Date: 8/25/97 5:23 PM Pacific Standard Time
From: BuffyWntrs
The bricks plucked and snagged at the girl's tanktop, silently pushing and pulling like a myriad of tiny demons, seeking to send her sprawling into the street, into the mass of men that had spilled out of the alley. They fanned up and down the street, peering into silent windows and broken doors, looking ... for her.
A tall, bearded man stopped in the middle of the thoroughfare, turning his head this way and that, yelling directions to the searchers. Each time he turned his head to the side, Buffy froze, panic welling up in her throat, fearing his gaze would spot her in the shadows next to the alley. She slid slowly to the mouth of the narrow, stinking hole, and disappeared back the way she came. The Slayer held her stake low, trotting back through the alley, stepping on squishy, nameless things. She did not
look down, not trusting the heavy blackness to conceal the soft ground from her sight.
A man, either late or shirking the responsibility of being a goon, ran into the alley as Buffy was coming out, colliding into her with a gasp. Without breaking stride, the young woman grabbed him by the filthy collar of his shirt, spinning him to face her fully, and slammed a knee into his stomach, driving the breath out of him so he could not yell. She cracked a forearm to the side of his face, and let him slump to the ground in the alley. Pausing, still grasping the front of his shirt in a hand,
Buffy looked up and down the apparently deserted street. The moonlight deepened the shadows on either side of the street, but nothing moved she could see. Satisfied, she cracked her gum softly, and let the man sprawl into the muck.
Slipping the stake back into the waistband of her cutoffs, the Slayer ran back down the cobblestoned street, the pink sneakers almost inaudibly whisking along the stones, back towards the Arena.
Confrontation, part V.
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Date: 8/25/97 6:00 PM Pacific Standard Time
From: BuffyWntrs
She grabbed the heavy door, and swung it open. Darting inside, she leaned back against the wood, breathing heavily. A quick glance about showed the Arena was, unbelieveably, empty. Buffy muttered under her breath about timing, and stepped down the stairs cautiously, shrugging in her jacket, settling it more securely around her shoulders. Unwilling to risk the streets, she curled up on the caller's couch, confident that someone, sometime soon, would be coming to the Arena seeking a duel, drinking, or
flirting.
She slipped, unwisely, into a deep sleep, exhausted by the late hour, the fright, and the running. Danger and terror were driven from her mind, and her dreams, by the fatigue. An hour or so later, she murmured sleepily as someone placed a blanket on her gently. Buffy snuggled down into the chair. The Slayer dreamed, somewhat restlessly. A swirl of images ran through her mind.
A great, cloaked form, strangely menacing, and familiar, stood with it's arms upraised before a wall, a thin line of blue light bisecting it slowly. A door, ready to part, and split wide open. She could see a myriad of seething shapes behind the line, lunging, spitting, and howling as the halves parted. Slavering, fanged shapes, vampires so far into depravity that they were reduced to animals, with one thought running constantly through their twisted minds. To feed. Her vision spun, and she looked
through the eyes of one of the beasts. Out at RhyDin, the town, and the people. A deep, ravening hunger filled her, the salty tang of blood filled her nose, and she panted with the need for food. Ten, a hundred, a thousand times the Slayer saw herself run down hapless victims, leaping on them in an orgy of blood and hunger. Buffy whimpered in her sleep. And in the Arena, her flesh began crawling, even as she lay in the depths of the nightmare.
From: BuffyWntrs
She grabbed the heavy door, and swung it open. Darting inside, she leaned back against the wood, breathing heavily. A quick glance about showed the Arena was, unbelieveably, empty. Buffy muttered under her breath about timing, and stepped down the stairs cautiously, shrugging in her jacket, settling it more securely around her shoulders. Unwilling to risk the streets, she curled up on the caller's couch, confident that someone, sometime soon, would be coming to the Arena seeking a duel, drinking, or
flirting.
