The light had hardly settled, when it suddenly went out. Immediately, within the same breath, a shadow of darkness swallowed the entire landscape. The sun seemed powerless in the face of the gloomy cloud.
Instantly, the lobby darkened- ushering in the man of the hour; Dracula himself.
Cloaked in a flowing black robe, riding on an invisible cloud of authority, the alchemist descended slowly from twelve feet high.
All around the floating necromancer, thick black smoke seeped out from his robes. The flapping sounds of his black cloak fluttered quietly as he silently glided downwards. His hands remained hidden under the dark fabric. And on his bearded face, his two eyes sparkled- sending waves of power across the room.
Five feet away from the ground, under his cloak, his shoulders heaved, And his trim arms unfolded themselves- like a human sized bat.
His face twitched slightly, and the swirling smoke cloud responded. With an invisible pull, he floated down- till he was barely ten inches above the ground. The sound of a low buzz- like the hum of bees, came in steady vibration from his feet.
He was barely hovering at this point.
At once, all the werewolves went deadly quiet.
A moment passed with zero sound. Two moments passed with no movement.
"Lord Reaves, I know you're in there–"
Dracula's voice was thin. Still, his words raked through the chilling quietness, arresting every ear;
"–we can either do this the easy way, OR THE HARD WAY!" he paused; "SHOW YOURSELF!"
Tingles broke out on the sweating backs of the hidden cops.
In the toilets, upstairs in the storage rooms, backed up against shut office doors, several dozen cops held their breaths. Dracula smiled. He could hear their hearts beating. His nose twitched, smelling their full blown terror.
But only one heart beat mattered to him.
And its was buried twelve feet below- in the basement- under the station's bunkers.
Reaves felt the tingle in his spine, and wondered if it was just him. All around him, the walls of the iron bunker suddenly felt colder. He gripped the iron rods, steadying himself against the bars.
"Don't even think about it," Tiffany's voice rasped next to him.
He sighed- straightening his posture; "You heard him, he's not gonna stop- not until he sees me."
A slight scoff burst from his daughter's lips; "Father, you know what happens next. Of course he's not just gonna offer you cookies and break bread!"
The exasperation in her eyes bled into her tone. Her voice broke towards the end, almost choking her. But Reaves shook his head- adjusting the V-knot of his silk tie;
"I'll try to reason with him, find out what he wants. Everything is negotiable."
"Not this one! You can't possibly be serious. . ."
"Calm down child," he rebuked her gently.
"Please father. . ." her voice broke again; "Please. . .don't go. . .not out there. . .let the cops deal with him. . ."
In her cotton white gown, and the frock folded in a neat bow, she looked every inch a honorable child. The metallic grey walls of the bunker paled next to her brilliance. The two of them stood alone in the iron basement, facing each other- wordless pleas hanging- suspended between them.
"Brace up daughter," he said flatly; "This is no time for sentiments. If I don't make it back–"
A sharp gasp jutted out of her throat.
He continued;
"If I don't make it back, make sure you go to my home office, look behind the portrait of your grandfather- there's a safe in there. Its enough gold to keep you fed for the next deca–"
But Tiffany lunged at him, swallowing his tall torso in a tight embrace.
She wept into his chest. Rich, heavy sobs poured out freely.
Reaves remained still- refusing to hug her back.
Outside, Dracula's calm voice came;
"Reaves, you have till the count of ten. Or I'll make this building your tomb."
Tiffany cried- hugging her father even tighter, feeling the pangs of the death threat. Gently, Reaves pulled her away.
"ONE. . ."
Tiffany's sobs rose by an octave.
"TWO. . ."
And Reaves pulled away- locking her inside the iron cage, and turned to begin his ascent to the ground floor. Just as Dracula counted 'seven,' the tall powerful outline of Lord Reaves appeared at the door.
Dracula's eyes flashed.
The werewolves howled.
"There you are." the alchemist scowled; "I was beginning to think you weren't going to show up. Saves me the trouble of coming in there and dragging you out myself."
Reaves said nothing.
He stood under the arch of the broken mahogany doors- staring at Dracula. On the stretched out path between both of them, half a dozen zombies lined up both sides- solidly still, like lifeless statues.
"What's with that glare?" Dracula asked wryly; "You tryina be a hero or something?"
