Title: I Am Forever
Author's name: Vanessa
Rating: R! Lots of Gore and violence.
Disclaimer: All of the BTVS characters belong to Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy and all them people
Summary: It's on the first page
Feedback: Yes please. I crave feedback!
Chapter 22
She shifted the cruiser into third gear as the car raced down the semi deserted street in the direction of the police headquarters, the sound of the cars engine revving loudly. As she speed through the last red light on the block, she hoped the curb leading into the parking lot of the station, her stolen police cruiser came to a screeching holt directly outside of the main entrance to the precinct.
Swinging the driver side door open, Elizabeth gracefully stepped out of the stolen vehicle. Straightening the ruffled collar on the oversized shirt she was wearing, she looked up at the two story cement building before walking up the cement walkway, a wicked smile on her face.
“Evening gentlemen,” Elizabeth said cheerfully as she sauntered through the wooden double doors. “How’s business?”
“Can I help you?” Asked a young, dark haired male from the receptionist desk, not bothering to look up from his rhythmic typing or the ancient off white computer before him as the newcomer approached the tawny colored desk.
“I sure hope so,” Elizabeth said cryptically as she leaned against the young man’s desk. She tried to survey the offices behind him but it was rather difficult with the large, dark, patterned glass wall obstructing her view. “So. Who’s in tonight?”
“I’m sorry, is there something you need miss?” Asked the young man hastily, finally tearing his focus away from his work to look at the women standing at the other side of his desk. “Oh officer, I’m so sorry. I.. I.. I’m just sorry,” he finished with a soft, nervous chuckle.
“Quite alright,” Elizabeth reassured the man as she gave him a demure smile. “So, who’s in tonight?” She asked again.
“Just the Sergeant and a few officer’s,” he said as he looked her over. “Are … are you here to see the Sergeant?”
“Uh, yeah,” Elizabeth said smoothly, not hesitating in the slightest. “My Lieutenant sent me over. I have an assignment I need to fulfill.”
“ Oh! I’m sorry for keeping you. I wasn’t informed that we where getting a transfer,” the man apologized as he briskly pushed back his cushioned chair, preparing to stand up and show the women to the officers in the other room. “If you follow me, I will show you to Sergeant Plath’s office.
She nodded her head briskly and gave the considerably shorter man a demure smile as she stepped around the desk, awaiting for him to lead the way.
“So huh, what precinct are you transferring from? The man asked, trying to make casual conversation with the stunning women he was ushering to the Sergeant’s office.
‘Shit,’ Elizabeth thought internally as she hadn’t thought to prepare for this question before hand. “Uh, L.A. Metro Police department,“ she said after a few seconds, inwardly thanking the shitty hotel rooms she stayed at in Los Angeles for having Show Time.
The young man turned his head towards the tall women, giving her a quick quizzical look, before turning his attention back to the closed office door a few feet in front of him. Raising his left hand to knock on the hard oak door, he paused right as his knuckles where about to connect with the epoxy coated wood. “Excuse me, uhmm,” He faltered as he twisted to his right slightly to get a better view of the brunette, gently biting his bottom lip in the process. “What did you say your name was?”
“I didn’t.” Elizabeth admited in a terse tone, crossing her arms over her chest. “It’s Elizabeth.”
“Right,” he said with a nod of his head, lifting his left arm back up to the door. He waited a few seconds before slowly opening the heavy door. “Sergeant Plath? Uhm, there’s a new transfer here.”
“A new transfer?” Questioned the Sergeant, his graying eyebrows raising high onto his aged worn forehead. “I don’t recall being informed that a transfer was coming tonight.”
“Me either,” replied the receptionist. “Should I have her come in?”
“Yeah, bring her in,” Sergeant Plath said gruffly with a wave of his meaty hand as he shuffled around some papers on his desk. “Thanks, Jason.”
“No problem Sir,” Jason responded as he twirled around on his heals, exiting out of the room. “You can go in now,” he said, waving the tall brunette towards the office door.
Elizabeth gave the shorter male a brief nodded before sliding past him into the barely furnished room. “Sergeant Plath I presume. I’m Elizabeth.”
“So I heard,” The older officer said in a scratchy, gruff tone, no doubt years of smoking damaging the lining of his throat. “Please sit.” He gestured to two grayish brown office chairs, adorning the opposite side of his desk. He narrowed his eyes as he stared intently at the brown haired women sitting across from him, scrutinizing the way she presented herself. “How old are you, officer? You look no older then eighteen.”