She slipped, unwisely, into a deep sleep, exhausted by the late hour, the fright, and the running. Danger and terror were driven from her mind, and her dreams, by the fatigue. An hour or so later, she murmured sleepily as someone placed a blanket on her gently. Buffy snuggled down into the chair. The Slayer dreamed, somewhat restlessly. A swirl of images ran through her mind.
A great, cloaked form, strangely menacing, and familiar, stood with it's arms upraised before a wall, a thin line of blue light bisecting it slowly. A door, ready to part, and split wide open. She could see a myriad of seething shapes behind the line, lunging, spitting, and howling as the halves parted. Slavering, fanged shapes, vampires so far into depravity that they were reduced to animals, with one thought running constantly through their twisted minds. To feed. Her vision spun, and she looked
through the eyes of one of the beasts. Out at RhyDin, the town, and the people. A deep, ravening hunger filled her, the salty tang of blood filled her nose, and she panted with the need for food. Ten, a hundred, a thousand times the Slayer saw herself run down hapless victims, leaping on them in an orgy of blood and hunger. Buffy whimpered in her sleep. And in the Arena, her flesh began crawling, even as she lay in the depths of the nightmare.
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Date: 8/26/97 11:46 AM Pacific Standard Time
From: SlothShamn
It was late at night, or rather early in the morning. Slothie couldn't sleep.The next day was a day off, and the business suit was locked away in the vault where it couldn't get him. That left only one thing which could trouble him.
::the sounds of snapping bubbles and laughter echoed in his head::
Resigning himself to the fact that he couldn't sleep, he wandered down to the back entrance of the Arena, avoiding the still-noisy RDI entrance. Maybe he'd sit in the rafters for a while and wonder why he'd fallen so hard, after all these years fighing in the Arena, against all sorts of women.
Pointy willow stick slapping against his leg, he hopped down the steps and smiled, seeing the place was quiet and deserted. Maybe he'd even find some loose change in the couch and tease Clo with it before giving it back.
Moving to the couch, he began to reach down to the cusions, and heard the slight whimper before he saw the cause.
::gulping:: (w)Oh man. . . .I can't cut a break tonight . . . . .
He watched helplessly as Buffy twitched in whatever bad dream she was having. Not sure whether he should wake her, he perched on the back of the couch to wait for her to wake. She *did* look a little too tired to wake, and, after all, this way he could look at her without going red in the face. How'd she do that everytime, anyway?.....
From: SlothShamn
It was late at night, or rather early in the morning. Slothie couldn't sleep.The next day was a day off, and the business suit was locked away in the vault where it couldn't get him. That left only one thing which could trouble him.
::the sounds of snapping bubbles and laughter echoed in his head::
Resigning himself to the fact that he couldn't sleep, he wandered down to the back entrance of the Arena, avoiding the still-noisy RDI entrance. Maybe he'd sit in the rafters for a while and wonder why he'd fallen so hard, after all these years fighing in the Arena, against all sorts of women.
Pointy willow stick slapping against his leg, he hopped down the steps and smiled, seeing the place was quiet and deserted. Maybe he'd even find some loose change in the couch and tease Clo with it before giving it back.
Moving to the couch, he began to reach down to the cusions, and heard the slight whimper before he saw the cause.
::gulping:: (w)Oh man. . . .I can't cut a break tonight . . . . .
He watched helplessly as Buffy twitched in whatever bad dream she was having. Not sure whether he should wake her, he perched on the back of the couch to wait for her to wake. She *did* look a little too tired to wake, and, after all, this way he could look at her without going red in the face. How'd she do that everytime, anyway?.....
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Date: 8/29/97 12:22 PM Pacific Standard Time
From: SpifyMcBng
Goon awakened from his drunken slumber in the Annex, and popped his head up over the bar. The place, was, per usual, empty. He unraveled his enormous frame from the small space he had somehow gotten into, and stood up, eyes blinking, sleepily staring across the room. He knocked over a few bottles on his out from behind the bar, making them crash to the floor behind him, but he paid them no heed. He didn't even seem to notice. He also didn't seem to notice that there was a blanket that Marit had given
him that night he got hammered stuck in his vest, making him look like he had a cape on. Goon shakily ambled past the tables and the rings, knocking the door over on his way out.