Reaves was no optimist.
He could try negotiating, but knew it was unlikely.
He recognized this game board- it was a move he had often played.
Dracula was displaying his full authority. He wanted Reaves hopeless and helpless. By attacking him here, at the police station, out in the open, he was sending a message; no one can save you from me.
So, Reaves swallowed his pride- and collapsed on his knees;
"You've won Dracula," he repeated again; "There's no questioning it. . ."
An amused smirk crossed the bearded man's face.
". . .but this is solely between the both of us. Please, spare Tiffany. She has nothing to do with this fight. I will do all that you ask, but please, spare my daughter."
The howling wind swept through the open courtyard- momentarily distorting the smoky image of the alchemist. The silvery rays of the crescent moon spilled across the compund.
Reaves, still kneeling, felt his knee caps burning on the harshness of the granite floors. Both his palms were resting on his laps, waiting for the judgment of his adversa–
"Very typical of you Reaves, very typical indeed. . ." Dracula spewed; "You beg for your daughter's life, and of course, you chose to willingly ignore the lives of the countless officers holed up in fear,"
His tone was flat- but the biting tinge of rebuke dogged each and every word;
"What about the countless lives you've sacrificed on your ambitious journey to power? Were they not all mothers and fathers- each WITH THEIR OWN DAUGHTERS?!! How many have you orphaned Reaves? HOW MANY???"
Dracula's tufted white beards fluttered in the sweeping breeze. The stillness of the night only amplified his indignation, and his smoky cloud of darkness bloomed and bloomed.
Reaves, obviously contrite, let his head fall forward;
"It's too late to change the past," he said- almost in a whisper; "But I only ask one thing- and I'm not ashamed of the selfishness of my request." he gritted his teeth; "Please, spare Tiffany's life. . .I beg you. . .please. . ."
The sincerity of Reaves' request filled the air, and ushered in a contagious waves of empathy. The breaths of everyone listening dropped- all except Dracula. The lines around his eyes hardened;
"You're right about one thing though," he declared; "It's way too late. . ."
From the safe house, the hair on everyone's neck stood at attention- including Abby!
The light had hardly settled, when it suddenly went out. Immediately, within the same breath, a shadow of darkness swallowed the entire landscape. The sun seemed powerless in the face of the gloomy cloud.
Instantly, the lobby darkened- ushering in the man of the hour; Dracula himself.
Cloaked in a flowing black robe, riding on an invisible cloud of authority, the alchemist descended slowly from twelve feet high.
All around the floating necromancer, thick black smoke seeped out from his robes. The flapping sounds of his black cloak fluttered quietly as he silently glided downwards. His hands remained hidden under the dark fabric. And on his bearded face, his two eyes sparkled- sending waves of power across the room.
Five feet away from the ground, under his cloak, his shoulders heaved, And his trim arms unfolded themselves- like a human sized bat.
His face twitched slightly, and the swirling smoke cloud responded. With an invisible pull, he floated down- till he was barely ten inches above the ground. The sound of a low buzz- like the hum of bees, came in steady vibration from his feet.
He was barely hovering at this point.
At once, all the werewolves went deadly quiet.
A moment passed with zero sound. Two moments passed with no movement.
"Lord Reaves, I know you're in there–"
Dracula's voice was thin. Still, his words raked through the chilling quietness, arresting every ear;
"–we can either do this the easy way, OR THE HARD WAY!" he paused; "SHOW YOURSELF!"
Tingles broke out on the sweating backs of the hidden cops.
In the toilets, upstairs in the storage rooms, backed up against shut office doors, several dozen cops held their breaths. Dracula smiled. He could hear their hearts beating. His nose twitched, smelling their full blown terror.
But only one heart beat mattered to him.
And its was buried twelve feet below- in the basement- under the station's bunkers.
Reaves felt the tingle in his spine, and wondered if it was just him. All around him, the walls of the iron bunker suddenly felt colder. He gripped the iron rods, steadying himself against the bars.
"Don't even think about it," Tiffany's voice rasped next to him.
He sighed- straightening his posture; "You heard him, he's not gonna stop- not until he sees me."
A slight scoff burst from his daughter's lips; "Father, you know what happens next. Of course he's not just gonna offer you cookies and break bread!"
