Shadowstalker wrote:Glad to hear you are fine, and as Bert said what happened next, and do we still have to deal with Azrael?

“Fine” being . . . a relative term.

Ron Caliburn wrote:I wish I was back in DC to keep tabs on all of this.

Somehow, I’m not entirely certain about the tone meant behind that statement . . . .

I’ve never been skydiving before. So falling off the top of a building was a new experience for me. The ground was a rough cushion for my fall; jagged edges of the sidewalk kneaded into my back like the knuckles of a masseuse’s hands. To consistently disobey nature, to survive actions that would kill an ordinary woman without even feeling the pain; it’s a sensation difficult to describe to vulnerable mortals.

Best not to try to find the time to describe it; especially since Azrael had jumped down after me. I could see the glowing blade of amber being directed right between my eyes, Azrael following through the attack with a deadly pile drive, both hands clasped about the hilt, arms raised overhead so he could use the full momentum of the incredible fall and his awesome strength.

There has recently been a thread about those moments experienced where time seems to stand still. I have had a few, and with my keener senses, time always seems to move slowly for me anyway. But never have I had an experience of the sort as drastic as this episode, watching Azrael literally bearing down on me from the heavens. It was surreal; time lengthened perceptibly and became as tangible as the mists of London. I could see the triangular tip of Deathkiss glimmer with its mystic glow; the strain of Azrael’s toned muscles beneath his antique vestment; the contrast of his impassive face and the fevered intensity of his eyes.

And just like that, time snapped back into motion. Azrael’s booted feet hammered at my sides; Deathkiss came down like a bolt of thunder. I clapped my hands together, catching the flat of the blade between my palms. The blade stopped inches from my throat; Azrael strained to complete the blow, but my palms adhered to the blade with relentless force. The man’s muscles tensed with his effort to impale me; the veins at his neck were revealed in sharp contrast as the blood rushed to his face. He bent his entire weight behind the attack. The expression to his face remained absent, save for the fervent heat behind the flinty storm clouds that were his narrowed eyes. But the blade did not move.

I was the stronger of us two.

A shove of my left wrist bent the angle of the blade away, and the vibrant point skewered the ground. Azrael sank nearly to his knees before he could reverse the pressure. But by then I was shoving myself up by my right hand, grasping his sword wrist with my left hand and kicking out with both feet, smashing into his temple. The immortal shuddered with the strike, but was secured into position by the imbedded blade and my hand over his. For the briefest of instances I had him. He took the pain caused by my hits stoically, focusing on wrenching the sword free. But it wouldn’t budge, and his half-hearted attempts at parrying me failed. I countered a jab to my eyes and returned it with a palm strike to the side of his head. I leaped over a sweeping foot to trip me and smote him behind the ear with the heel of my foot.

But Azrael had not survived the centuries by being inflexible and slow. He grabbed my leg even as he staggered and hurled me across the alley. I crashed into the wall and pounced to my feet; he had pulled his weapon free and was charging me once more. A roundoff carried me free of his first swing, but a backhand to my cheek sent me across the alley in a disoriented pile; the flak vest skidded dully against the cement and gravel, flaying apart with the supernatural beating it was taking. I rolled to my feet, shaking my head quickly and plying my senses for my foe.

Azrael was coming through the alley slowly, Deathkiss held protectively before him; we had learned to respect each other’s abilities in short order. I cautiously fell into my Taekwondo stance; he continued to approach, weighing his next attack carefully even as I weighed in mine.

This time I saw his feint coming. He shifted quickly ahead and to the left as though preparing to come at me from a diagonal angle, widening the room for a wide swing. But dropping to his knee so quickly for a moment I lost sight of him completely, he started his attack at nearly pointblank range. But instinct saved me, and I pounced back with the speed of a twinkling even as the blade came up in a deceptively low strike, an arcing stab he had hoped to finish by driving the sword up my navel and through my heart. The miss was so miniscule I felt the heat of the sword’s magic wave my clothing underneath and tickle my skin with static. The flack vest front was shorn completely in half; he twisted Deathkiss in an effort to cut off my arm at the shoulder, but managed only to nick my skin. I shoved him aside and let loose a shin kick.

