Untitled Slayer/Gargoyles Crossover
By: Gargress
Started: July 10th 2002
Status: In Progress
Author's Note: These are just a couple of little excerpts from my latest fic I've been trying to get off the ground. I'm trying to make it one-shot, so we'll see how that goes. (^^)''
***
A shaded figured sat not far off, keeping everything within the scope of his digital camera lens.
Brett tugged on the lapels of his stylish leather jacket, and tossed a devastating smile over to a nearby strawberry blonde seated at the Shei Shei Lounge bar. The blonde held her eyes at half-mast with a small, flirty smile playing on her lips. Tossing an "I’ll c ya later" over his shoulder to a few guys he’d shared a table with, Brett already made a beeline to an empty stool beside the blonde. Images of her wearing only that cute little smile taunted him.
Then his cell vibrated in his left, inside jacket pocket. Brett grimaced, psychically knowing who the hell would do this to him now. As much as he wanted to ignore it, Brett smiled in apology to the blonde as he sat down to answer the call.
"What?" His tone was clipped and annoyed. Brett plugged his other ear with a finger against the din at his end.
"Is that any way to answer a phone, brat?" came the taunting reply.
He would’ve liked nothing better than wringing his sister’s pretty little neck. "Do you mind Annie? I’m kinda in the middle of something here…" Brett half-smiled at the blonde, who already had a beer waiting at his elbow.
"Scammin’ on unsuspecting girls isn’t exactly a good reason to be out this late."
"Oh yeah," Brett skimmed his eyes over the blonde’s midriff and miniskirt, "it most definitely is." He remembered he was supposed to be annoyed. "Look, I’ll talk to you when I get back okay? Okay. C ya." He hung up and closed his flip phone with a snap. As he sidled closer to the focus of his attentions, there was a tap at his shoulder. Brett turned and felt his jaw drop.
There she was wearing a pair of black, flared jeans, low-heeled boots, a tie-around-the-neck black midriff, and an unabashed grin.
"You know," Ann smirked as she slipped her phone in the pocket of her long, white overcoat, "I thought what we had was special." The strawberry blonde looked between the two and quietly slipped away through the crowd.
Brett nearly growled. "What is your goddamned problem Annabella?"
Ann merely brushed off a speck of non-existent something from his shoulder. "Don’t you look adorable when you’re ready to kill me?" she said sweetly while tilting her head just so.
He swatted her hand away non-too-gently. "Don’t try that cutesy act on me, Annie. Cut the crap. Why do you always feel the need to follow me like a lost puppy?"
Her eyes were sincere. "I worry, Brett. That’s all."
Brett’s scowling expression softened slightly. "Well don’t. Just in case you didn’t know, I can take care of myself. Go back to the flat. I’ll be in later." His black, rubber-soled boots scraped the floor when he slipped off the stool and in the general direction of the blonde. Ann frowned. She couldn’t even get a word in edge-wise. Typical.
A cultured voice from behind poured over Ann like warm honey. "You shouldn’t let that rake put such ugly lines on that pretty face of yours."
Eerie familiarity made the little hairs on the back of her neck stand on end and a slow trail of goosebumps run down her arms and legs. Ann unequivocally turned; an easy smile set on her face. She had to look up, but her gaze met an arresting pair of eyes the color of roasted chestnuts. Early 30s when he died maybe, squared jaw, clean-shaven, and the faintest remains of a tan which gave him a somewhat normal complexion. Tall, dark and oozing charm. Yup, definitely the forces of evil had to be at work here.
Ann carried on without a hitch. "And you are…?"
He gestured to a stool, "A gentleman above all else," watched her seat herself before he took a place beside her. His posture was relaxed as he comfortably leaned against the polished bar, eyes steady and trained on Ann’s face. She made it a point not to squirm under his intense scrutiny, but instead meet his gaze full on.
"Would you like something to drink? I hear they serve a decent cocktail…"
Noticing a glass of, most likely expensive, wine at his elbow Ann favored him with a sweet smile. Well, what the hell. Free cover from Xanatos and now a vamp who’s just as rich. "I’ll have what you’re having. What is it, Merlot?"