“That’s because, technically, I’m not,” Elizabeth said smugly as she tossed her right leg over the chairs armrest. “But if you want to be precise, I’m actually ninety-five.”
“Don’t get smart with me,” Barked out Sergeant Plath, pointing his sausage like index finger at her grinning face. “I don’t know how you conducted yourself at your old precinct but here you will respect me and your subordinates with the utmost respect!”
“Eye-eye captain,” Elizabeth retorted with a mock solute.
Sergeant Plath gritted his teeth together in aggravation, the joint in his jaw popping out every time he clenched his teeth down tightly. “No wonder you came with no papers. I can already see we are going to have problems with you.”
“Oh, you have no idea,” Elizabeth whispered to herself. Before she could actually say anything out load the door to Sergeant Plath’s office opened, revealing Jason.
“Sergeant, I think you might want to see this.” Jason said as he held up a manila envelope with black sharpie marker scribbled on top and a few pieces of plain white paper clipped to the back, his voice was shaky and his eyes kept shifting back and forth between Elizabeth and the Sergeant.
“What is it,” Sergeant Plath said gruffly as he snatched the papers out of the young mans hand. He opened the folder to find a photocopied police report from two weeks ago, documenting a bank robbery that took place in Santa Monica. He skimmed over the basic information that took precedence in every report, date, times, name of arriving officer on scene, before finding what sounded promising.
He read thoroughly through the Los Angeles officer’s report about how a tall, roughly five foot nine dark haired, blue eyed, women with eight other men dressed in black suits attempted to rob the bank with automatic hand guns. He looked up quickly at the tall brunette who was sitting nonchalantly in his spare office chair, taking in her stunning characteristics. Returning his focus back to the document, he leafed over the details of the somewhat successful heist, flipping back and forth between the two pages of neatly printed text. Nearing the end of the hand written report, Sergeant Plath came to the part where the cop explicitly stats that all nine suspects where shot repeatedly but did not falter in the slightest during the shoot out to escape the bank. There was also a footnote at the bottom of the last page that six bystanders where injured during the theft while fifteen where killed ,including two officer’s.
Dropping the file with an audible thump onto his desk, Sergeant Plath nodded his head to the door, indicating he wanted Jason to leave. “Thanks Jason. I think you should go.” He cleared his throat loudly, trying to signal to the younger man about the possible dangers that lay ahead.
“No, I think he should stay,” said Elizabeth in an baleful tone as she stood up sleekly from her chair. Crossing the floor in one fluid stride, she blocked the receptionist exit towards the door. “Wouldn’t want you sounding the alarm,” she said cheekily.
“Who are you,” Sergeant Plath asked as his left hand stealthily slipped off of the top of his desk. Slowly he lowered his arm to the second drawer of his desk, unlatching the lock as quietly as he could to extract his pistol which was contained inside.
“What? Those paper’s don’t tell you who I am?” Elizabeth asked jeeringly as she stepped forward, effectively forcing Jason backwards with every step she took. She watched as the older officer shifted slightly in his chair. “Don’t do that,” she deadpanned, as she watched his left arm sink lower. “I’d hate to shoot you,” she removed the gun from her hip in one fluid motion, flicking the safety off and cocking the barrel with ease before bringing the deadly weapon to the temple of the receptionist. “Or him.”
“Would you now?” Sergeant Plath asked skeptically as he removed his left hand from the drawer, showing them to the brunette to prove he had nothing in his hands. “From the details in this report I would say otherwise.”
“I told them not to touch the alarm. I made it quite clear,” she said venomously as she pushed the now shaking young man down into one of the grayish brown chairs. “They touched it. So I blew them all full of holes. If they hadn't done what I told them not to, they'd still be alive.”
“That's your excuse for going on a kill crazy rampage?” Sergeant Plath asked in a dangerously calm voice, trying very hard not to let his anger get the better of him.
“You wouldn’t understand my excuse. But,” She said pointedly as she rested her palms on his desk, the gun still gripped in her hand. “I don't like alarms.”
“Most convicts don’t,” Plath said cheekily as he reclined in his chair, raising both of his hands to rest behind his salt and peppered hair. “That earsplitting ringing sound, those vibrant flashing red lights, the sudden sinking of your heart before it starts to beat frantically with fear. And you know … you know when you’re caught those four walls are going to be your 24-hour-a-day, constant companions. That’s when you realize your life is over.
