him some blood.
What was left of the fur covering his body began to blow in the breeze signaling it was now dry. Apparently they had taken the time to shave his natural form's hair. He reckoned he appeared to resemble human, if they didn't look too close to his hands, feet, and face.
After what felt like an hour, three men in the ancient form of loin clothes carrying bowls entered the chamber. His eyes followed their movements. They set the bowls on engraved podiums, mixing the contents with a reed brush. Having completed, they grabbed the reed brushes and turned to Ezra.
The first one drew a line of the liquid in a half circle across his pec. He dipped the reed back in the liquid and started sketching connecting lines to it. This action was repeated by the priest on Ezra's other side. The third priest used his reed brush to paint over Ezra's groin area in large swirling patterns.
The liquid, cooling at first, started to harden against his skin. Soon his body was encased in tight bands of paint. It provided no restrictions except for stretching of the skin. He could still move his muscles, he discovered after flexing a pec.
When the last line had been painted on, the men grabbed their bowls and walked out. After they had left, six men and women walked in the chamber. Their hair and bodies decked out in gold leaves.
The oldest looking stepped forward, hand out. "You are the ancient who strikes fear in all who's path you cross."
"That is good, now tell me who you are." Wincing, Ezra tried to force blood through his body, enough to sit up. He failed.
"We have a proposal." She placed her hand upon Ezra's chest, fingers tracing the bands. "You are unaffected by the Kitmakli, you are not under the influence like the others."
"What is it you seek from me? I have you know I am not in the business of making deals with shapeshifters. The last one who tried, double crossed me and I ended up running for my unlife. If you seek to make the same deal, just kill me now I or I promise to show you the same mercy I did his entire tribe." This time, Ezra raised enough of his own will to make his body react. Much to their surprise, he sat up on the altar. "Now which shall it be?"
"We request your help." Moving away, she tried not to tremble. "You have killed many of our enemies, but more still remain. Others of your kind, those tainted by the Other, have sent our enemies after you. They fear you, our enemies fear you, we fear you. However, we are not tainted by the Other. We propose an alliance."
"Sorry, I am not interested." He started to scoot to the edge of the stone slab.
The old woman froze in her place, hand still out. Quivering, she let it fall to her side. "We need you."
"Well, I do not need you. There is nothing you have to offer one such as myself aside from nourishment." Ezra pushed himself to his feet. The cave was lower than he had thought, but he was still able to stand without ducking.
"Then take it." The youngest of the group stepped forward, removing the golden collar from around his neck. Dropping it behind him, he lifted his head and stopped beside Ezra. "If blood is all you seek, then take it in return for protecting us."
Reaching up, Ezra caressed the muscular throat of the young man. He watched the adam's apple bob when the man swallowed. Suddenly, he squeezed his fingers around the warm flesh, choking the man to his knees. His claws digging in, Ezra stared in to the deep brown eyes of the young were. "Your ignorance of my needs is the only reason I am sparing your tribe. I would require more than all your people gathered combined to satisfy my hunger."
"Please, do not kill him. We are only asking, not demanding. We have made no demands." The old woman came to kneel at his side, her hands out beseeching.
Ezra ignored her appeals in favor of holding the young man close to him. "Gift yourselves to me."
"Done!" The men and women behind her tried to protest but she held up her hand. "We are yours."
"The acceptance demands blood." Tightening his grip, he heard the man's heart flutter. "Will you pay?"
"Yes," was all she said before Ezra was on her. Grabbing the old woman by the scruff, he hefted her in the air and bit through the golden collar she wore. She shuddered and cried out for a moment before succumbing to the delirium of the bite.
Ezra dropped the body and wiped his lips. Quickly, his appearance reverted back to his human form. Kneeling down at the woman, he sliced his own hand and pressed it to her lips. After a small amount of his blood passed her lips, he pulled back and licked the wound closed. He stood up and glanced at the weres.
They backed away from him, trying to make it for the door before he could reach them. The young man was on the floor where Ezra had dropped him. He tried reaching out through the coughing fits.
Ezra kicked his arm out of his way. He seemed to blur one moment and then appear before the only exit the next. "Where might you be off to?"
"We will not become your creatures." The next eldest held his ground, trying to appear unafraid.
"Oh, but you misunderstood my intentions." Slinking up to the man, Ezra's eyes twinkled in amusement. "I do not intend to embrace all of you, just her."
There seemed to be a collective sigh from those gathered.
"I have something much better in mind for you."
For More Information, check out the AU Post.