Fic: Beloved Of The God 1/2 M7 AU Xover
Beloved of the God
By: Lopaka Tanu
Disclaimer: I do not own World of Darkness, Kindred: The Embraced, Magnificent 7, and Buffy: The Vampire Slayer.
Warning: Violence, Character death.
Rating: Adult Slash & Het.
Summary: Once, they were known as Oracles, then prophets; later, they were heretics. Now, in the age of science, they call them mad. What do you call a person who really can hear the voice of a god? ________________________________________________________
Summer - 1308 BCE.
The priests fled towards the inner chambers of the oracle, slamming the doors shut, barring them with whatever they could find. Soon a mound of gold and silver, of aged fruits and marble statues stood between them and the barbarian forces. They turned towards the oracle, throwing their hands up, beseeching their god to protect them. When no response came, they prostrated themselves in front of the platform on which the living embodiment of their deity sat.
The oracle continued to ignore their pleas. Even as the doors shook and the walls echoed with cries of the dying did he ignore them.
In a fit of rage and madness, one of the priests rose from the floor. He pulled a dagger from his cloth and strode up the dias to stand before the oracle.
When the oracle opened his eyes, it was for the last time. The dagger pierced his heart and the body slumped over.
All grew quiet in the inner chamber. The loud din from beyond the walls was gone and the doors still. In this calm the priests rose to glance about in fear and relief.
The next moment the pit's flame went out and the oil brazers hanging from the ceiling were blown cold. Shrieks filled the inner chamber from the dying priests as their blood sprayed the walls.
When the doors were finally opened and the inner chamber unblocked, only a single being remained alive. Sitting upon the tripod of the Oracle of Eros was a youth of gilded bronze hair. His blue eyes blinking from sleep, he held out his arms for the first of the invaders. The moment he touched the youth, the man was forever in his thrall.
Neoptolemus knew the rest of his life was forfeit for this youth's whims, but could do nothing about it. So was the price he would pay for his victory this day.
The last of the sword clamoring struck and the final blow dealt. Neoptolemus the brute, son of Achilles, fell under the blade of Apollo's chosen, Orestes. Tears flowing freely, Orestes tried to fight off the god guiding him. He passed through a large curtain in to the inner sanctum. At the final entrance, Orestes fell to his knees and lowered his head. Lifting his hands, he presented his father's sword.
A tanned hand reached out and slid along the iron blade. The strength of the fingers bent the metal in several places. Taking the blade from the supplicant, the Oracle of Eros stared down impassively. "You will return me."
"The temple is gone." Orestes knew the words were the truth as he spoke them. Something inside him guided him to look up. "You are the voice?"
"I am." The Oracle stood from the tripod and headed for the entrance.
"You are now in mine possession." Feeling a hand upon his neck, Orestes closed his eyes and took a shuddering breath. The Oracle was behind him, wrapping his body around the Greek.
Cleitos, the Oracle of Eros, stood in front of the Pythia Trelan, Oracle of Apollo. His offering had been the head of Neimu the tyrant of Acenstia. To their right were twelve other Oracles, to their left another sixteen. Scattered behind them were the other eighteen of their kind. The Fourty-Eight Oracles, the voices of Gods and Goddesses, had been summoned to Delphi by Trelan.
Trelan was the first to speak. Rising from her tripod, she threw back the hood of her cloak. "The world of mortals has begun to change."
"We are aware." Desu, Oracle of Ishtar, cocked her perfectly coifed head, allowing the beads in her hair to jangle. "One does not simply summon the chorus. What are your intentions?"
"Creatures, once separated, are aligned. The darkness settles upon the world and man is caught in the grip. We can no longer summon those of our number across the great waters." Trelan allowed the weight of her words to sink in.
"We have sensed this too." Hethur, Oracle of Hathor, frowned in confusion. "It has been increasingly difficult to speak."
"The words of our Masters are being lost to us." Cleitos' fists clenched at his side. "We must strike back at those who cloud our perceptions!"
"Agreed." Trelan gestured at the room around her. "Since the loss of our home to the Mycenean Hordes, we have scattered to the world. Some, like myself, have destroyed the original holders of places of power and seized them for ourself. Others draw their strength from the faith of their followers."
Hethur drew herself up with pride. "And we are strong."
