Monster At The Door
: Monster At The DoorAuthor
: Jedi ButtercupRating
: The words are mine; the worlds are not.Summary
: "Wow, someone's been eating their Wheaties," Buffy fumbled for a quip. "Kind of puts the Mayor in perspective, doesn't it?"
: Post-series for Buffy, no comics; starts pre-movie for Pacific Rim.Notes
: For day one of the August Ficathon. I haven't had much in the way of inspiration this summer, but I'm giving it a shot. *cracking knuckles* This world looks kinda fun to play in.
Buffy paled, staring down the hill at the massive form of the thing
tearing its way through San Francisco. They'd arrived in town that morning to visit Dawn and Xander; she'd thought it a serendipitous if frown-worthy coincidence when the news had flashed up images of a gigantic demony form charging out of the water, plowing straight through the Golden Gate Bridge. Old One meet Scythe, done in a jiff, unlike the last time she'd come face to face with a primordial whatzma-whosis in its original form. No explosives needed this time; just the weapon designed for the job.
That was before she'd actually stepped outside and seen
what the reporters were calling a 'kaiju' in person, though. She swallowed as the juggernaut of muscle tossed its wedge-shaped, sky-scraping head and swatted at a military chopper firing on it from above. Her sternum vibrated with the depth of its roar as blades spun away and the helicopter fell to earth; her bones shook with each step of its advance, and she'd give even odds whether it was actually the ground quaking or just her knees wobbling under her.
"Wow, someone's been eating their Wheaties," she fumbled for a quip. "Kind of puts the Mayor in perspective, doesn't it?" The snakey form of Olvikan had been maybe sixty feet high, at a guess; the monster in front of her was at least
four times the size of the erstwhile Richard Wilkins, and probably exponentially heavier. The scale of the thing was just-- unbelievable.
On her left, Spike managed a snort. "'Fraid I missed that battle, luv, more's the pity. You'll have to ask Red to take its measure, if Niblet reaches her in time. Or Illyria-- what do you say, Blue? This an old friend of yours?"
On his other side, a slim young woman with an inhuman stare tossed blue-streaked hair back over her shoulder. "That? Its kind were as foot soldiers to those who squabbled and fought beneath my banner, not even worthy of names of their own."
"That'd be a no, then," Buffy swallowed. "I, uh, don't suppose it would recognize you either? 'Cause groveling; might come in handy right about now."
Illyria curled her lip. Even in the little time Buffy had known Spike's new friend, she'd picked up that the woman slash ancient demon was kinda touchy about how far down she'd come in the world since her imprisonment in the Deeper Well; she normally only tolerated such comments from Spike or Wes, who'd known her since her rebirth. "I was a god to gods, once. But no longer," she said, bitterly. "They must have detected my reawakening-- and moved to strike before I could consolidate my rule."
Buffy didn't quite know what to make of that. She couldn't tell whether the downsized Old One regretted being the likely trigger of so much death and destruction-- or if she was just mourning her loss of power. Either way, it sent shivers up Buffy's back. "So much for the easy way." She sucked in a breath, tightening her grip on the handle of the Scythe. "Where's Godzilla when you need him?"
"Don't whine, Slayer; it's not a good look on you," Spike snarked. "You got any kind of plan? Or d'you just aim to stab at the beastie's ankles until it kneels down and bares its throat?"
"Hell if I know," Buffy shrugged, bleakly. "But the bigger they are, the harder they fall. Right?"
She hoped, anyway. Because if it proved too much to handle--
Well, they probably wouldn't need to know the plural of apocalypse anymore.