South Central

The young, Asian woman in a long, black coat turned down the alley, but she quickly found it was a dead end. She heard the sounds before her and turned, her back pressed up against the wall. A group of four young black men, dressed in blue, blocked her only exit.

“Look what we got here,” said one of them, stepping towards her. “You a long way from Chinatown, girl.”

The girl took the purse hanging from her arm and held it out to them, turning her head to the side. “Please, just take it!”

“Don’t want your money, sweet thang. Want somethin’ else.” The leader’s lips parted to reveal a grinning set of teeth, teeth which included a pair of fangs, and his eyes were now red. His fellow gang members also had similar appearances.

The girl’s initial fear now seemed to become delight. She lowered the handbag and smiled herself. “It’s about time.”

The four vampires appeared surprised. “What?”

“Do you know how long I’ve been wandering these streets, waiting for you idiots to turn up?” She dropped the handbag and threw off her trench coat. Beneath it, she wore a leather outfit, and affixed to her belt were a pair of sheathed daggers. A bandolier of wooden stakes was wrapped around her chest. Also hanging from it via a leather thong was a silver sickle. “Oh, and I’m Japanese, by the way.”

“Girl, you been watchin’ too much Buffy,” the leader scoffed. “But if you wanna play, then we gonna play.”

He charged towards her and she quickly drew the sickle, continuing in a fluid motion that ended with his head cleanly removed from his shoulders. His body collapsed and his friends watched in horror. But the woman just smiled at them, swinging her sickle to shake the blood off its edge.

“GET HER!” one of them shouted. But then they paused when they heard the revving of a motorcycle engine. It grew louder and a spotlight illuminated the alley. The biker was charging right for them. They dodged from the path, but one of them wasn’t so lucky, as the biker sliced him in two at his waist with a silver katana blade.

The bike swerved to a stop in the alley and the rider dismounted. Removing the helmet revealed her to be the other woman’s twin, but whereas the sickle-wielder had her long hair hanging loose and free, the biker had hers tied up in a bun.

“I told you I’d handle this myself, Mikado,” said the one with the sickle.

<“I was getting bored waiting for you,”> said Mikado in Japanese. <“Your plans take too long, Mosha.”>

There were now two vampires left. One charged at Mosha, and she managed to evade his clumsy attempts to strike her with grace and speed. “English, sister. We’re in America now.” Mosha drew her dagger and jammed it beneath the vampire’s chin. The blade went straight through his head and then she pulled it out just as she beheaded him with the sickle.

<“I hate the way English tastes on my tongue.”> Mikado crouched as the fourth came at her. She flipped over him, and swung her katana, beheading him like the others.

Mosha sighed while wiping her blades before sheathing them. “We needed one of them alive.”

<“I know.”> Mikado twirled the katana, shaking off blood, then sliding it into the scabbard held to her back. She pointed a gloved finger at the vampire she’d cut in two. He was still alive, trying to crawl over to his legs in a futile attempt to reattach himself. <“Until he’s stabbed in the heart, beheaded, or set aflame, he lives.”>

Mosha sighed and sauntered over to the surviving creature. “Sometimes I worry about you, sister.”

<“You’re just jealous of my…”> Mikado paused with a smirk and then said in accented English, “…mad skills.”

Mosha cringed. “I told you to stop watching MTV.” She knelt down in front of the vampire. “It’s time for us to have a little chat. About the Devil’s Dust.”

NIGHTFALL

Part I

By Dino Pollard

“…and for the night’s final story, former Avenger and current Champion, Hercules, signed autographs and posed for pictures outside LA’s hottest new night club. Dressed in a specially-tailored Hugo Boss casual suit, the Prince of Power bested members of the Lakers in a drinking contest before dancing the night away with some lucky la—”

Vance Astrovik stood at the kitchen counter, overhearing the TV in the other room, shaking his head with a smile. He filled a wine glass with red wine and took a bottle from the refrigerator. Holding the drinks with both hands, he glanced at the cabinet over the counter and the doors opened. A bag of microwavable popcorn flew from the cabinet and hovered beside him.

“Okay, you’ve had your fun, now turn it off,” he said when he entered the room. His fiancée, Angelica Jones, was sprawled out on the couch in front of the TV. While tossing him a flirty glance, she turned up the volume.

“C’mon Angel, I’ve had enough of Champions talk…”

“Too bad,” said the young mutant. “I wanna know more about Herc’s celebrity lifestyle.”

Vance sighed and set the drinks and the popcorn on the coffee table. Angelica moved her legs so he could sit and once Vance was on the couch, she swung them back over on his lap. She reached for the wine and began sipping it, noticing his drink.

“Root beer?” she asked.

“Phil’s on monitor duty tonight and I’m on-call in case something comes up,” said Vance.

