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| There Ain't No Justice |
| #75 |
- Blood Lust 2« : Stalking Buffy -
by Anonymous Bosch
My plane had landed a bit early, so I guess I missed the limosine Caine had
promised would be waiting for me. Which was fine by me, as the less
interference I had to deal with the better. On my way out of the airport, I
bought a newspaper and a roadmap at a kiosk, and made my way out into the
humid air of Atlanta.
Caine had asked me to come here to deal with a problem he'd been having
with some of his operatives disappearing. Seems someone using the
outrageous name of Buffy the Vampire Slayer had been stalking his
employeees, and leaving oakwood stakes in their personal mailboxes shortly
before their dissappearances.
My job was to find this Buffy character, and put an end to her predations.
Or something like that.
Sitting on a park bench in one of the better parts of town, I began making
marks on the roadmap I'd purchased. The homes of the employees in red, the
places where their bodies had been found in green. Slowly, a pattern began
to emerge. Whoever this Buffy was, she lived near the center of all those
little marks, i was sure of it.
I began my search by wandering the neighborhoods I thought it most likely
for Buffy to dwell in. I kept my knives handy, out of sight in the sleeves
of my windbreaker. I tried to look lost.
My "lost tourist" look must have worked, because soon enough I found myself
facing a trio of youths armed with an assortment of pipes and switchblades.
They demanded money, not to play video games, but to go purchase a
nintendo. I smiled at them, and assured them that they would not go
unpunished for their life of crime.
The largest one, presumably the leader, leered at me and swung his pipe. I
heard it swoosh thru the air as I ducked under it and rammed one of my
knives into his throat, while flicking my left hand to launch my other
knife into the eyesocket of the youth behind me. The third manling took a
step back as I drew my knife from the throat of his superior, and licked
the bade. His response was pure bravado... I could see the terror creeping
into his eyes. He drew himself down into a knife fighter's crouch, and
began to toss his blade from hand to hand.
We circled one another for a moment, and then he made his first lunge.
Since my left hand was still free, I used it to catch his arm as his blade
sailed past me, and bent his arm behind his back. I then used his own
momentum against him, forcing him to the ground. As we fell, I twisted his
own knife until it pointed into the small of his back, and our joint impact
drove it home, severing his spinal cord.
I picked myself up, and surveyed the carnage. I dragged my three entrees
deeper into the alley, propping the knife artist up where he could watch me
enjoy my grisly repast. I heard him vomit only twice... the first time when
I scooped out his leader's eyes and ate them like devilled eggs, and the
second time when I dished out the other youth's innards and began to lay
them out on the pavement. Finally, my feeding nearly complete, I drew up
close to him and looked deeply in his eyes.
Using my recovered knife, I began to slowly cut away at his shirt,
revealing his bare chest. He struggled a bit, but I used my greater
strength to hold him still while I carved a happy face into his bare chest.
Finally, I grabbed him by the hair and drew his head way back, exposing his
neck. Eschewing my knives, I let my teeth sink deeply into his flesh,
grinding them to cut my way thru the thick flesh & cartilage of his
windpipe until I found his main artery and began to feed on the lifeforce
As I fed, I heard footsteps behind me, followed by a muffled gagging sound.
I quickly turned to see a lithe, blond haired valkyre garbed in black
leather, wearing a bandoleir of wooden stakes over one sholder. It could
only be Buffy, I thought.
"Get away from him, you wretched vampire!" she cried.
"You don't even begin to realize your peril, child," I chuckled, "for I am
both more and less than that which you pretend to hunt.
"I think you'll find me more than adequetely prepared for the likes of
thee," she cried, as she quickly drew one of her stakes and hurled it in my
direction. "Take that, foul vampire!"
I let the stake fly true, and strike me in the heart. It mattered little...
I was immune to death until every last erg of stored life energy within me
was expended. I estimated that after 3 years of this existance, I could
withstand a hundred or more of her stakes. Purely to bolster her
confidence, I let myself fall backwards, gurgling in pain, when her weapon
struck home. I wanted her closer, so much closer...
I was twitching my legs and really making bad theater of the whole process
when I heard her step closer and place her foot on my chest. It was a
measure of my great personal restraint not to burst out laughing when she
proclaimed to the scattered corpses in the alleyway: "I, Buffy, have rid
the world of yet one more of the evil scourge called Vampires! Let the
churchbells peal with the sound of righteousness!"