“You’re wrong,” Elizabeth said dryly, raising her gun slowly to be chest level with the Sergeant’s palpitating heart. “My life has just started. While your’s,” she cocked her head to the side, listening to the fast pounding of his heart. “Is the one that is over.” she squeezed the trigger twice in rapid succession, sending two bullets into the sergeants flabby chest.
“You’re insane,” Jason whimpered meekly from his position behind her. “You’re fucking insane.”
“Possibly,” Elizabeth said humbly before walking to the office door. Turning around, she raised the gun at the receptionist, giving him a cheeky grin in the process. “Don’t move. I’ll be right back.”
As soon as the door clicked closed behind the women, muffled sounds of shouting, most likely telling her to drop her weapon, could be heard. The sounds of several guns firing, was all Jason could accurately make out from his position in the chair inside the closed off office. Cupping his ears to block out the sounds of the men in the next room screaming in agony as they died, Jason shook nervously, only imaging what was in store for him. Curling into a tiny ball on the chair, he waited for what felt like an eternity before the door to the office reopened.
She sauntered back into the Sergeant’s room with a grimace on her blood splattered face and her right index finger pushed halfway through a hole in her chest. Her navy blue police uniform was speckled full of nine milometer caliber bullet holes, most of which where already healing. Removing her finger from her chest, she pulled out the crushed bullet in the process. Slowly turns her head towards the receptions, she tossed the crumpled bullet at the shacking young man, before closing the office door. “Alone at last.”
“Now, where were we?” Elizabeth asked coldly as she sleekly glided across the office towards the young man. The sound of her chilled voice sending shivers up his spine.
“I-I-I don't really know any details about any fucking bank robbery,” the young man spluttered out in a rush. “I've only been on the force for six months, nobody tells me anything!” He shrieked as tears started to slide down his cheeks. “I don't know anything! You can torture me if you want--”
“Thanks, don't mind if I do.” She said, cutting him off mid speech before slapping his face, just hard enough to send it snapping to the right. “Now, I'm not gonna bullshit you,“ she started off as she grabbed the mans chin, bringing his face back to center. “I don't really care about what you know or don't know. I'm gonna torture you for awhile regardless.”
She paused to listen to the young boy gulp in fear before a new wave of tears started to surface. Removing the pair of cuffs from off of her belt, she twisted the man’s right arms behind his chair, clasping the restraints onto his wrist and pulling it in-between the opening in the lower back of the chair to claps onto his left wrist. “Not to get information out of you, because, honestly I really don’t care what information you have, but because torturing a cop amuses me. There's nothing you can say, there's nothing you can do. Except pray for a quick death.”
Once she was satisfied that the man was completely restrained, she moved to the Sergeant’s desk. Cocking her head to the side, she stared with intense interest at the heaving chest of the body that was slouched in the blood stained leather mid back office chair. Rolling her eyes in aggravation, she pushed the slowly dying man out from his chair so she could get to the desk drawers more easily.
Yanking the top desk drawer open, she rummaged through the miscellaneous items, searching for one item in particular. Growling in frustration when she didn’t find what she was looking for, Elizabeth slammed the drawer closed, yanking open the one directly below it. Corking her eyebrows up high, she stared in aw at the metallic Smith & Wesson Model 29 .44 Magnum laying flat against the polished wooden drawer. Gently removing the gun from the dying Sergeant’s desk, Elizabeth examined the gun in the air, lightly stroking the cold metal.
Kicking the desk drawer close, Elizabeth turned her attention back to the wheezing man on the floor, her interest in what ever she was previously looking for long forgotten. “This is quite an amazing gun,” she said, holding the gun out so the Sergeant could see it. “I always wanted to see how big of a hole this thing could make?”
Turning the muzzle of the gun around on the Sergeant once more, she watched as the older officer’s eyes grew wide with even more fear as he stared down the barrel of the gun. His raspy voice begging her to please spare his life. Swinging out the cylinder, confirming that the cartridge had six 44 REM-MAG, before swinging it closed, she shook her head no. Clicking back the hammer of the gun with her thumb, she slowly slid her index finger over the trigger.
She barely registered the sounds of Jason’s high pitch please, most likely begging her to not hurt the Sergeant any further, before she looked down the rear and front sight of the gun. Making sure that the sight of the gun was aimed up accurately in the middle of the Sergeant’s sweaty forehead, she pulled back on the trigger. A loud shriek rang out behind her as the sound of the magnum firing in the small office slowly started to dissipate, all the while her eye‘s grew wide in excitement as a mischievous grin started to make its way across her face.