"Strength does not mean power. With the faiths of others corrupting your followers, you will soon lose even that." Eyes closing in anger, Trelan took a moment to compose herself. "The time for isolation has come to an end. We must join ourselves to these new strengths." Her words fell on deaf ears. "We can not allow what little influence we have to fall to the way side and false Oracles!"
"Who says they are false?" Sydanese, Oracle of Imani, came up from behind Trelan and ran a dark skinned hand down the side of her face. "You talk of power as if it were yours to wield. You have forgotten your place." Her long fingers suddenly tightened around the Pythia's neck and snapped it. "The Oracles were created for us to speak through, not to speak for us. You have abandoned your purpose, believed yourselves above your station." Spinning, she started to assume an attack position only to find a steel blade through her stomach.
Cleitos twisted the sword until he felt the symbiot stop squirming and die. He pulled back the blade and let Sydanese fall to the ground. "Any others who wish to join Imani in the silence, step forward. A god without a voice is just another forgotten one." Kneeling down, he sliced open Trelan's back.
A squirming mass of flesh slid out, using pseudo pods to pull itself along.
Picking up the symbiot, Cleitos stroked it lovingly and walked for the exit. He was followed by fourty-five others.
Standing high above the army on the over looking hill, a lone figure holding a bow gazed unimpressed at the maneuvers. He had seen greater actions from much smaller forces. He assumed their leader was drunken or just plain ignorant. Either way, it did not bode well for the alliance his father had with the high king. Not that that man was impressive either, a drunken brute with one eye.
Hephaestion decided then and there he did not care for the people of Macedon. If they allowed one such as that to rule them then the entire province was doomed to subjugation. It would be best if his father and he traveled further north and prostrated themselves in the hands of the Thracians. At least then he knew death would be swift.
Moving back towards the path he had used to climb the hill, he ignored the cries of the men behind him. Apparently they had finally noticed him. It would be no big thing to dispatch any and all challengers from among their number.
What he didn't count on was the smaller among their number. It wasn't until the rider had dismounted and tackled him from behind that Hephaestion even thought they might actually get close. Rolling to his feet, Hephaestion drew an arrow and notched it. However, whatever plans he had at retaliation were lost when he noticed the men around him with swords drawn. Smirking at their short leader, he continued to aim at him. "Do you think they know how to use those?"
Alexandros didn't respond. He stepped forward until his chest was against the tip of the arrow. They stood eyeing each other. Slowly, he reached out and took the arrow from Hephaestion's hand. With his other hand, he snatched the bow away and handed both off to his men.
"You are either divinely possessed or just plain mad." Hephaestion backed away when Alexandros continued his pace. The hands of his enemy reached up to grab him. "I would not recommend that, boy."
The word incensed Alexandros and he grabbed Hephaestion by both arms. The feeling was almost instant and Alexandros' body trembled in pleasure. Staring the other teenager down, he pushed him to his knees. "All will submit to me. You shall be my first."
Balling his hand in to a fist, Hephaestion slammed it up under the youth's chiton.
The reaction was instant and Alexandros was down, gasping for breath.
Standing, Hephaestion kicked the kid again and pushed his way passed the stunned men. 'Sheep, everyone of them', he thought.
Hephaestion grunted with disgust as Alexandros' seed ran down his leg. The man child was disgusting, obnoxious, and a rutting boar hound in heat. Ever since their first encounter, the other had made every effort to take Hephaestion in the most embarrassing locations. This time they were against the wall of Alexandros' father's home. Apparently the ugly brute of a king was the little twerp's father!
And Alexandros used that leverage for all it was worth.
With a quick feel to check for tears, he lowered the edge of his own chiton and set to walking, very carefully. The little monster was extremely good at opening him like a bore's tusk. Hephaestion was just about to turn the corner when he felt Alexandros' hand slide up his inner thigh. Whatever thoughts he possessed were sapped out with the touch of his own demon.
Hephaestion turned on his side to watch his lover adjusting the crown that sat upon his head. "If you are not careful, Aphrodite shall smite you for your vanity."
"Then she would have to deal with my father, her king." Alexandros tilted his head so he could look upon himself once more. Standing naked in front of the mirror, he adjusted himself and struck the pose of the great Atlas. "My mother wishes me to take a wife."
Narrowing his eyes, Hephaestion drew back the bed clothes. "If she were so inclined, I would bare your offspring. That woman's wish for a secure dynasty is beyond tolerable."