He retreated a step fitfully, his pace limping for the first few steps as he thought out a new attack pattern. That came a moment later, his blade flashing through a complicated web of thrusts, feints, and maneuvers. But outside the confines of the alley, I was able to utilize my agility to its full potency. We exchanged blows with the rapid-fire intensity of a strafing Gatling gun. But the speed of our attacks proved too much for the both of us. I parried the flat of his blade on my wrist; he swept aside my kick with his elbow; I dodged a chop for my head; my knuckle punch grazed his shoulder; and then luck finally seemed on my side. His lunge turned his back to me, only inches away. Acting on swift instinct, I shrugged free of the tattered flack vest and brought it over his head, wrapping it about his throat and bodily hurtling him over my shoulder in a motion designed to snap his neck.

“Whoo-hoo!” a voice hollered out. “Your shirt next, babe! Take it all off, honey!”

I started at the unexpected encouragement. My foe, struggling impossibly to his hands and knees, was staring, too. Suddenly, I realized why the battlefield had been so open. We were fighting on the sidewalk. The fight must have taken us clear across the other side of the alley. A small knot of people had gathered to watch the spectacle of our fight, crowding in so close I could see their individual faces in the streetlight’s glare.

And they were applauding.

And I wondered how Azrael would take it.

Hahaha! Awesome! I'm glad something I gave you finally became useful

Got to replace that vest soon I think.

Yeah. I had Ben save that anti-knife chest armor for her, and I can provide another Flak Vest.

I think I can honestly say that I never expected to admit to being relieved to hearing that a vampire was still around and kicking.

Good job, Celeste. Glad to hear you're still with us.

Azrael won't be around for much longer I can tell you that. I haven't caught up with Cee yet, but at least I know where she is now. I heading to meet her.

I had to stop off and get some answers from "Lucy" first. He refused to talk to me and began shutting the door, I rectified that with a swift kick and the door hitting his face so hard it broke his nose. Lil' goth punk, it took me almost an hour to get Cee's location out of him. The arm will heal clean, Im not to sure about the broken fingers though.

So here I am, stalking the mean streets of D.C. trying to find Celeste, hoping all the while I run into Azrael, and dodging you guys who have been tailing me from the moment I got back to D.C.

At first I thought it was Bert, it sort of looked like Bert, then an hour later it was KT, but wearing Bert's trenchcoat, 40 minutes later I have Ron tailing me, in the same damn clothes. What the hell gives guys, you don't trust me anymore? You have to follow me round like Im the badguy here. What really pisses me off is that Shadowstalker was even tailing me up until an hour ago when I lost him in the subway.

I'll give you guys credit, your good, but your tailing skills need a hell of alot of work.

I report back once I find Cee, so stop following me already!

I know what the hell you look like Ron. You were frickin tailing me for almost an hour. It had to be you. And I know the others were involved, who else would be tailing me round D.C. Your evil twin, I doubt it. Then if you weren't tailing me, who was?

Ben, had I been tailing you around D.C. you'd have never have lost me.

Ben's a loose cannon but not typically this bad. (AFAIK anyhow.) Think something unnatural has got his dander up? Something using him to find Cee?

You don't suppose that Khavik is using Ben to track down Celeste do you?

Bullshit. He can and will get possessed, hoodwinked, manipulated, and brainwashed at any and every opportunity. It says so in his contract.

I WAS NEVER POSSESSED!!!!!!!!

I was brainwashed. TW TOTALLY DIFFERENT FRICKIN' THINGS!!!!

And I know what I saw! I saw each of you guys warin' black old trenchcoats following me around since I got here.

The next one of you to make a crack comment can eat shit and die for all I care! I aint being duped or manipulated, Im looking for Cee cause I lov...care about her damn it.

As for that lil' goth punk piece of shit, he can kiss my ass. That lil' horse turd deserved some sense beat into him.