Goon stepped outside, stretched, gave a hearty yawn, and looked around. It was ludicrously late, and not a soul was to be seen. The only noise came from the sounds of men yelling in the distance. Rubbing his head, Goon mumbled, "Why men got be lot loud? It lot late." Turning away from the direction of the voices, he took two large steps and ended up in the Arena, the door to the building beneath his feet.
Goon clomped in, feet banging loudly on the floor. Looking up, he saw a man sitting on the top of the couch, who promptly said, "Shhh! You'll wake up Buffy!" Goon peered at him, wondering who this Buffy person was. Still, he didn't want to wake anyone up. He took one big step forward, putting his foot down as lightly as possible. He got a quiet "Shhh! Stop that, you're still too loud!" from the man on the couch. Looking down on the cushions, he recognized a pair of pink sneakers and a big wooden
stick.."Stake lady!"
"Shhh!"
Goon blanched, not wanting to wake up Buffy, but not wanting to have to stand there all night. He looked around, finally noticing the blanket sticking out of his vest. Not seeming to realize how silly he had looked walking around like that, he rolled it up into a little ball, and whipped it at the man above Buffy. He caught it square in the chest, flailed his arms around as he lost his balance, and barely grabbed the top of the couch to save himself from crashing to the ground. Goon pointed at Buffy,
motioning for the man to put the blanket on her. The man unrolled the blanket/projectile, snapped it out into the air to flatten it out, and guided it slowly down on to the dozing Buffy. Goon grinned, barely able to stop himself from calling something out across the room. Goon looked around, shrugged, and laid down, sprawling himself out on the floor, and fell asleep.
Not snoring.
From: SpifyMcBng
Goon awakened from his drunken slumber in the Annex, and popped his head up over the bar. The place, was, per usual, empty. He unraveled his enormous frame from the small space he had somehow gotten into, and stood up, eyes blinking, sleepily staring across the room. He knocked over a few bottles on his out from behind the bar, making them crash to the floor behind him, but he paid them no heed. He didn't even seem to notice. He also didn't seem to notice that there was a blanket that Marit had given
him that night he got hammered stuck in his vest, making him look like he had a cape on. Goon shakily ambled past the tables and the rings, knocking the door over on his way out.
Goon stepped outside, stretched, gave a hearty yawn, and looked around. It was ludicrously late, and not a soul was to be seen. The only noise came from the sounds of men yelling in the distance. Rubbing his head, Goon mumbled, "Why men got be lot loud? It lot late." Turning away from the direction of the voices, he took two large steps and ended up in the Arena, the door to the building beneath his feet.
Goon clomped in, feet banging loudly on the floor. Looking up, he saw a man sitting on the top of the couch, who promptly said, "Shhh! You'll wake up Buffy!" Goon peered at him, wondering who this Buffy person was. Still, he didn't want to wake anyone up. He took one big step forward, putting his foot down as lightly as possible. He got a quiet "Shhh! Stop that, you're still too loud!" from the man on the couch. Looking down on the cushions, he recognized a pair of pink sneakers and a big wooden
stick.."Stake lady!"
"Shhh!"
Goon blanched, not wanting to wake up Buffy, but not wanting to have to stand there all night. He looked around, finally noticing the blanket sticking out of his vest. Not seeming to realize how silly he had looked walking around like that, he rolled it up into a little ball, and whipped it at the man above Buffy. He caught it square in the chest, flailed his arms around as he lost his balance, and barely grabbed the top of the couch to save himself from crashing to the ground. Goon pointed at Buffy,
motioning for the man to put the blanket on her. The man unrolled the blanket/projectile, snapped it out into the air to flatten it out, and guided it slowly down on to the dozing Buffy. Goon grinned, barely able to stop himself from calling something out across the room. Goon looked around, shrugged, and laid down, sprawling himself out on the floor, and fell asleep.
Not snoring.