"My mother wishes that I have an heir to secure my future and claim to the throne." Turning around, Alexandros flexed his muscles again. This time, he thrust forwards his hips and waved his erection at Hephaestion. "I deal with my mother. I bend to no one."
"Then deal with it." Rising from the bed, Hephaestion let the clothes slip from around his waist. "Until then, I shall be in my own rooms."
Alexandros watched his lover go with suspicious eyes. "When did you receive that scar?"
"What scar?" Hephaestion only paused long enough to send a glare over his shoulder.
"The one along your back. I have never seen it before." Breaking his posing, he stalked towards the retreating man. "Tell me."
Hephaestion ran a finger down his back, stopping at the ridged skin. Frowning in confusion, he traced it a couple times. "I do not know."
Reaching his lover, Alexandros grabbed him around the waist and pulled him close. His own fingers rubbed the scar in soothing circles. "Does it bother you?"
Smirking, Hephaestion shook his head. The touch of his lover was still as addicting as it was six years ago. "No, but continue this and I might have something else you can help with."
Hephaestion sat upon the throne of his beloved King. It was the last such chance he would ever have. Tonight Alexandros laid with his new wife, at the behest of his mother. That old witch had finally sunk her claws in deep enough and pierced the thick hide of her son. Sitting back straight, head held high, he listened to the many bawdy chants the men sang in favor to their king.
Having had enough, he waited for a moment when they were so caught up they would miss his exit, Hephaestion walked out. The palace was poorly lit tonight as most of the guests and slaves were in the main halls or the adjacent chambers fucking each other. This entire business sickened him, he was a General, not a Courtier.
So caught up in his own ruminations, he did not realize he had traveled to the chamber he and Alexandros had shared up til this very morning. Standing outside the door, hand on the latch, he caught the unmistakable sounds of people caught up in sexual ardor. The noise froze him straight to his heart.
The loss of its physical beating caused him to gasp and clutch his chest. Hephaestion pounded his chest, gasping for breath. Sinking to his knees, he continued to pound at the lifeless organ. As the blood in his veins started to run cold, his heart gave a painful lurch. He cried out from the blood pumping painfully through his veins once more.
By now he was on his back, eyes wide open and unseeing. On the edge of the cold blackness that was his world, he heard calm whispering. He tried to reach out for whoever was there, but discovered it was intangible. "Who is speaking?"
Warm, orange light filtered down upon the darkness. Heat replaced the cold and his body felt on fire. Pleasure so grand that it forced him to scream came upon him. Suddenly he was no longer in the hall but upon a bed of soft pillows. The light was gone, but the shadows were still visible.
Above him he could make out the figure of a man. The shape distorted, changing to incorporate something larger. It took him a moment to recognize wings. Knowledge filled him, he understood what was happening.
He had awakened.
Coming to himself on the floor outside Alexandros' bed chamber, he curled over himself and climbed to his feet. The dawn had risen outside and the revelers gone. Inside the bed chamber he could hear the stillness of an exhausted sleep. Strangely, it no longer hurt. He was part of something greater, the voice of someone grander than his Alexandros.
Climbing to his feet, he reached out for the handle of the door once more. He glanced inside to see Alexandros on the far side of their marriage couch reaching out for something that was not his wife. His wife was curled around the pillows. A vicious moment of spite clouded his thoughts. "May you die forever searching, for you will never have me again."
Closing the door, Hephaestion turned and walked away.
Hephaestion glanced upon the wrestlers with disdain. The games to signify their victory were little more than drunken debauchery. Not even the athletes themselves were fit enough to stand from their inebriation. For a celebration for the gods, it was a piss poor spectacle. Having had enough, he started to climb to his feet. As he rose, he grew dizzy and fell back to his seat.
The men around him exploded in to laughter.
It would be funny, had he partaken of the libations. However, he had had no drink. Floundering wide eyed, he gripped the side of his couch. His face contorted in fear as he slipped to the floor and a full body convulsion took him.
Their laughter stopped.
He bit his tongue from a powerful seizure and blood spilled from his mouth. His body arched from the floor and he cried out in pain. His cry turned into a shriek. Another tremor slammed his head back against the floor and he went silent.
Hephaestion took his last breath as the symbiot pulled its way from his body. Attending him was a priest named Versu and his Physician. The priest gathered the symbiot to him and quickly disappeared from the bed chamber.
Vineceus Tanner adjusted the felt hat over his head and tightened his hand made belt. The hat was three times too large, but he would grow in to it, so his uncle said. There were many things about this world he had yet to experience. Following along, the twelve year-old picked up the hem of his slacks to keep from falling over them.