I just couldn't take it anymore. Stupidity is one thing, bad (over)acting
is another. Who does she thnk she is, William Shatner? I let my left hand
curl once more around the handle of my knife, and swiftly reached up to
slash her left calf.
As she hopped backwards, clutching at the wound, I rolled over and smiled
at her as I pulled out the stake. Allowing myself to get caught up in her
delusions of theatre, I quoth: "Tis nobler to suffer the slings and stakes
of outrageous Buffy...."
"But... but... but... you're supposed to be dead! I staked you fair and
square!" she cried, dancing in a little circle, clutching her injured calf.
"Whoever told you life was fair was obviously trying to sell you something,
my dear" I quipped back, as I rose to my feet and gathered up both my
Seeing that I was not, indeed, dead, Buffy fled the alleyway and dashed off
into the night. While her black garb did much to hide her in the gloom, the
tiny trail of blood she was leaving behind was rediculously simple to
follow. At last it led me to an old brownstone, where the lights shone only
on the topmost floor.
I strolled my way around the building, looking for boltholes and finding
none. Buffy obviously never thought of anyone following her home, or at
least, she'd only bothered to trap the interior. I wandered my way into the
backyard of the brownstone, where the nice grey telephone box awaited. I
reached into my bag and drew forth the el-cheapo K-Mart special touchtone I
carried with me on business trips, and plugged it into the first jack.
It was dead. Jacks 2 & 3, however, revealed dialtones. Dialing a common
linesmans test number, I scribbled down both of the numbers thus revealed.
Calling the first only got me the high pitched whine of a modem, but
calling the second got me a slightly breathless but easily recognisable
"Hiya Sweetums! Its me, your friend from the alley. You should really see a
doctor about that cut, or it might scar" I quipped.
"You bastard! You'll never get me in here! I have the whole place
boobytrapped! Thermite charges, tripwires leading to shotguns, the works.
You won't make it past the first floor, you bloodletting weirdo!"
"Well, my love, maybe I won't have too. Talk to you soon!" I chuckled as I
hung up the phone.
Once I was sure she wasn't going to begin hurling things at me from the
roof, I dialled 911 and spoke to the nice policeman who answered. I told
him all about the crazy lady who dressed up like a B-Movie actress and who
claimed to have all sorts of unlicenced weapons and explosives at such &
such address. I also informed him that she was no doubt somehow involved in
the string of "vampire stakings" that had been reported lately. He thanked
me, and inside of an hour, I was bemused to see a pair of police cars draw
up in front of the brownstone.
I, of course, had taken refuge on the roof of a nearby building, the better
to watch the festivities. Buffy had obviously pulled out all the stops,
thinking that I would be the first one to come beating on her door. The
first cop knocked on the door - his mistake. It shattered in a burst of
flame, throwing the nice policeman halfway across the street, his uniform
smoldering. I saw Buffy's head pop out of one window, cradling a crossbow
in her arms... seeing the policemen, she gasped openly and ducked back
Within two minutes, the S.W.A.T. and Bomb Squads had arrived, along with a
hundred or so other policemen. The street outside of Buffy's brownstone was
a sea of red and blue flashing lights, I nearly fell out of my seat with
laughter as they began to spread out through Buffy's building, deactivating
her traps and confiscating her weapons. At last, a pair of officers led a
bunny-slippered Buffy to a waiting squad car and drove her off into the
Using my expense account, I took a nice room at one of Atlanta's finer
hotels. Since the Lust was not truly upon me, I found it easy to blend in
and enjoy some of the finer points of the nightlife there. I made it a
point to follow Buffy's saga in the newspapers, who were truly having a
field day with her claims of vampires stalking the night streets. Her trail
was very brief... she was found not guilty by reason of insanity.
Of course, nobody had counted on Buffy being as resourceful as she turned
out to be. Within days of being confined to the local high-security mental
institution, she escaped and made her way home to the old brwonstone where
she used to live. How she knew I'd be waiting, I'll never know.
She was plainly a sight to see. Still garbed in her hospital gown, her
beautiful blonde hair seemed to float about her head like an angelic cloud.
The look in her eyes was simply too delicious for words... caught somewhere
between fear and madness, she shone with an inner light. She had lunged
into what was once her bedroom and and had quickly punched a hole in the
sheetrock wall, drawing forth a bundle of stakes. She turned like some
tortured, captive animal when I chuckled at her from the corner of the
room, letting my feet drop to the floor from their resting place on her
"YOU!" she cried, her voice frantic with the fear of the hunter who has
become the hunted.