"Actually," he began, fingering the delicate flute, "I do not really mind the label when it’s served as a mulled wine." He gestured to the bartender and a glass was immediately brought over. "At least, not when I was alive." He pointedly took a long sip of what was in his glass.
Ann’s stomach turned as she saw how the overly thick liquid left a syrupy coating in the glass, although she tried to keep a straight face as she sipped her own wine to keep the bile down. The idea wasn’t working as well as she’d hoped. She stifled a gag reflex.
"Are you unwell?" he innocently inquired, eyebrows raised. "Perhaps the bartender overdid his hand on the cloves…" he took another sip.
Ann set her glass down, tilted her head just so, and flashed him a grin. "It was definitely the cloves."
The vamp in the black, shirt-collared coat allowed himself a soft laugh, "You know," and swirled the drink in his glass before polishing off the last bit, "you are just as impertinent as all the rest."
"I’m sorry?" Ann let the grin dim to a dry smile.
He leaned in close, eyes never leaving hers, "Careful little Slayer," he murmured, "you play with fire."
Ann got just as close and whispered, "I went numb from the pain years ago." She slipped off the stool immediately after, and sauntered off into the crowd.
***
***
Dinner simmered on the kitchen stove, and marinated in its pan. A familiar trio of gargoyles made for a rather peculiar, yet homey, scene in the metallic gourmet Wyvern kitchen. The largest of the group reigned over the meal with an iron spatula, while the other two rookery brothers sat on stools behind a nearby, metal countertop.
"I don't blame him, Lex. There's been more 'X-files' here in Manhattan over the past few weeks than on the actual show!" Broadway frowned. "And Elisa's in the middle of it."
Lexington shrugged and shifted his attention back to his portable laptop. The flurry of typing continued. "True, and with Goliath around they could handle anything. Besides, this might be just another human with a twisted case of copycat syndrome."
The large gargoyle cook turned over a few steaks and covered them again before turning to tend the roasted potatoes. "I still don't like it Lex. It's like we've stepped into the Twilight Zone."
"When isn't it?" Brooklyn countered, gaze lifting from his motorcycle magazine. "Ultra Pack? Oberon? It's a veritable, real-life Twilight Zone Marathon. All we need is Sterling and the creepy music."
Whistling echoed in the hallway outside the kitchen, and all gargoyles visibly jerked only to see a grinning, redheaded detective stroll into view. The three gargoyles groaned.
"That wasn't funny Bluestone," Brooklyn grumbled, pointedly cloaking his wings in annoyance.
Lex broke out into an impish grin from behind his laptop screen. "Good timing, Matt."
"Whatever," Broadway snorted, and turned back at the ping of the oven-timer.
"Maybe I should go into stand-up," Matt offered, plopping down on a stool near Lex to look over the smaller gargoyle's shoulder.
"Nah," Brooklyn commented, "you wouldn't make it passed your first knock-knock joke," as he glanced up with a playful glint in his eyes before returning to his magazine.
The detective rolled his eyes. "Everyone's a critic." His eyes drifted back to the laptop screen and an eyebrow quirked. "What're looking for Lex?
"Local known cults known for vampire worship, and cross-referencing with people arrested on charges of violent crime." Lex continued navigating through the results. "Nothing really concrete yet, though."
"What's that window at the bottom?"
"Oh this?" The olive-green gargoyle maximized the window in question.
Eyebrows furrowed, Matt read aloud, "The Psycho Ward?"
"Yeah. It's this cool online database for mental disorders." Lex frowned, as he navigated his search results. "Maybe I can have some more suspects and motives for you in a minute, Matt."
"Nice work, Lex." Matt reclined sideways on the countertop, leaning on his elbow. "You know, the guys down at the precinct have some leads and potentials, but extras are always handy."
"No witnesses yet?" Broadway piped up, while he slipped the finished steaks onto a platter and garnished.