He was going to grow up and be a leather huntsman just like his father and his uncles. They were the latest in a long line of huntsmen.
His father had died the previous spring in an accident with a wolf that wouldn't die. Eventually, his uncles and grand father had killed it by cutting off the head. When they had done that, it reverted to a human form. They buried it and never discovered who it was, but some whispered that the local lord was still missing. Who knew, not like they were gonna tell.
Ganilla Tanner glanced out the window of her whore house and spat upon the passing priests. They always came the same time every day, cursing the sinners and her girls. Today was no difference. In fact, she had come to rely upon their persistence. Glancing at the girl in the window across the street, she nodded. The girl reflected the sun in a mirror to the roof of her building.
The next instant a rain of shit and piss came pouring down upon the priests and their fellow parishioners. Shrieks and screams filled the streets as they scrambled about trying to shake the offal from their bodies.
Laughing, Ganilla waved at the Arch Bishop before closing the window. She turned back to face the gathered people in her study. "My dearest and fair, tis past time our house change location. Alexandria beckons and we shall answer!"
Ahdavin Tanner tightened the burka around his face to disguise the fact he was a he. The foreigners had been hunting down defectors from their ships while he had been aiding them in hopes of disrupting them. Last night he had been betrayed by one of the people he had aided after the fool got drunk and was caught. There was a reason Allah frowned upon drinking. Now he was on the run for his life yet again.
His aid, Dhuji Tanner, was pretending to be his husband, no mean feat for a woman of ample bosom. Several times they had almost been caught by him laughing at her acting abilities. She had stuck a pistol down the front of her pants to appear as a man, and it kept getting stuck in the most interesting of places.
They had booked passage out of Alexandria on a Spaniard merchant ship bound for the new world. Their only problem was getting to it in the world's largest city. Adjusting his sack breasts, he picked up the sack of their possessions and followed Dhuji in to the market place.
As they passed market stalls down ancient streets, he marked how much had changed since he was here last during the founding of the city. Perhaps one day he would find a chance to come back and explore a little more.
Eighteen year old Creegan Tanner adjusted his arm in the make shift sling. He tried not to wince when Fire Dancer tied a knot in the material around his neck. It would be another three weeks before he could use the arm properly again.
Being the last of his regiment, wounded and without food in the middle of the wilderness, he had thought of eating a bullet. Then Fire Dancer and the remainder of her tribe had come along. They had been interested only in the weapons and other useful stuff they could take from the bodies. Yet, with a quick wink and flash of skin he had entranced their leader in to allowing him to live.
Of course, his ass still hurt from making it up to White Rabbit. The young brave was the eldest son of the former chieftain, so now he was in charge. Fire Dancer was his sister, and the one Creegan wanted. She only wanted a child, he wanted a relief from the itch, they had a mutual understanding. This had led him to hurting his arm again.
Fire Dancer gripped Sparrow's hand one last time as her son was born. The berthing had lasted for two days and she was on the edge of collapse. None in their tribe could understand why the pregnancy had lasted an entire moon longer than normal or why she had such trouble. She was of the prime age and perfect shape, she should have had no trouble.
When the saw the blue eyes of the babe glanced back at them, uncrying and curious, it was taken for a sure sign they were being watched over by Corn Woman. This child was special.
Fire Dancer cried out from the pain in her side. She had been carrying Vin for three days to reach the mission at the town of Four Corners. The last of her tribe, there was little she could do to raise the child on her own. This morning the town had come in to sight and she had pushed onwards.
It didn't occur to her that her wounds had reopened. All she knew was that she had to reach the mission and Sister Sanchez.
Walking through the heart of town, she drew stares and derisive comments. They all knew about the savages and their evil ways. That one would dare come through their town was an affront to their good dignity.
A wave of dizziness made her trip and fall to the ground. Her arms grew too weak to hold on to Vin and he slipped from her grasp. She tried to stand, but fell once more. When she opened her teary eyes, she saw a black man holding her son. Reaching out, she touched Vin's cheek. "Be good for him, Vin." She handed Nathan a rabbit skin of her belongings. "Please, take care of him. He needs you."
Nathan stared at the skin in shock, then to the silent boy. He was about to speak when the sack dropped and Fire Dancer died.
