How Jon met the night (Scene Two) *Stargate Cross*
Why do I like hurting Mini-Jack? it's like a sickness. It's because he's not mine isn't it, I'd probably be nice to him if he belonged to me.
Scene Two *Connor vs. Hydra*
The girl escaped him by vaulting over a twelve foot fence, grinning and waving once she landed on the other side. Jon stared after her, and then looked at the fence, there was no way he could climb it before she got away. He kicked it, just in case the bottom was loose, but it wasn’t. He was understandably disappointed, though he figured that nothing more could be done that night without backup or any idea what was going on. So he trudged to his apartment, started the English paper, then became bored and decided to finish it during History class the next day.
As he got into a pair of sweats and brushed his teeth he debated reporting the creatures he’d seen but eventually decided against it; he wanted proof before he called General Hammond, not just a handful of dust. He turned on the T.V. and headed to bed, falling asleep to the familiar sound of the Simpsons. He refused to acknowledge how uncomfortable it made him going to sleep in silence, knowing that nobody was going to call or drop by unexpectedly. He even missed Carter’s techno babble, no matter how boring it had been, and Daniel’s vocal complaints when he touched the 5000 year old artifacts. Now days the only time anybody acknowledged his existence was when his teachers decided he needed a nudge to get something other than mediocre grades.
The next night went by with him scouting through the cemeteries and parks looking for any sign of the girl or more creatures. Even though he found neither the search gave him a purpose that burned off the tediousness that was his life. It didn’t help his schoolwork any, but most of the teachers let that slide when they noticed that the normally sullen and snarky teen was smiling more often.
It wasn’t until the Monday of the next week that Jon found anything at all.
That time it wasn’t a scream that drew him into the world of the supernatural, but a roar. Zat held ready he circled around, listening as snarls that didn’t come from any animal he knew of rumbled through the trees. He came to an opening and stood staring for a moment, considering the possibility that he’d finally snapped and was hallucinating the house sized hydra currently slithering out the sewer’s entrance.
It took a few seconds but he eventually noticed the group of kids (yeah they were his ‘age’ but he still thought of them as kids) harassing the hydra with swords, axes, and crossbows. Since the hydra was so tall they had to draw one of its heads downward, dodging fangs that dripped with poison as they swung at its necks.
Jon fired at one of the heads, lightning cackled, curling like little blue worms against the hydra’s scales. He fired again and was dismayed when it didn’t die. Instead, one of the other heads snapped towards him, jaws slamming shut close enough that he could feel the air whip around him.
One of the kids (a longer haired kid that looked like he should be in a aspiring rock group, not playing knights of the round table with a nine headed dragon) leaped at the head, holding a sword above his head and swinging it downward. There was a sickly crunch as the blade severed the spine, and the bulbous eyes that still gazed at Jon rolled back. The kid jerked the blade out of the hydra’s neck and landed neatly beside him. He shoved the blood soaked sword towards Jon and said only, “don’t bother with elemental magic, Just aim for the heads,” before diving weaponless back into the battle.
Jon watched for a moment as the kid pummeled the hydra’s legs, punching and kicking with admirable zealousness. Then he fired his zat to get another head’s attention, dodging away then swinging the sword like a club when it lunged towards him. His blade hit with a thump then scraped across the scales of its neck, finally lodging at the base. How the hell had the kid made that look so easy?
The head swiveled towards him, “Crap!” He ducked aside, awkwardly jerking the sword out of the beast’s flesh. Unfortunately he ducked into the path of one of the other heads, and the long fangs dragged across his back tearing right through his windbreaker and the Kevlar vest he’d taken to wearing. The burning was instantaneous, like fire ants were crawling over his skin and tearing bits of his flesh with their pincers then pouring tiny ant-sized buckets of acid in afterward. He fought to stay awake, fought to grit his teeth and work through the pain.
The last the he was aware of was the sword being pulled from his grasp and hands gripping his shoulder, drawing a scream from him as they dragged him across the grass.