So Im a lil' pissed off right now. You didn't see what that SOB Azrael did to my Cee. He damn near cut her in half!

If I find him, I'll be sure to return the favor!!!

In the mean time, then who the hell is going round D.C. and following me. Is it Asshole? It sure as shit ain't Khavik thats for sure. I know what that SOB looks like, these guys were you guys, or damn close imposters.

So who the hell is still in D.C.?

Don't even remind me. I haven't been back to Jersey in a fucking age.


Besides, I don't wear black trench coats. Everyone says Brown is my color

Holister wrote:So who the hell is still in D.C.?

By my math: You, the vampire and the immortal.

So who the hell's been tailing me.....DAMN IT! It has to be that Shadowbuilder thing. I knew I should have killed it last time I was here, or at least I would have thought someone else killed that thing by now....I gotta get to Cee.

Ben, I have an idea as to how to kill it:

Rig, oh, as many Flashbangs as you can to a single switch (say 20 or 30 gross). Bait the trap, and flash-fry the fucker. Some concealed floodlights might be effective too, but only if he won't find out about their installation.

I am here Mr. Holister. I don't think you are a bad guy, and i dont want to find out if your mind and spirit would survive becoming one. I know the path of vengance and hate far too well.

Sounds like we have Mr. Nordstrom, and a few other players manipulating things. That is why I say violence may not be the appropriate answer. (Do you want to give Khavik the pleasure of seeing more of his enemies kill eachother?)

Small prblem Bert...Im walking round the streets of D.C. I only have my .45 with me right now. My shotgun is still in my car, back at the motel.

Im a little "underarmed" at this moment. Im not "BB" anymore, so all I can lug round is my sidearm and hope I don't get myself killed in the process.

Bert_the_Turtle wrote:Besides, I don't wear black trench coats. Everyone says Brown is my color

Including Natasha, judging by her reaction to the gorka suit.

Ah hell....I got a pack of shadow mastiffs heading this way. I gotta run. I be in touch as soon as I........

Holister Damn it You mean you left those Guns I gave you back in Maine?
Some Of my team are still in D.C. if you survive the Mastiffs Call that number I gave you, I can arrange a resupply for you and maybe some back up, maybe?

Asshole's too clever to be seen, though impersonating us does sound like something he'd do, to raise your suspicion levels about the rest of us and keep himself from being attacked. Problem is, he's too intelligent to keep shapeshifting like that; he'd get in a form and stick with it; so you're pry right about it being the shadow thing...

Listen guys, I don't have too much time....have to secure this line.....report back later....I have Celeste with me......attacked.........Azrael.......The Shadowbuilder......hotel.................................

Ron Caliburn wrote:Why now?

I take a few days for personal buisness and I'm stck hearing about nasty things going on in the city I protect.

Murphy’s Law, I suppose . . . .

He was already getting to his feet, impossible as it was. Using Deathkiss as a prop, the immortal seemed unsteady only for a moment before regaining his equilibrium. Azrael no longer limped; the blood that covered his face no longer masked broken bones. He eyed the crowd apprehensively, no doubt wondering if he could risk killing me in front of a crowd. But then he turned to face me again, his face as expressionless as it always was.

Apparently, he decided he would risk killing me in front of a crowd . . . or at least, he would try. Keeping Deathkiss in front of him and his back to the crowd, Azrael returned to a fighting stance, elbows up, blade turned downward, ready to brace himself for a parry or swing the blade upward for a stunning attack.

The crowd cheered.

And then he charged. Lifting Deathkiss over his shoulder, Azrael came bowling in with as much restraint as a tornado in a tea set collection. This time I caught him up in my own feint. Shuffling my feet, I shifted slightly to the left; Azrael followed. Right when he lifted the sword—I could see he was ready for his own feint—I beat him to it, ducking in a roll and somersaulting forward, coming up with my shoulder and elbow braced. It caught him in the stomach; I felt the wind leave his diaphragm as he grunted. Using his own momentum against him, I shrugged him free and tossed him with my shoulder over my back. Someone started chanting. And the others readily took up the hue.