Vin clamped a hand on Nathan's nose and squeezed it. Giggling, he wrapped his arms around the black man and held on tight. "Papa!"
Vin stared down at the telegram in shock. It couldn't be. The Tanners were real and they were wanting him in San Francisco. That couldn't be right. He had been looking for them for a long time, but found no sign they were real aside from a promise Creegan had left his Ma. It wasn't unheard of for soldiers during the war to change their names to avoid one thing or another.
"Well, what does it say? Good news?" Nathan tried to make his voice sound happy for Vin, but it came out all wrong. They both knew it wasn't going to end happy for them either way.
The small town of Four Corners had grown with the finding of silver and then stayed that way when the train had come. They were standing in the Post Master General's office. After the trains had come, the governor had given Shiloh his own building. Whipping down the counter, Shiloh Streung gave Vin a smile. "Your Pa sent money for a ticket too."
"How could he... Oh, you mean Tanner." Vin glanced over the counter trying to catch sight of a piece of paper or ticket. He'd never seen one before, but heard them described. "Where is it?"
"At the local bank. Ole Mr. Watson is going to pay for your ticket, seems your folks got an account in his bank." Ignoring Nathan's angered look, Shiloh leaned over the counter to smile at the teenager. "Think about it, son, you're finally goin home!"
Smiling, Vin turned to Nathan. "They actually want me, Nathan!"
Vin glanced over at his Pa and frowned. He had wondered why they had continued south west for ten days, now he got his answer. They were heading to California. "I told you, I ain't gonna see them!"
"Vin, you're old enough to know where you came from. I ain't got time to baby sit you anymore, I got a family of my own!" Nathan knew it was bad idea, but he had to make the boy leave on his own or he likely never would. They had had a good run of it, but Vin was grown up now and it was time to let him go.
"So that's it? You're obligation is done now you're just gonna send me off to fend for myself among a group of strangers?" Taking the reins of his horse, he turned around to head back the way they had come. "I'm not going!"
"That's fine, but I am. My family is there, so be as stubborn a mule you want." Nathan waited for Vin to come back and confront him again. However, unlike previous times, the response never came. Glancing over his shoulder he was shocked. Vin was no where to be seen. "Vin!"
Vin road in to San Francisco decked out fully in his Indian Trapper gear. His face slightly dusky from days of not shaving. His Indian heritage meant it was less time between shavings. The locals gave him looks of disgust and held their nose as he passed. He would never understand these city folk. Who needed this so called civilization?
Stopping Peso in front of a saloon, he was met with the glares of three men sitting on the porch. Ignoring them, he dismounted and tied off the gelding. People continued to stare as he climbed the stairs and entered the saloon.
Big Tex nodded to John Sunder. Walking in behind the Indian boy, he cocked the hammer on his colt. The Indian had stopped in front of the bar and the guests had cleared a spot for him, giving it a wide berth. "Savage, I'm only gonna tell you this once, you're breakin the law by comin here."
"Who are you talking about, Little Tex?" Standing at the top of her staircase, Lilly Langtry, wrapped her fingers around the silk and ebony fan. She dragged it down the banister beside her while she descended. Smiling perfect white teeth at the deputy, she knew her jibes always struck harder than others. "The only savage I see here is you. I thought I warned you about coming in here, guns bared."
"Ms. Langtry, this red skin here knows the laws, yet it came in. I'm only doing my duty." He gritted his teeth at her predatory gaze. "Ma'am."
Walking to stand beside Vin, Lilly used her fan to turn his face to stare at her. "My, those are the prettiest Blue eyes I've seen on a savage."
"Blue eyes?" Big Tex stared in shock as Vin glanced at him. "I'm sorry, thought you was one of them Injuns! I'll leave you to your business." Nodding at Lilly, Big Tex turned and walked out.
Ignoring the retreating lug, Lilly stared deeply in to Vin's eyes trying to capture his will. When he only blinked, her smile grew. "So, you are more than you appear, Indian."
Downing a shot of whiskey, Vin raised an eyebrow. "I thought you said I wasn't a savage."
"I said nothing of the sort. I simply stated you had Blue eyes. Little Tex is simply too stupid to realize even Indians can have Blue eyes." Running a hand through her curls, Lilly sat down on the bar stool. "It's not every day one of your people come walking through my door."
"It's not everyday I feel the need to make a fool out of myself. May be today I will make an exception for you." Setting his shot glass down on the bar, he grinned at Lilly. "My name is Vin Tanner, what might yours be?"