She stared down in amazement at the size of the hole decimating the former mans face. The one bullet had gone all the way through his head and had blown a sizeable hole open in the back of his skull where brain matter was starting to seep out. “Sweet.” she said with a satisfied smile before tucking the barrel of the gun in the waist band of her pants.
***
He wasn’t sure who’s fist hit him first, but what he did know was that it hurt like hell. The sound of his jaw popping and knuckles contacting the meaty flesh of his stomach and chest was all he could hear. Another fist, presumably that of the first vampire he pissed off, struck him again, sending him stumbling backwards into a nearby pillar. Leaning sluggishly up against the pillar, he groaned in agony as one of the three other vampires grabbed him by the scruff of the shirt, as a fist connected with his temple from both sides, successfully rendering him dazed and confused.
He went to send a right hook at the closest vampire, but the punch was to slow and easily intercepted by the snarling tattooed covered vamp. He watched in shock as the much larger vampire twisted his captured hand backwards before Roy sent an uppercut to his exposed stomach.
Out of reflex, Lambert bent over, taking in an unnecessary gasp of air as pain shot through his nervous system. With his body bent over at the waist and his arms being held up by Roy and the first vampire, the third vampire that slide out of the booth grabbed the ex officer by the back of the head, sending his right knee up into the bridge of his nose.
Having lost interest in watching the fight, Calvin removed the straw from his beverage before placing his nearly empty drink down on the bar counter. Giving a small smile and nod to the barkeep, he walked away from the counter and to his blood brother that was still being pounded against the pillar. Placing his right forearm on Roy’s shoulder while wedging in between the third vampire, slightly pushing him back in the process. “Hey, can I get in on this?” He asked as he removed his arm from off of Roy’s shoulder to grasp Lambert’s bloody shirt.
“Yeah, sure,” Roy said boisterously, a cocky smile plastered on his face.
Pulling his left hand backwards high above his head, as if getting ready to strike Lambert, Calvin instead struck the third vampire in the face with his elbow before letting loose with his clenched fist, effectively knocking over the first larger vampire that had originally started the fight.
“Son of a bitch,” hollered Roy as he gripped Calvin by the back of his shoulders, flinging him over a empty near by table.
Pushing himself off of the chipped column, Lambert shook his head, trying to clear away the double vision. Once standing on his own two feet, Lambert stared down at the large tattooed covered vampire who was slowly starting to stand back up, before grabbing him by the scruff of his collared shirt and head butting him.
“Oh, not smart,” Lambert husked out as he spun around before collapsing to the floor with the unconscious vampire he just head-butted.
“Scott, go help Colin,” Roy barked out in anger. “I got this one.”
“Rip his head off Scott!,” shouted the redheaded girl from the table, before getting pushed back down into her seat by one of the Hemlock demons.
“Oh, I plan on it,” Scott said dryly as he lifted Lambert up off of the floor before kicking him square in the chest, sending him sprawling back to the ground. “You picked the wrong fucking vampires to mess with.”
“And yet I’m still going to kick your ass and take your girl.” Lambert said offhandedly as he scrambled slowly to his hands and knees.
“Over my cold, dead, body,” The demon hastily laughed as he reached for the back of the young vampires shirt. Spinning in a half circle, Scott flung the ex cop half way across the room, watching as he slammed hard enough into another pillar to crack the foundation.
Rolling onto his left side to take the pressure off of his right shoulder that just impacted with the column, he waited there for a few moments before flipping onto his stomach. Once again, he slowly pushed his body off of the floor, his arms shaking as he lifted the weight of his body into a standing position. Turning around to lock gazes with Scott he started to walk forward.
“What is wrong with you?” Scott shouted out in frustration. “Do you like getting beaten? You just don’t go away!”
“What can I say,” Lambert said slowly as he held tight to his right shoulder, limping sideways towards the bar. “I’m like the fucking energizer bunny.”
“Where are you going now?” Scott asked bewildered, watching as the beaten fledgling inched towards the bar. “Going to take a rest little bunny?”
“Yeah, I think I’m going to rest.” Lambert admitted as he reached the nearest bar stool, leaning on the wooden seat for support. “I’m feeling kind of weak.”
“Good.” Scott said loudly as he snapped his knuckles, walking towards the weaken vampire in the process. “Then this is almost over with.”