The exasperation in her eyes bled into her tone. Her voice broke towards the end, almost choking her. But Reaves shook his head- adjusting the V-knot of his silk tie;
"I'll try to reason with him, find out what he wants. Everything is negotiable."
"Not this one! You can't possibly be serious. . ."
"Calm down child," he rebuked her gently.
"Please father. . ." her voice broke again; "Please. . .don't go. . .not out there. . .let the cops deal with him. . ."
In her cotton white gown, and the frock folded in a neat bow, she looked every inch a honorable child. The metallic grey walls of the bunker paled next to her brilliance. The two of them stood alone in the iron basement, facing each other- wordless pleas hanging- suspended between them.
"Brace up daughter," he said flatly; "This is no time for sentiments. If I don't make it back–"
A sharp gasp jutted out of her throat.
He continued;
"If I don't make it back, make sure you go to my home office, look behind the portrait of your grandfather- there's a safe in there. Its enough gold to keep you fed for the next deca–"
But Tiffany lunged at him, swallowing his tall torso in a tight embrace.
She wept into his chest. Rich, heavy sobs poured out freely.
Reaves remained still- refusing to hug her back.
Outside, Dracula's calm voice came;
"Reaves, you have till the count of ten. Or I'll make this building your tomb."
Tiffany cried- hugging her father even tighter, feeling the pangs of the death threat. Gently, Reaves pulled her away.
"ONE. . ."
Tiffany's sobs rose by an octave.
"TWO. . ."
And Reaves pulled away- locking her inside the iron cage, and turned to begin his ascent to the ground floor. Just as Dracula counted 'seven,' the tall powerful outline of Lord Reaves appeared at the door.
Dracula's eyes flashed.
The werewolves howled.
"There you are." the alchemist scowled; "I was beginning to think you weren't going to show up. Saves me the trouble of coming in there and dragging you out myself."
Reaves said nothing.
He stood under the arch of the broken mahogany doors- staring at Dracula. On the stretched out path between both of them, half a dozen zombies lined up both sides- solidly still, like lifeless statues.
"What's with that glare?" Dracula asked wryly; "You tryina be a hero or something?"
Reaves was no optimist.
He could try negotiating, but knew it was unlikely.
He recognized this game board- it was a move he had often played.
Dracula was displaying his full authority. He wanted Reaves hopeless and helpless. By attacking him here, at the police station, out in the open, he was sending a message; no one can save you from me.
So, Reaves swallowed his pride- and collapsed on his knees;
"You've won Dracula," he repeated again; "There's no questioning it. . ."
An amused smirk crossed the bearded man's face.
". . .but this is solely between the both of us. Please, spare Tiffany. She has nothing to do with this fight. I will do all that you ask, but please, spare my daughter."
The howling wind swept through the open courtyard- momentarily distorting the smoky image of the alchemist. The silvery rays of the crescent moon spilled across the compund.
Reaves, still kneeling, felt his knee caps burning on the harshness of the granite floors. Both his palms were resting on his laps, waiting for the judgment of his adversa–
"Very typical of you Reaves, very typical indeed. . ." Dracula spewed; "You beg for your daughter's life, and of course, you chose to willingly ignore the lives of the countless officers holed up in fear,"
His tone was flat- but the biting tinge of rebuke dogged each and every word;
"What about the countless lives you've sacrificed on your ambitious journey to power? Were they not all mothers and fathers- each WITH THEIR OWN DAUGHTERS?!! How many have you orphaned Reaves? HOW MANY???"
Dracula's tufted white beards fluttered in the sweeping breeze. The stillness of the night only amplified his indignation, and his smoky cloud of darkness bloomed and bloomed.
Reaves, obviously contrite, let his head fall forward;
"It's too late to change the past," he said- almost in a whisper; "But I only ask one thing- and I'm not ashamed of the selfishness of my request." he gritted his teeth; "Please, spare Tiffany's life. . .I beg you. . .please. . ."
The sincerity of Reaves' request filled the air, and ushered in a contagious waves of empathy. The breaths of everyone listening dropped- all except Dracula. The lines around his eyes hardened;
"You're right about one thing though," he declared; "It's way too late. . ."
From the safe house, the hair on everyone's neck stood at attention- including Abby!