Lilly's eyes flashed silver at the name. "Tanner? You wouldn't happen to be related to the Tanner Clan, would you?"
"Unfortunately, I might be." Grabbing his bag, he pulled out a silver dollar and dropped it on the bar top. "Keep the change." He was about to smile at Lilly again when he felt someone stick a finger through his breeches. Turning around to knock the hell out of whoever it was, he froze at the sight of the auburn haired man. The man was the prettiest whore he'd ever seen.
Vin screamed. Writhing in pain, he clawed at his back, trying to pull it out. Whatever it was had crawled up on him while he slept and was now burrowing its way inside him. He felt the last bit of it slip inside him and he slipped in to a blind panic. Grasping his knife, he jabbed it at his back to cut it out.
Six pairs of large hands grabbed him and forced him to lay flat on his stomach. He struggled, screaming incoherently for them to get it out of him. Much to his horror, they only eased the skin closed and began sewing him shut.
After they had tied off the last stitch, they released him and stood back. He slapped at the wound, but found his arms growing heavy. His body started to weaken and his mind went blank.
Suddenly he became aware of whispering on the periphery of his hearing. He tried to strain his ears, but found he couldn't hear them clearly. "Help me!"
Strong arms enveloped him, pulling him close. Large wings wrapped around them. The soft feathers tickled Vin's body. He felt completely safe in this person's arms. In a soft trickle, the memories came back to him, the knowledge of his past filled all the blanks. "Eros."
The being tightened the hold around him in acknowledgement.
Laying his head back, Vin allowed himself to relax in the ever unchanging arms.
"We are always together."
"Always."
The Tanners watched Vin slowly float back down to the Earth. They felt the shift of air as the presence of their creator disappeared. It was not the first time for many of them, for others it would be their last.
Awakening, Vin Tanner glanced about him. He recognized the armored figures and knew their cause. This was what he had been created for, this was his new calling.
Salousa Tanner drove the hilt of her blade through the heart of the Khalid. This was the latest in a long line of enemies that had been trying to hunt her kind to extinction. They would not succeed, and with each battle her clan grew more blood thirsty.
Griffin Tanner swung the rapier blade removing the head of yet another Skilosh Demon. Their kind had tried to take back southern California from the humans and Kindred. The Tanners had been brought in on contract to eradicate them.
Griffin lasted another day before he was killed by friendly fire.
What remained of the once numerous clan Tanner now met in a single room. Their numbers had been depleted to just a hand full and it was time to make a decision.
Eros had called his people home.
With a shared look, they joined hands.
The circle of ash on the floor was all that remained of the once powerful clan.
The chanting of the monks increased as the flames of the sacrificial pyre grew. A flash of light exploded over the fire blowing it out. In the remains knelt a man clothed in embroidered gold cloth. To say that his appearance was disappointing was an understatement.
Rommel glared at the monks and their helpers. He had been promised a weapon of unimaginable power and instead had gotten a man. To make matters worse, the man was dressed much like the disgusting Bedoens that littered the streets of this supposed dark continent. Turning back to look at the man, he found the person missing. "Where did he go?"
He glanced back to the monks only to find them dead. Rommel cared little for dignity as he fled from the temple. If the SS wanted their perfect weapon, they could get it their damned selves.
The plane touched down amid a flurry of military actions. They were bringing what was believed to be the American equivalent of the Enigma Code Machine to the South Pacific. Many men from all branches of the service were there to see this marvel.
What they got was a shock to say the least.
Descending the exit ramp of the plane, Vin glanced about the men in uniforms and snorted. Nothing had changed. Turning from the generals, he and the other code talkers walked away. If they wanted to talk to them, they would have to do it on their time.
His braids caught in the strong winds from the plane's engines. With little interest, he watched it take off. It had another base to travel to before they let it rest. He understood how it felt.
Glancing over his shoulder, he decided it was probably best to get this over with. "Howdy. My name is Vin Tanner, and I am your translator."
Vin sat with two other code talkers reminiscing about the old days before the war. For him, most of it was new. That he was only half Indian didn't bother them. That he was any Indian was the reason they were talking to him. That he understood their words was why they were talking nicely.
"These white men think they rule the world and intend to prove it to the Japanese." Joe White Wolf took a sip of his moon shine and laughed. "The Japanese think it is their god given right to control the Pacific and believe the Americans lack honor. Shows how much they know. Neither of them had honor to begin with! Ha!"
