Feb 23, 2012 19:57
T H I N G S F A L L A P A R T
T H E C E N T R E C A N N O T H O L D
amascut,
rory williams,
applegate,
rue (hunger games),
hellboy,
annabeth chase,
ann darrow,
logan,
buffy summers,
waco kid,
teja,
veronica mars,
sallie reynolds,
katniss everdeen,
olivia dunham,
doc scurlock,
aziraphael,
mary anne bell,
coyote,
burton guster,
artemis,
yrael,
sameth,
will scarlett,
crowley,
skellig,
mal reynolds,
nick sayre,
felix of vale,
val von doom,
river tam,
anthy himemiya,
liz sherman,
annabelle newfield,
atton rand,
leonard 'bones' mccoy,
puss in boots,
illyria,
enzo matrix,
ava wilson,
thalia grace,
raylan givens,
raven,
tyler marlocke,
destruction,
hermione granger,
jack bauer,
the doctor,
splinter,
sariel rager,
michaelangelo,
kate barlow,
dixie cousins,
ben wade,
claudia donovan,
galadan,
john mccabe,
cal chandler,
moiraine,
michael the archangel
...but the lightning has stopped.
Suddenly, with a flash brighter than the hidden sun, a sound rises through the red-tinted tumult of battle. An indescribable shout of triumph, greed, and fury that seems to go beyond sound, piercing into the very heart of those who hear.
And with that shout, the silver hemispheres come together, sending a thick, malevolent column of fire boiling up into the sky, burning away the surrounding gloom with its heat.
The triumphant voice of Orannis the Destroyer howls across the landscape of Milliways like a great wind, echoing against the distant mountains.
Freeeeeeeeee!!!
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Okay, after the apocalypse, she and Sameth are having a chat about keeping Science Fair here away from the shit that can possess him, burn nice girls' skin, and try to destroy the bar.
About that, and how he owes her a thousand magical necklaces.
"Who are you?"
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"Nicholas John Andrew Sayre, of Ancelstierre. At your service."
Beat.
"Once I can move again, that is. Mean it, though. Word of a Sayre."
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"Ava Genevieve Wilson," she replies, even though he didn't ask.
"I think right now we're better off with me at your service, pal. But we can renegotiate if we don't all explode."
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"Count on it."
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He isn't sure when the shit an El Paso watering hole spilled into this mother of a goddamn nightmare, but apparently it did.
And, oh, what a peachy time to be without his beloved gun or a horse.
The earth shudders under his boots; Ben staggers out of the forge, wielding a pike.
He shall rule them with a rod of iron, indeed. Ben plans on making good on the promise of Revelation 2:17, starting with the slobbering hellhound bounding for him.
He skewers the overgrown bully with relative ease, and when he turns to meet the next obstacle, he's surprised, but pleased, to spot Ava's profile within shouting distance.
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"TALLDARKANDCOWBOY!!!"
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So, well, he can't help but grin as he strides over, swinging the pike as he goes.
"Now, Sparklehead, don't you know it's armageddon out here?"
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Only a slight chronological exaggeration.
Something comes charging towards them; it's got a lot by way of teeth and claws and-- apparently-- anger issues.
Ava holds out a hand with a sharp grimace, and those teeth suddenly chomp down on the forefeet with all those claws.
"... Also I should probably mention!"
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Only two of those legs are no longer legs so much as they are eviscerated stumps.
"Little Miss Irony!"
He's caught somewhere between glad and impressed.
"That was you," he says, and moves to take advantage of the creature's current state.
He drives the pike into one side of the thing's throat, and twists, hard.
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(Nicely done, cowpoke.)
"What can I say? I'm a girl with skills."
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His low chuckle cuts off with a sharp grunt as he yanks his weapon clear.
That blood looks decidedly orange.
Then again, it could be just the play of the light on all this carnage.
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Ava points at him, unmenacingly, with her pink bloodstained scepter. Her smile is a little crooked now.
"I kind of want to find my old teacher and ask him how he likes me now."
--Oh, hey, here comes a crab-demon!
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The approaching crab looks wicked in ways not even the Old Testament speaks to.
He doesn't trust this thing, the way it's moving, all clip-clack-clack and twitchy.
It skitters sideways, herky-jerky; Ben's eyes narrow, and his grip tightens on the pike.
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She narrows her eyes and it stops mid-herk.
"He wasn't really the kind of guy who'd want me to be fighting against a plague of monsters," she notes conversationally.
"Can you kill that?"
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Less than a heartbeat later, his pistol is up and cocked; he fires two shots, one for each demonic eye.
(This may not be his gun, but it's serviceable enough.)
Lemon-yellow mucus spews from the twin wounds, and the crab emits an ear-needling howl.
Ben winces.
And then glares as a swarm of -- electric eels? -- slithers from its gaping mouth.
"Well, I maimed it," he says, and takes aim at the crackling eels.
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