“Blood—RAYNE! Blood—RAYNE! Blood—RAYNE! Blood—RAYNE!” I turned to face them with my brows knit.

“Get back! It’s dangerous here!” I cried out. I understood the connotation they were referring me by. And I wasn’t too appreciative about it. Not that that mattered; nor did it help that they were not taking my warning seriously.

They thought this was some sort of show. Everything had a feeling of theatricality about it. Azrael and I were pulling off moves impossible to complete without special effects. Our wounds healed almost before the spectators had a chance to see them – a sign of fakery, a sign of showmanship designed to promise a long fight. It didn’t help that Deathkiss glowed like some sort of special prop. It didn’t help that Azrael looked like the rugged outdoorsman of many a teen chick flick, it didn’t help that his long, gray hair and antique garments contrasted sharply with his youthful appearance and well-honed physique. Nor did it help matters that I looked like a vampire, that what I was wearing contributed to the sensuality of the situation. My pants were lean and hip-hugging, black and gray patching together to form the camouflage fatigues covered in fist-sized pockets. The black camisole I hadn’t expected to show the public exposed more than I cared to reveal: the right spaghetti strap hung severed, seductively low. I wore no shoes. I had meant to dress lightly and unfettered save for the flack vest.

But now I was wishing I had layered myself in cumbersome winter clothing. Especially when Azrael turned to face the crowd, his steely gaze narrowing dangerously; Deathkiss began weaving in his hands. I figured two words were flashing through his predacious mind: human thralls. He slowly raised his sword and scanned all the potential targets. I feared to move; he was in such a position that he could slay at least one before I could tackle him. He was swift enough with his sword to strike me if I intervened right away, and his defenses were in such a place that he would likely hit me before I could render him helpless, which seemed unlikely given any circumstance, let alone this desperate one. Their chanting only further aggravated the tensed man’s ire. And the humans weren’t sharp enough to detect it in his passionless gaze. His eyes focused on one target, but his back was to me; I could not tell who. I had to act.

Now.

“Get out of here!” I roared at the top of my lungs, tearing off my glasses, revealing my fangs, and jumping in front of the immortal in an inhuman bound in hopes of breaking his concentration. “Now!”

Those in the front row screamed and backed off as my vampiric visage coincided with my chill. I grabbed one teenage boy—the one who suggested I go porn, I believe—around the waist and hurled him aside, though the angle was not at all right. He skidded and rolled, and once he stopped sat on his hands and knees to stare wildly.

And then Azrael struck. He leaped behind me and stabbed out with Deathkiss; a blue-hot pain consumed my right side as he stabbed me through my shoulder blade. Any portion of the crowd that had not been unnerved by my distraction became so once they saw the amber blade erupt through my right shoulder; several more screamed out in fright and fled as he extracted the blade and I crumpled to the floor. Others rushed to my aid, but were stymied as to how they should bind the terrible wound that bled a shower of green sparks.

The rattled immortal, seeing the quarter dozen people milling around me in concern, attacked again. But rather than strike at any single target, he chose to kill as many as he could with one blow. Catapulting to the side and parallel the sidewalk, Azrael swung Deathkiss in an arc of glittering amber. For a moment, it looked like he had completely missed everything. But then I heard the groan of steel and saw the large, overhanging streetlight teetering dangerously.

There...line secured. No enemies around. Looks like Cee is up and around. I hope that she didn't mind the tranfussion, she kind of needed it.

Anyway, I saw the whole fight on "You Tube". Someone watching recorded it on a cellphone and posted it on the net. Wonderful. As soon as I saw it, thats when I packed up and headed back down here to D.C.

Im glad she's ok, now. I lil' bit o' Ben goes a long way. I still feel drained (no pun intended), but at least she's doing alot better.

Oh, and Azrael is quite alive and doing way to well for my liking. Ill post what happened last night in a different thread in War Stories. I don't want to tie up Cee's thread any more than I already have.