"Honor, such a white man custom. Nothing but horse shit. Sure, it burns good, but you wouldn't want to live with it." Ray Running Brave chugged the beer he held. When it was empty, he slapped it down on the table. "Waiter, bring me another," was the only English he spoke all night. "Tell me, Vin, what brings you to the arm pit of the world?"
"I was recruited by the U.S. Military after they captured me in Morocco. I was hunting down and killing Nazi spies. It was either this or resting in a holding cell until they decided I wasn't a threat. The threat implied that I could be considered a threat for a very long time." Taking a small drink, he wiped his mouth. "When they heard me speaking to another of the people during basic, I ended up switched to the unit. The rest is history."
Nodding in understanding, Ray snorted. "They got me for speeding down a Reservation road. Apparently I had been doing it for a while and it was either this or jail. White men's jail."
Vin snorted. "Good choice. What about you Joe?"
"I joined up because I wanted to serve my country." His straight face lasted all of three seconds while the other two broke out in to giggles. "My father is in the marines, he figured it was best I learn just like him. Before I knew what was happening, I was bald and shivering my ass off on a transport plane bound for the south Pacific." Contemplating his moonshine, Joe frowned. "Then again, it also could have something to do with me being in bed with the Governor's daughter during an election year."
Both Ray and Vin were over the table, trying hard to breathe through the laughter.
Vin braced himself as another blast struck the base. The radio crackled with static and the screams of dying soldiers. Switching frequencies, Vin began relaying the code pattern for retreat. The island had come under attack the Generals ordered the men to fall back to their bases. Another round blew the power grid of the base and the radio went dead.
Spinning around, Vin jumped from his chair and rushed to the emergency generator. After pulling out the choke, he jerked the jumper cord. The generator sputtered once. He pulled the cord again. This time it sputtered twice before dying. With all his strength, he pulled the cord a third time and it came to life. He switched the power grid over for the generator and the equipment came back on line.
Rushing to his chair, he grabbed the mic and began shouting the order again. After he repeated it three times, he waited for a response. Nothing happened. He pressed the button and called out for a response from his men. Still no sound.
Checking his equipment, he began speaking. The receiver showed full charge, but the gage on sending was a zero. He tapped it twice and found it still working. Vin followed the wires of his mic to the radio. It was still together.
After checking over the power cords, he decided the problem had to be internal. He turned it around and unscrewed the back. Trying to recall the proper arrangement of wires, he quickly traced them through the air with his finger. He frowned at the transmitter wire, or lack there of.
What remained of the wire were only sodderings. Rushing over to the tool box in the corner of the radio shack he pulled out a pair of pliers and radio wires. He quickly set to twisting the wire around the leads and connecting it to the transmitter. When he finished, he turned the radio around and grabbed the mic.
"This is base one, to all men in the field. General orders of retreat, sound a full retreat. Fall back to launching points Alpha!" After he finished the last word the radio shorted out and exploded in a shower of sparks. Twisting it back around, he noticed the wire had over heated and burned out the leads. Cursing, he slammed his fist down on the table.
He could only hope the signal got out before it died. Another mortar round shook the shack and the lights dimmed. The gun shots drew closer. His men were pulling back.
"Yes!" Vin jumped up in victory.
Another round struck the base camp. The radio shack was destroyed.
Dierdrie Wilmington stood outside the market bumming cigarettes from the old men who stood for their smoke break. Among them was a certain blue eyed, silver haired man who wore his hair in braids. She was intrigued with him from the moment she had arrived in Blackburn. There was just something about him that screamed strength, and in her current situation that was all she wanted.
Waiting until his back was turned, she walked up behind him and traced a hand up his back to let it rest on his shoulder. "Hey, Mister, got a light?"
"Little girl, I'm old enough to be your grand father." Removing her hand, he tossed away his cigarette and turned back to the market. "I've got work to do."
"I don't mind. I like a little experience in my men." Giving him what she hoped was an enticing look, she unzipped her bomber's jacket.
Despite himself, Vin gave her a peek. "If you're still around, may be later." With that he walked back inside. He had a game of chess to beat that upstart Crowly at.
Vin wondered how the hell he ended up in this situation. What had he been thinking? He was sixty-three years old for pete's sake! Feeling every bit his age, he held his new son and wondered once again why he ever took in that vixen.