As he reached the exhausted ex cop with a devilish grin was plastered over his mouth, Scott was fully prepared to end the fledglings newly turned existence. However, what he wasn’t prepared for was the base of the stool Lambert was leaning on to swing at his head. As the four thin legs of the chair shattered over his head, Scott stumbled backwards, landing heavy on his back giving Lambert enough time to scoop up one of the broken fragments of the chair.
“I told you I was going to kick your ass,” Lambert said snidely from above the slightly dazed vampire as he swayed from side to side on unsteady feet, the make shift stake hanging loose in his right hand. He looked down into petrified eyes before gripping the jagged wooden chair leg with both hands. Dropping quickly to his knees on either side of Scott’s chest, he plunged the wooden object deep through his heart, a satisfied smile playing on the edge of his lips. “Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of your girl,” he whispered as the body beneath him turned to dust.
***
“Scott, go help Colin,” Roy barked out in anger. “I got this one.”
Kicking a chair out of his way, the dusty haired vampire made his way towards Calvin. “You should have stayed out of this queer,” shouted Roy as he gripped the table that Calvin just flew over with both hands, flipping it onto it’s side to get to the newly turned pudgy vampire faster. “Now, you’re really dead!”
“Don’t, don’t fucking touch me,” Calvin whined out like a little child, crawling backwards on his butt and hands like a crab.
Tilting his head backwards, he let out a bark of laughter before sprinting forward. Jumping over Calvin’s bent knees, he landed hard on the other vampire’s stomach, with one foot placed slightly below Calvin’s right armpit while his own right knee landed next to Calvin’s pelvis, his left forearm pressing deep into the pudgy demon’s throat.
“Hey ladies, watch this,” Roy hollered out to the two female vampires still sitting at the booth, their eyes glossy from watching the fight. Pressing his forearm deeper into the chubby vampires throat, he lent down to whisper in the newly turned demons ear. “I just want to thank you. This is going to get me so much tail.” Lifting his head back up, he let out a cocky laugh, before repeatedly punching Calvin in the face.
As Roy’s right fist continued to pound mercilessly into his face, Calvin desperately thought of a way to escape from his clutches. Sliding his left hand across the cold cement floor slowly as to not draw any attention to the older demon, he swiftly wiggled the appendage beneath his lower back, aimlessly searched for a weapon that would dislodge Roy from atop of his chest.
“It’s all over now,“ Roy said to the fledgling as his fists continue to hammer down onto the left side of Calvin’s face, a satisfied smirk on his face as the body beneath him started to go limp under the beating. “I’m going to take you apart piece by piece and have another notch in my belt before the sun even rises.
Sliding his hand back out from behind his back slowly, his fingers clenched around an thin object that was shielded from Roy’s view, he twisted his wrist, preparing to strike. “Well, I hope you can enjoy the victory with one freaking eye!” Flinging his arm forward, he jabbed the hidden item into Roy’s right eye, watching as a gush of blood spurted out of the end of the plastic pink straw.
Screaming in agony, Roy fell backwards off of Calvin’s stomach. His hands automatically coming up to his eye to try and dislodge the offending object.
Scrambling to his feet, Calvin watched with pleasure as Roy shakily gripped the end of the plastic straw, his fingers not successfully gripping the bloody object. After a few seconds of struggling to get a hold on the blood spattered object, Roy quickly yanked out the bloody straw, effectively ripping his eye from its socket in the process.
“You know what, this is getting to become a little to much for me… I’m leaving.” Said the female Hemlock demon as she abruptly slid back her chair from their table.
“What? Wait. No, pumpkin. Pooky-Pie, baby. Sweetie don’t go,” the large Hemlock demon hollered after his date until she left the bar. “What ever,” he said with a wave of his end. “She was a prissy little bitch. Wasn’t gonna get me none any tonight anyways.” Snapping his right thumb and forefinger together, then motioning with said index finger, he gesture for his lackeys to kill the one-eyed vampire.
Standing up from his seat, he took a few steps towards the two winning vampires. “So what’re your names boys.” The Hemlock demon asked as he stuck out his right hand.
“Calvin Lutz,” the pudgy vamp said as he shook the Hemlock demons hand.
“Lambert. Oliver Lambert,” the ex-cop replied as he used what little strength he had left to firmly shake the saggy hand extended towards him. “And we have a proposition for you.”
_________________ Alyson, oh, Alyson why don´t you join my band? So you could play the flute like this one time in band camp. I Am Forever / A Special Christmas of Sorts / Maybe It's Just Me / Honeysuckle Rose / Blackouts and Breakthroughs / When Love Arrives
|