"Not a one. Maybe someone's 'encouraging' them not to come forward." Matt shrugged. "Either way, no concrete leads equals no progress." The detective craned his neck a bit, the wonderful aroma of dinner wafting everywhere now. "Hey, mind having an extra mouth to feed?"
"No problem Matt." Broadway grinned over his shoulder as he picked up the platter and brought it to the shining countertop, closely followed by the potatoes and dinner rolls. "Where's Elisa and Goliath?"
"Probably having some dinner somewhere not here," Matt replied off-handedly as attempted to keep his stomach from growling.
Brooklyn set his magazine aside, and tossed napkins in everyone's general direction. "Better bring over those plates Broadway. Matt might start chomping right off the platter."
"Ha-ha. You funny guy, you," was Matt's dry retort, as he stuffed his napkin down the front of his shirt.
Elisa breezed in at the moment when they were all poised to start their meal. "Sorry guys, but something's up!"
The gargoyle chorus of "Hey Elisa!" was very nearly drowned out by a healthy belch.
Matt ducked his head guiltily as he finished off another huge bite. "Sorry," he mumbled, digging in again.
"I reported to the precinct for my shift and the place was buzzed about some guy high on PCP darting across Central Park West." Elisa made a face. "Witnesses said his face was all screwed up and scaly."
Brooklyn's gaze was intense, and Broadway frowned, as he mused aloud, "Doesn't sound like any drug I've seen on TV."
"I hope not," his beaked rookery sib muttered.
Matt's attention was on Elisa, half-eaten dinner forgotten for the moment. "Was there a victim suffering--"
"--from severe bloodloss?" Elisa concluded, and scowled. "Yeah. The poor woman's unconscious in Manhattan General right now."
Brooklyn scowled. "Why don't people just not take shortcuts at night? It's not like we can be everywhere and save everyone."
Detective Maza's expression softened. "I know, Brook, but it looks like someone was there." The seasoned NY cop had everyone's rapt attention. "The victim? She wasn't alone. The boyfriend was the first to go down, knocked senseless. The gang that attacked them seemed to like prey that would run, so they went for the girlfriend. He said he'd gotten up and went after them as best he could, when a girl showed up and 'killed' two of the guys."
"The other one got away through Central Park West," Broadway concluded.
"Right," Elisa confirmed.
"Wait, wait. What do you mean 'killed'?" Matt interrupted.
"Well, the boyfriend said they turned to--"
"Dust?" Lexington piped up for the first time, looking up from his laptop.
"How'd you know?" Brooklyn asked, brow furrowed.
The olive green gargoyle grinned impishly and nodded towards his screen. "These things are definitely not human, but they look human… sort of. Matching up that criteria with what else we have so far, I did a Boolean search and came up with some hits on what we might be dealing with. Vampires are the only ones that can be dusted that quick on site. The other ones need sunlight, or don't look human at all."
Elisa raised a sardonic eyebrow. "Gargoyles, Archmages, King Arthur, and now vampires. Why not?"
"Well, a little garlic, a little silver, and we're back to a vampire-free environment. Right Lex?" Matt suggested, taking bites of his dinner here and there.
Brooklyn snorted. "Somehow I don't think normal people would take to the idea too well."
Broadway spoke up. "But this girl has. Maybe people aren't as blind as we think."
"No, just in denial," Brooklyn countered. "They have a hard time dealing with gargoyles and we're on the front page all the time."
"Of the Daily Tattler, Brook," Elisa gently amended. "People just don't want to admit that everything they're scared of might be real. Especially if it's right above the latest alien abduction."
"Too bad for us," the largest of the Trio lamented.
"No," Brooklyn countered, "great for us! Or else we'd have more Quarrymen after our tails."
"Well, at least it'd be a step in the right direction," Broadway shot back.
"Either way," Elisa pointedly interrupted the bickering, "There's been a rise in activity with these 'vampires.' Keep a lookout for them, but remember to watch your backs."
Owen Burnett watched the exchange with a seemingly dispassionate expression, but inside the gears were turning. He suddenly rose from the security console, an idea in mind. He was certain whom he had in mind would gladly take on a chance to actively protect once more.
***
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