Ailing Vin smiled at his son one last time, before closing his eyes. The coughing fit hit him so bad he felt something inside give. Laying back, the air passed from him.
Una Recosa, formerly Deborah Liddal, self proclaimed high priestess of Eros, lifted her heavy bulk from the cushions. Seven months pregnant, she was excluded from the rest of the group. The others had strictly forbidden her from joining their rituals because of a possible demon infestation of her baby. What she had tried telling Ripper, her boy friend, and the others was that the baby wasn't his. Hell, it wasn't even hers.
However, they wouldn't hear it. It was pretty far fetched for even her own imagination, even on acid.
The baby was put inside her by the god she worshiped. It would one day be his voice to the world. And she would be the mother of the new Messiah.
"I ain't no bloody virgin, I can tell you that, baby Frodo!"
Sucking on the end of a crack pipe, Una tried to dispell the pain in her abdomen from the contractions. She had heard it was bad, but this was ridiculous. After ten fucking months of pregnancy, it was about damned time too. Luckily Ethan had brought her a stash before their Erelong shit last night. Just fucking like the group to summon some powerful shit while she was pregnant and not able to experience it. But after today she could go back to the group. Frodo would just have to learn to get along without her for a while.
She didn't see the six figures in white enter the room of her flat. The first thing her stoned mind registered was pain not related to contractions. She opened her eyes, screaming, to see a silver dagger tip cutting open her belly. "Oh god, you fucker! Get the fuck away from me!"
Durista back handed the insolent whore. That one such as this would carry the rebirth of their Oracle was beyond tolerable. She only had a few moments left any ways.
Obrina Kincaid sliced another organ open searching for the birth sack. These Humans were too damned complex for their own good. She ignored Una's screams in favor of cutting open another organ. He had to be in there some where. Finally, she cut open a purple, contracting organ and found the prize she had been searching for. "Success."
"Excellent. Wrap him up and I will deal with this whore." Durista slammed Una's head against the floor until she saw gray matter. "Surprise, surprise, apparently the drugged out slut still had some brain cells."
"Due only in fact to the regenerative abilities of Tanner. Remove the symbiot and bring it with us." Lunima, the elder, took Vin from Obrina and walked out of the one room flat.
Obrina glared at her mother, but complied with the old woman's orders. The slug shaped symbiot made her queasy, but it was necessary. If they were to talk once again with the god, they needed it.
Vin glanced over his shoulder at Jesse Kincaid. They were best friends and brothers. It didn't matter that Vin was born of another species to Jesse and that was what was important to Vin. His family were all Rel. At times he wondered why he was born host, but that was not for him to know. He wasn't old enough yet.
The pain of becoming the Oracle had been immense, however the knowledge and self discovery were greater. Becoming Vin Tanner was probably the hardest thing of his short life. That it was necessary at such an early age made it that much worse for him.
Sitting in front of the elders of the Rel would have made pre-Tanner Vin nervous. Now, it just made him feel his age. Or the age of the symbiot to be more precise. Not that there was a difference anymore, but the current incarnation of himself was just so young.
Fifteen times he had been the chosen host for the Oracle. Each time his genetics had been merged with that of a new race of Humans. He was the perfect amalgamation of every race that existed over the past three thousand years. From African to Australian, from Asian to American, each of the races that had evolved separately held roots in his genetics.
Before and after him there had been hundreds of others, each of mixed heritage. They each combined their DNA in to children to create a genetic hybrid with immunities and abilities only inherent in other races. It created a host that could understand the plight of the many. It created an Oracle.
This was being explained to him by the Rel elders, yet it was something he knew intimately thanks to their merging. Eros had recreated him in this form twice for it was the last of races to mix their genetics with the Tanners. There was simply no other ethnic race left on the planet. Perhaps in another thousand years he would be called upon to mate again.
The white skinned, twin horned beings blinked whitening eyes at the young man. They knew he was becoming bored, but the traditions must be kept. When a child becomes an adult, they must learn the histories. It was part of the tradition and necessary for the survival of all.
Vin sat forward and placed his hands on his knees. Ignoring the looks they gave him, he waved a hand to get their attention. "Look, I already know all this. You don't have to go on and on."
Stunned silence greeted his outbursts.
Smiling cheekily at them, Vin stood up. "Well, I reckon I best be on my way. It was nice of ya'll to take care of me, but I have work that needs to be done."
They sat there blinking in confusion as he walked out of the cave of ancients.