Title: The Chase
| One | Two |
Feedback: Anything’s appreciated. I'm working on becoming a better writer, so the more critical, the better. Besides, if you don’t feed me, I’ll starve. Then how would I be able to post the second part or even continue on with this story? (Feedback is best sent to my email posted above.)
Ratings: PG… for now, future chapters may break into the higher ratings. What am I saying, may? Lol.
Warnings: If the idea of two women involved in a not-quite-platonic relationship upsets you… well what are you doing on this website? I mean, turn back now… yes, that’s what I meant.
Disclaimers: Anything Buffy related belongs to Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy (Although this is NOT, and I repeat, NOT, a crossover) All Popular characters are the property of me… wait, no… that’s not right *grumbles*… “They’re the property of Ryan Murphy.” Better? All I own is the measly little warehouse and $16.82 thanks to Christmas shopping.
A pair of determined footsteps broke the night’s silence. Her power was palpable and could be distinguished with ease by the sound of each boot colliding with the ground.
Sam strode down the ally with a single purpose in mind: Get the person who had left the letter on her desk.
Come get me.
If you can that is…
A wicked smirk graced her dark features as she advanced further into
the ally. If she wanted to play, Sam would play. And Sam would win. The smirk
grew with every step that brought her closer to her destination. A devilish
glint shown in her obsidian eyes at the thought of what was to come.
“She thinks she’ll get away with taunting me hmm?” Sam’s expression warped into a twisted smile, her lips parting ever so slightly to reveal two unnaturally sharp canines. “Let’s just see if she can handle it when I do catch her.”
The anger poured off of Sam at the thought of being taunted. Waves of fury cascaded from her body leaving everything in her wake quivering with fear. She was not one to be challenged, in any manner. Unless…
“She’s lucky,” Sam murmured through clenched teeth, “if it were anyone else who tried that they’d be dead before I finished reading the note…” She bit her bottom lip between her elongated teeth and groaned softly, “Good thing for both of us she’s not ‘anyone else’. I’m really looking forward to finding her, which I will. Of that there is no doubt.”
She tilted her head back and inhaled deeply, dragging the scents of the night deep within her. Her eyes opened lazily as she caught the one she was looking for. She broke into a run, her powerful legs pumping steadily, carrying her further faster then any mortal could even dream of.She crouched in mid-stride and propelled herself up into the air. Her hands grasped the end rung of the ladder, strong, lean fingers gripped tight to the metal bar, and began pulling herself up. Legs relaxed, she relied exclusively on the muscles of her upper limbs to raise her higher and higher up the side of the warehouse./p>
Reaching the top, she boosted herself over the ledge and landed without a sound on the roof of the warehouse. She stopped for a moment to survey the aforementioned warehouse.
The warehouse in question was a vast yet decrepit building. The way the roof sank and collapsed in on itself in places showed that it must not be one of the city’s recent restoration projects. One glance over the edge revealed that the building stood roughly five stories high and was situated in a decidedly neglected side of the city.
Sam inhaled once again and cocked her head in the direction the desired scent was coming from.
“Ready or not,” Sam growled out, her eyes flashed gold for a moment, “here I come.”
A/N: *Rating Change* Let’s go with… PG.5 for the uttering one barely-profane swear and the beginnings of violence. The rating will be reaching R in future chapters.
She leisurely made her way over to the south side of the warehouse and squatted down next to a rotting pile of cardboard boxes. Her hands deftly traced the gravelly surface of the roof searching for the weakest point.
“Mine,” she hissed out, punctuating her word with the punch of her fist as it crashed through the roof, caving it in.
Without hesitation she leapt through the newly formed entrance and into the depths of the warehouse. She landed in a lunge, one hand resting on the dirt floor as the other braced herself upright on her bent knee. The sound of her landing reverberated through the structure long after she had risen. She brushed the dust that had settled off of her shoulders and gave her head a shake to rid it from her dark locks. She arched her back slightly and rolled her neck to rid herself of the kinks that had developed from the chase.
Moonlight streamed in through the gaping hole in the roof, illuminating Sam as she stood ready, posed for a fight. Her muscles were taut with anticipation and could clearly be seen through the revealing clothing she wore. Leather pants clung firmly to her body, perfectly outlining each curve of her lower body. Her top, which was a matching black to her pants, accentuated her upper body with acute precision. The lack of sleeves allowed her pale but impressive arms to be viewed and the sloping neckline gave a brief glimpse to even more impressive assets. Light was all but swallowed by her dark tresses that arranged themselves wildly around her shoulders. All in all, as Sam stood there, bathed in a nocturnal glow, she looked like a goddess of the night.
“Come out, come out, wherever you are,” Sam called out mockingly into the shadows, already well aware of the entities hiding there. She smirked as they cautiously approached her, forming a circle. “Come on, big boys,” she goaded, her voice laced with an almost-bored sarcasm, “Come get me.”
“Diosa Oscura,” the closest one whispered, unable to keep the awe out of his voice. Catching himself and hoping the others hadn’t noticed his slip, he continued in what was probably meant to be a threatening tone, “I will take great pleasure in bringing you down.”
Sam’s eyebrows knitted together in stunned confusion.
“You have got to be kidding me,” she muttered to herself before continuing in a louder voice, “a fake British accent?” The condescending tone in her voice only served to anger the ‘leader’ further but Sam stood calmly, unperturbed by the growls he was emitting.
“Come on,” she implored the surrounding darkness, “vamps with fake accents that wear all black and what are those?” she looked over the vamp nearest her, “ CLOAKS?” she shouted incredulously. “Where did you get these Dracula-wanna-be’s??” Sam hollered out, incensed, “The cast-off list of Buffy? Do you really think that little of me or are you just trying to piss me off?”
Throughout Sam’s rant the ‘leader’s’ anger had been growing. Every word Sam spoke, every insult she uttered, only helped to fuel his rage and that last little Buffy comment sent him over the edge. *Diosa Oscura or not, you will die for insulting my honor, * he thought to himself. He lunged at Sam’s turned back with a blinding speed, drawing his sword and aiming at her exposed neck.