Evil's Next Move
Chess. As cliché as it might sound, the game of chess truly is the most challenging, mentally stimulating pastime that the humans ever invented. Naturally, The Master was skeptical about the board and pieces at first, preferring to face his opponents on fields of battle both small and large, rather than sitting across each other over a chessboard, thinking at each other. As he studied the game, though, his opinion began to change. It moved from disdain for a battle that didn't involved bashing one's adversary as hard and as often as possible, to a grudging respect for the tactical minds that played it.
The Master watched as an Indian board game began to gain and notice, and as it slowly drifted its way across the Asian continent to China, where it began to take root and start to change into a form more familiar to the modern observer. The squares took on color, the names of the pieces changed, and the rules were codified. He himself began playing it, studying it. He discovered the pleasure of out-thinking an opponent, of using misdirection and cunning and learned of the great advantages of preparing for war during times of peace.
From then on, The Master's plans became intricate and terrible in their brilliance, and dozens, if not hundreds, of times, their effectiveness was demonstrated in the blood of scores of innocents. He had reveled in his dark genius, and somewhere-- or nowhere-- The First Evil watched and was proud.
The First Evil was decidedly not proud at the moment at what The Master's brood had made of themselves. And so it was it was the leather-clad form of The Master that strode through the hallways of Wolfram & Hart.
"Wasteful," The Master noted, his voice a whispery slur through the jagged grill of pointed teeth he sported. "There is blood to spill, chaos to sow, and what are my children doing? Bickering amongst themselves like a brood of humans."
Pushing through the doors, The Master found the end of his lineage in attendance, minus one-- minus the strange and awful loss of Faith and her power from their part of the war. The Master surveyed his scions and shook his head.
"Angelus... Spike... What the hell is this? I have come to see you both, you fearsome and horrible creatures of the night, cuckolded most effectively by the women."
Though fury shone in Darla's eyes, and angry confusion in Drusilla's and Connor's, The Master stood quietly and casually.
"This is not the plan, my boys, this is not what is wanted. What is wanted is blood, and violence and pain and death-- no necessarily in that order, of course. What is required of you now is focus. Focus, commitment, and a... demonstration."
The voice began to boom inside Angelus' skull, so startlingly loud that the vampire was clutching the sides of his head.
You need to do it, Angelus. You need to be free. No more dealing with the haughty and treacherous Darla. No more will you have the anchor of this Connor, with his attitude and morals and every last bit of moody teenaged morality tying you to the 'Champion' you were.
Angelus rebelled just as The Master expected, the ties of misguided affection still binding him to his sire and his sired. The voice in Angelus' mind grew louder, more insistent until it pressed him down to his knees.
DO IT, ANGELUS. DESTROY THE THING YOU WERE. YOUR DESTINY IS TO BE THE MOST POWERFUL INSTRUMENT OF EVIL EVER TO WALK THE EARTH. YOU MUST DO IT.
As Angelus strained against the force of the will of The First Evil, The Master turned then to Spike.
"Did you really think that the work of The First Evil could be undone by such a simple creature as yourself? That you could free yourself of that leash by your own will? Angelus truly did select you as his inferior."
The Master raised a clawed hand at Spike and smiled cruelly.
"Poor little William. I don't even have to sing... to pull your trigger."
Closing his fingers into a fist, The Master watched as Spike's body jerked like a dog on a chain. Soon, both Spike and Angelus were on their feet, glaring hungrily at Darla, Drusilla and Connor.
"Destroy them," The Master ordered simply, then stood aside to watch.
The Master watched as an Indian board game began to gain and notice, and as it slowly drifted its way across the Asian continent to China, where it began to take root and start to change into a form more familiar to the modern observer. The squares took on color, the names of the pieces changed, and the rules were codified. He himself began playing it, studying it. He discovered the pleasure of out-thinking an opponent, of using misdirection and cunning and learned of the great advantages of preparing for war during times of peace.
From then on, The Master's plans became intricate and terrible in their brilliance, and dozens, if not hundreds, of times, their effectiveness was demonstrated in the blood of scores of innocents. He had reveled in his dark genius, and somewhere-- or nowhere-- The First Evil watched and was proud.
The First Evil was decidedly not proud at the moment at what The Master's brood had made of themselves. And so it was it was the leather-clad form of The Master that strode through the hallways of Wolfram & Hart.
"Wasteful," The Master noted, his voice a whispery slur through the jagged grill of pointed teeth he sported. "There is blood to spill, chaos to sow, and what are my children doing? Bickering amongst themselves like a brood of humans."
Pushing through the doors, The Master found the end of his lineage in attendance, minus one-- minus the strange and awful loss of Faith and her power from their part of the war. The Master surveyed his scions and shook his head.
"Angelus... Spike... What the hell is this? I have come to see you both, you fearsome and horrible creatures of the night, cuckolded most effectively by the women."
Though fury shone in Darla's eyes, and angry confusion in Drusilla's and Connor's, The Master stood quietly and casually.
"This is not the plan, my boys, this is not what is wanted. What is wanted is blood, and violence and pain and death-- no necessarily in that order, of course. What is required of you now is focus. Focus, commitment, and a... demonstration."
The voice began to boom inside Angelus' skull, so startlingly loud that the vampire was clutching the sides of his head.
You need to do it, Angelus. You need to be free. No more dealing with the haughty and treacherous Darla. No more will you have the anchor of this Connor, with his attitude and morals and every last bit of moody teenaged morality tying you to the 'Champion' you were.
Angelus rebelled just as The Master expected, the ties of misguided affection still binding him to his sire and his sired. The voice in Angelus' mind grew louder, more insistent until it pressed him down to his knees.
DO IT, ANGELUS. DESTROY THE THING YOU WERE. YOUR DESTINY IS TO BE THE MOST POWERFUL INSTRUMENT OF EVIL EVER TO WALK THE EARTH. YOU MUST DO IT.
As Angelus strained against the force of the will of The First Evil, The Master turned then to Spike.
"Did you really think that the work of The First Evil could be undone by such a simple creature as yourself? That you could free yourself of that leash by your own will? Angelus truly did select you as his inferior."
The Master raised a clawed hand at Spike and smiled cruelly.
"Poor little William. I don't even have to sing... to pull your trigger."
Closing his fingers into a fist, The Master watched as Spike's body jerked like a dog on a chain. Soon, both Spike and Angelus were on their feet, glaring hungrily at Darla, Drusilla and Connor.
"Destroy them," The Master ordered simply, then stood aside to watch.