Chapter One
Dreaming of Destruction
3.1.2113 6:11 AM
'Dreaming...that's it. I'm dreaming...I've gotta be.' I looked around at the carnage that lay at my feet, bewildered that anything remotely human could endure, let alone dole out this much pain, suffering, and misery. You didn't have to be a vampire to smell the death in the air. One look at my human comrade's face told me enough. He could smell the death...and so much more.
It's the year 2113...bad luck to most mortals, but to creatures of the night like myself...it seemed to be home sweet home. The number thirteen held so many bad connotations. Bad luck, death, torture, hell on earth, apocalypse. So much had happened in the past hundred and one years that life, as it was known then, had ceased to exist. All those creatures thought to be "mythical" and "non-existent" had been exposed to the open public...and were opened up to seething hatred, humiliation, fear, repulsion. But most of all, it brought on what might have well been termed the Fifth World War...that's right. The fifth. The third...well, we all know that one. It's the third most recent bit in the kids' World and United States History books. 'Course, it all started with the bombing of the World Trade Center in New York City. The 0ld New York City. The old New York was the battlegrounds for that war. Looked like it was hell on earth to me. I still remember the day I watched from my shadows when, 2010, the scattered remnants of the once beautiful city was bulldozed and building was began anew. That day changed me...from a vicious, relentless killer to a vampyress with "filed teeth" as they now say. All that means is that I'm on the tamer side of the world of darkness, shielded from my old friends and forced to better myself with new ones. I used to say I changed faces...hell. I still do.
"Rayvin. Time to move," I heard a voice to my left. The Commander. I nodded my reply and trained my laser sight on the dark abyss ahead of our squad. The Commander pulled ahead, his platinum blonde hair seeming to come alive underneath the black Kevlar helmet. Why we still wear those things is beyond me. Everyone knows neutron blasts from any weapon will slice right through the old, outdated safety headgear...just for reassurance, I guess. Anyway, where was I?
Oh yeah. The Fourth World War. That was a short skirmish, kind of like a prologue to this one...the Fourth was short, about two years, and all of the casualties were for nothing. Of course. If they'd been for something, we wouldn't be here, fighting in the Commander's - hell. I don't even know why I call him that. He tells us all to call him Spike, never 'Commander'. We all refer to him by his rank outside of his range of hearing when we're with The Crew, otherwise known as the Thirteenth Battalion, The Hellions, Hell's Brigade, and a slew of other nicknames. We just call ourselves The Crew. Nothing more. Rumor has it, back in the day of the Slayer...he and she were quite the duo, if you know what I mean. And literally. I heard one time that they took out a warehouse full of vamps here on the Hellmouth, just the two of them. That's right. This battle's in Sunnyhell, as Spike likes to call it. Sunnydale, California...home sweet home.
"Ruiz, Michaels, Kyla, take a sweep of the right perimeter and report back here in..," Spike glanced down at his watch. "0800 hours."
The trio he'd named off looked at him in a dumb manner. "Bloody 'ell! Eight O’clock, people...din't you ever go over the soddin milit'ry times?...If I'm not back, wait for me. This may take a right bit longer that I'd like it to..," He looked at me then.
"Rayvin, you an' the two Wiccas are with me," he spoke crisply and headed off towards the right set of tunnels. The witches he was referring to were two of my best mortal friends, Isabelle Morough and Shalimar Mira. Spike had once compared Isabelle to an obviously very powerful Wicca who went by the name of Willow...one in a group of people he hardly ever referred to. He always said it hurt too much. I assumed he meant the "mythical" Slayer's group of friends the rest of the Battalion always spoke of in secrecy.
Legend had it that the gang, the Scoobies, helped the Slayer out on more than one occasion, fighting side by side with her when she needed help. The legends also said that the group included two Wiccas, an ex-vengeance demon, her sister the Key, her watcher, a carpenter, and Spike, and that the Scooby Gang - named after the paranormal-pounding gang of cartoon characters from around the 1960's - was her strength. That they were the reason she was the reigning Slayer for so long.
"Spike," I began, my Irish accent filtering through my whisper, trying to remain quiet as the four of us trudged through a series of dank tunnels. "What are we doin 'ere? We're not patrollin' are we?"
"No, pet, we aren't patrolling," Spike replied, growing silent. Almost pensive. "We're calling up reinforcements."
"Reinforcements? I thought..." I began, but was cut off when I was silenced by the blonde vampire before me.
"Listen, 's only one person I know can kill like we need killin' done, luv. And I promised 'er I'd let 'er rest...until she was needed again. I'd say now's when we need 'er pretty bad, don't you?"
"Yeah...I got ye," I shut up as we trudged onward toward the end of the tunnel. As we neared the darkened ceremony room underground, I began to catch whiffs of what I thought was the rare scent of jasmine, vanilla, and a bit of incense.
"Ray...Rayvin!" came a muffled whisper from behind me. I slowed my pace to allow the two mortals to catch up to me, carefully watching Spike's path through the winding tunnels. When the Wiccas caught up, they each took one side of me, a mix of a light panic, relief, and confusion on their faces.
"Rayvin...what's going on? What's he doing?" Isabelle queried, her British accent sounding a little strained.
"I think the better question would be, 'what is he going to have US do'?" Shalimar added in, taking in the look of fear on my face.
"My guess? I think he wants to bring back his Slayer..."
Index | Prologue | Next Chapter