"Yes, Buffy, it is I, Mordecai. With all that has gone between us, I
thought that we should at last be on a first name basis. Can you feel it in
the air, Buffy? Great things are going to happen tonight."
"You bet your sweet ass, vampire. You're going to DIE!" And with that, she
lunged at me, a stake in both hands. I dodged her easily, as the
hypertension driving her muscles made her prone to poor reflexes. My knives
flashed, scoring cuts on both her cheeks.
"First blood is mine, it would seem" I whispered, as her headlong rush
ended itself with her toppling face-first over the foot of her bed. She
rolled, coming to rest on her back, just as my leap brought me down upon
her waist. A pair of quick slashes cut the tendons in her wrists, and her
grip on the stakes loosened, letting them roll off the side of the bed.
Her eyes were now like those of trapped animal. Sitting astride her hips, I
brought my right hand up so I could lick the blade... and at that moment,
my eyes caught sight of the full moon silloutted in the nearby window. As I
drew the bloody steel across my tongue, the taste of it awakened me to the
fullest. I smiled down at Buffy then, and something about the rapture in my
eyes broke her resistance. She softened beneath me, her useless hands
fumbling at my shirt in an effort to remove the garment. I brought my left
knife up and under my shirt, and quickly cut the silken fabric away. I
shrugged my way out of the remains of the shirt, as Buffy rubbed her
bleeding wrists against me, coating me in a fine sheen of her blood.
"Oh Buffy, I knew that you would understand...." I whispered, as I cut away
at her hospital gown, revealing her body to the moonlight. She glistened
like newly fallen snow. I slowly began to draw my knives along her arms,
winding my way to her breast. Where the blades moved, they left behind deep
red lines, and we both shuddered to the sound of her flesh parting. I began
to work my artistry upon her body, and her moans worked counterpoint to my
calling. At times, she herself would open those deep eyes of hers, and in a
hoarse whisper suggest a change to this pattern or that one. Soon her
chest, arms and face were a patchwork of bloody lines, and I rose from my
sitting position to strip away the rest of her gown and the institutional
I began with her right foot, carving a slow and steady spiral pattern into
her leg. From time to time I would stop to lick the blood from an
especially deep cut, as Buffy would not hold still. She kept beckoning me
to cut her deeper, and deeper, as tiny shivers would shake her body the
nearer I crept to her thighs. But I kept to my art, and cut no deeper than
necessary to draw the required amount of blood. I did not want her dying on
me before our dance had reached its cresendo. When I began to work my craft
upon her left leg, i was careful to weave the scar I had made weeks before
into the pattern that I wrought. I'd told her she should have had a doctor
look at it, but she hadn't listened. Oh well, one works with the canvas one
has, I guess.
At last, Buffy was covered in my designs, except for her most private
parts. I drew her legs up, and let her welcoming arms draw me upward and
inward, until my blade was resting on the tip of her opening. With a mutual
sigh, I let my blade sink deep within her vulva, twisting it when it met
with resistance. Dark blood poured out of her like a dam breaking, and I
nearly lost my balance when I leaned out over the edge of the bed to
recover one of her stakes.
The wooden stake she'd been carrying was about 24" long, and as thick as a
man's forearm. I licked the tip of it, and then drove it home within her.
She cried out then, a single pure note of pain and rapture. Her body
arched, throwing droplets of blood everywhere like a dog shaking water from
its back. I drew back on the stake, being carefull to keep a firm grip on
it. Her body clearly did not wish to let it go... I could see her furrow
her brows with her desire to keep the thick wooden shaft within her.
Fighting against the suction within her, the stake finally came free in my
hand. I set it aside as I dropped between her thighs and began to move
within her myself, the feeling of her bloody and shredded inner walls
sending powerful pulses of pleasure throught my body. Her breathing, too,
began to make itself heard in rapid, panting gasps, until at last her body
and mine convulsed together in a final, bloody cresendo. As the last
vestiges of her orgasm began to subside, I looked one last time within her
eyes, before driving her own stake deep into her chest, splintering the
bone over her heart with a CRACK!.
Hours later, on my flight back to Seattle, I fondled the other stake thru
the fabric of my carry-on bag.
I would remember Buffy with a smile....
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