“Uh-huh…” Angelica’s tone indicated she wasn’t buying it. “Are you really on-call, or are you just too nervous to let your guard down for a night?”

Vance blushed slightly, but he changed the subject, using his telekinesis to snatch the remote from her hand.

“Hey!”

It hovered into his waiting hand and he smiled as he began flipping through the channels. “Ah, there we go.”

“I was watching that, you dick!” Angelica playfully slapped him on his arm.

“I’m gonna hear all about it tomorrow directly from Herc’s mouth,” said Vance. “He never passes up a chance to boast.”

“Fine.” She pouted slightly and sipped her wine.

Vance reached for the popcorn and handed it to her. “Think you can nuke that for me?”

“No,” she said. “You wouldn’t let me watch my show, so you can nuke it yourself.”

“But you don’t have a microwave!”

“That’s because I don’t need one.” Angelica smirked, holding up her finger and generating a small glow of microwave energy.

“Please?” he asked, faking as if he were about to cry.

“Will you let me watch what I want to watch?”

Vance sighed and flipped back to the channel she was watching. “Fine.”

“Great!” Angelica practically bounced, taking the popcorn from him and holding it between her hands. Within seconds, the kernels inside began popping with rapid frequency, inflating the bag quickly. She pulled it open and passed it to him, the buttered scent flowing into the air. “Trade you.”

Vance gave her the remote and took the popcorn. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” she said. After watching for a few moments in silence, she turned the volume down a bit. “How are things going with the team anyway? You almost never talk about it.”

“I guess I just assumed you didn’t want to hear about it,” said Vance. “You left the team because you needed a break, so I thought you were a little upset that I accepted Warren’s offer.”

“I wanted a break from the superhero life, yeah, but that doesn’t mean I’m not interested in how you’re doing,” said Angelica. “I almost never see you anymore. Not only do you live at the Tower, but you spend almost all your time there, too.”

“Well I’m the leader, what do you expect?”

“I dunno, to have a life outside?” asked Angelica. “We’ve already pushed back the wedding date with all this and you keep changing the subject whenever I ask when we should set the new date.”

Vance sighed and drank his root beer. Angelica sat up, turning off the TV and facing him. “You do still want to get married, don’t you?”

He nearly choked on the drink and tossed her a look of shock and hurt. “Of course I do! But…”

“But what?”

He sighed again. “I just…I’ve got a lot of things to worry about right now. After the whole incident with Coldheart and Speedfreek, then there was that thing with the Demogoblin…things have just been a little crazy. The Champions need to get back on our feet is all.”

“And what about us? When are we gonna get back on our feet?” asked Angelica.

He gave no answer and Angelica gave an exasperated chuckle. “I can’t believe it. You really are just totally obsessed with this life, aren’t you? I thought when we left the Avengers, you were willing to finally take a break. Then Thrash comes calling and—”

“Hold on, you agreed to that, too!” he said, pointing at her. “And when Thrash said he wanted to relocate out west, we talked about it.You were fine with it!”

“That was then. Things are different now,” said Angelica. “I want to finish school, get a job. Get away from all the costumes and the villains and the craziness. I thought you did, too.”

“You just don’t get it, Angel.” Vance stared at the bottle as he picked at the label with his fingernails. “When I found out I was a mutant, all I wanted was to be an Avenger, be a superhero. So that I could protect people in the way that no one protected me.”

She reached a hand on his shoulder and rubbed it gently. “I’m sorry. But you can’t take all that on yourself. I thought you’d have learned by now that everyone needs to take some time off. You can’t do this twenty-four/seven.”

“No, I’m sorry.” He stood.

“Where are you going?” asked Angelica.

“I should…go. Check on Phil. He’s been pretty quiet after the number the Demogoblin did on him.” He leaned down and kissed her gently on her forehead. “I’ll call you later.”

Angelica watched as her fiancé collected the popcorn and his drink, taking them into the kitchen to dispose of them. A few moments later, she heard the front door of her apartment open and then shut. She sunk into the couch and turned on the television once more. Now they were discussing superhero fashion and the many outfits of the Wasp.

“Smooth, Angel. Real smooth.”

Champion Tower

Phil Urich sat at the monitor banks with a Bluetooth device clipped to his ear. On the monitor was a map of Los Angeles pinpointing a location and the police band played over the computer’s speakers. “Yeah, over in South Central,” he said. “Looks like some Crips were attacked, but this seems to be a bit more…brutal than your typical gang hit.”

“Right, we’ll have a look. Ketch out.”

With the transmission cut, Phil turned his attention to other potential issues. The Champions were still dealing with some of the fallout caused by Coldheart’s attempts to damage their reputation, and so the team agreed it’d be best to redouble their efforts and focus on other crimes beyond the supervillain variety.

The sound of the automatic doors opening registered to Phil, but he kept his eyes glued to the monitor. “Back already, Herc? Would’ve thought you’d still be enjoying a night on the—” He silenced himself when he glanced over his shoulder and saw not Hercules, but the team’s leader. “—town? Vance? Thought you were staying with Angelica tonight?”

“How are things going?” asked Vance, using his telekinetic abilities to fly over to Phil. “Anything interesting going on?”

“Jubilee’s in Paris, something about some old friends needing a hand. Got Dan investigating a quadruple homicide, Sil’s out on patrol, and Herc is…well…”

“Being Herc?” asked Vance with a light grin.

“Pretty much,” said Phil. “Guess it’s pretty sad that save for him, not a one of us has managed to take a night off.”

“Tell me more about this homicide,” said Vance.

“Let me patch you through to them.”

“Motorcycle tracks,” said Ketch, kneeling down in the South Central alley. Their Champions status meant they were considered official consultants by the LAPD, which made things easier for him at the moment.

Standing over Ketch was a plain-clothes detective. “Crips and Bloods have been at each other’s throats for a long time, but don’t think I’ve ever seen something like this. All decapitated,” said the detective. “One guy was cut clear in two before they chopped off his head. How the hell do you even do that?”

Ketch turned over one of the heads. The Bluetooth earpiece started buzzing and he activated it with a push of the button. “That you, Goblin?”

“Yeah, I’ve got Justice here. He’s curious how things are progressing.”

“All I know right now is that whoever did this, judging by the tracks, made something of an entrance. But other than that…” Ketch paused while examining the head. He’d had his hand on the mouth, gripping the head while he studied the cut. It was a smooth one, but more than that, he felt something of a prick on his hand. Ketch parted the lips and saw the fangs there. “Well I’ll be damned…”

“What is it?” asked the detective.

“Looks like this is Champion business.” Ketch stood and addressed the detective. “Far as the press is concerned, this is just a simple gangland hit. Get these bodies out of here right away.”

The detective nodded. “Sure thing. By the way, really appreciate all the work you guys are doin’ out here. None of us down at the precinct believed any of that bull they’ve been sayin’ on TV.”

“Thanks,” said Ketch. He addressed Phil now. “You’re gonna want to get in touch with Sil. Looks like we’ve got some remnants from that whole vampire thing. And what’s more, seems there’s a hunter in town. But what’s weird is that these vampires didn’t turn to ash after they were killed.”

While on a nightly patrol, Silhouette detected something strange about the man she was following. He was young and dressed in red clothing. Her vampiric senses told her there was something not quite right about him. She knew he wasn’t human, but he also wasn’t quite vampire, for that matter.

She stalked him on the rooftops, transporting herself through the shadows down to street-level when necessary. Silhouette had locked onto his scent, but if he were a vampire, he didn’t seem to be very aware of his surroundings. Tailing him was almost too easy for the mutant-vampire hybrid Silhouette had become.

Down another alley, and he came to a back entrance of a warehouse and banged on the metal door. Silhouette pressed up against the wall, melting into the shadows just as he turned, perhaps detecting something amiss. But he shrugged when the door opened and went inside.

Silhouette transported herself inside the warehouse, and she noticed something quite odd. The young men who were gathered were dressed in the gang colors of both the Crips and the Bloods. Although oddly enough, they weren’t at each other’s throats. Instead, they were all milling about together.

Some sort of party was going on here. A thick cloud of smoke filled the air, and a few were snorting lines of what would have been crack cocaine, except for its black color. And what they were drinking was definitely not alcohol, given its dark red color.

Vampires. It was a grouping of vampires. Silhouette thought they’d all been dealt with, but it seemed some remained. What’s more, they seemed to be planning something. Organizing. But who was in charge?

The music was turned off and a loud voice echoed throughout the warehouse, drawing all attention over to him. Silhouette’s eyes followed those of the gang members. The voice had a Jamaican accent and it belonged to a man dressed in a tribal vest and khakis. He wore an elaborate necklace and his hair was braided into dreadlocks. By his side was another black man wearing sunglasses, also with dreadlocks. And the man’s other companion is one who took her breath away.

“Together, we can create a new world! You’ve all gotten a taste so far of it, and there will be more to come once we get this stuff out on the streets!” said the Jamaican. He held up a plastic-wrapped package of black powder. “Steppin’ Razor, he come to bring you the Devil’s Dust!”

They all cheered Steppin’ Razor’s words. But what worried Silhouette wasn’t the Devil’s Dust or Steppin’ Razor himself. But rather, it was the third man. Dressed in black armor with a red trim, and apparently standing with Steppin’ Razor.

It was none other than her ex-boyfriend, Dwayne Taylor. He’d been missing in action for some time, but now, Silhouette was staring at Night Thrasher. Working as part of a vampire gang.

To be continued…