To hell with the timeline...
"To hell with the timeline!"
That is what I'd like to say, and frankly, I suspect Wesley feels the same, at this point. Of course, we recognize a greater responsibility. Killing Wilkins now might alleviate some of our pain, but the result might be far, far worse.
It doesn't stop us from considering it, however.
You see, Wesley and I had decided to make our last stand in a series of caves several miles away from downtown Sunnydale. I suspect this might be the same series of caves that housed the Initiative several years ago; however, I cannot be certain without knowing precisely how far we've ridden to escape the demonic forces following us.
Upon entering the caves, we fortified our positions as best we could, then decided to wait out our pursuers, whoever they may be. Someone was following us, that much was certain, but whether they were Wilkins' men or the forces of the El Eliminati was not.
The following day, Wesley and I allowed ourselves to hope that we'd eluded our pursuers, as we'd not been attacked in the night. Our optimism was short-lived, however, when we heard a voice carry through to the caves from the entrance.
Wilkins himself.
He claimed he wanted the Glove of Myneghon in order to broker a truce with the El Eliminati, as his forces and theirs had reached a bloody stalemate in the conflict that Wesley had instigated. Barring that, however, he claimed he would be satisfied with...I believe he said exactly, "our heads on pikes in front of City Hall."
Quite the diplomat, our Mayor Wilkins.
Of course, Wesley and I chose not to surrender ourselves. For one, we never had the Glove in our possession, leaving us unable to meet his first demand. Second, and more obviously, we both valued our heads remaining attached firmly to our bodies, thus rendering his second proposal somewhat moot.
So we braced ourselves for the inevitable attack.
An attack which never came.
That was three days ago.
For three days, Wilkins has woken us up with his defiant shouts into the cave, shouts which have gone unanswered. For three days, Wilkins has promised revenge for humiliating him like this. For three days, Wilkins has regaled us with his own bloated ego.
For three days, Wesley and I have been willing to pay almost any price if the man would only shut up.
Yet, he and his henchmen have remained at the mouth of the cave.
Wesley has two theories. His first theory is that Wilkins, like us, is unsure of the exact layout of the caves, and is thus unwilling to venture inside and risk our escape while he's fumbling about in the dark.
The second theory is that he has some clue as to our origin, and thus wants us alive -- for a little while, at least.
While neither theory will last forever, it is the latter that worries me. If he knows we're not of this era, he might want to use us to gain knowledge of the future. With knowledge of the future, he could very well alter history, ensuring victory during his Ascension.
As such, Wesley and I have made an agreement. The only agreement we could make, given the circumstances.
We've agreed to save two bullets apiece...in the event that all hope seems lost, and we are on the verge of falling into the hands of the enemy.
I fear the time to make good on that agreement may be close at hand...
That is what I'd like to say, and frankly, I suspect Wesley feels the same, at this point. Of course, we recognize a greater responsibility. Killing Wilkins now might alleviate some of our pain, but the result might be far, far worse.
It doesn't stop us from considering it, however.
You see, Wesley and I had decided to make our last stand in a series of caves several miles away from downtown Sunnydale. I suspect this might be the same series of caves that housed the Initiative several years ago; however, I cannot be certain without knowing precisely how far we've ridden to escape the demonic forces following us.
Upon entering the caves, we fortified our positions as best we could, then decided to wait out our pursuers, whoever they may be. Someone was following us, that much was certain, but whether they were Wilkins' men or the forces of the El Eliminati was not.
The following day, Wesley and I allowed ourselves to hope that we'd eluded our pursuers, as we'd not been attacked in the night. Our optimism was short-lived, however, when we heard a voice carry through to the caves from the entrance.
Wilkins himself.
He claimed he wanted the Glove of Myneghon in order to broker a truce with the El Eliminati, as his forces and theirs had reached a bloody stalemate in the conflict that Wesley had instigated. Barring that, however, he claimed he would be satisfied with...I believe he said exactly, "our heads on pikes in front of City Hall."
Quite the diplomat, our Mayor Wilkins.
Of course, Wesley and I chose not to surrender ourselves. For one, we never had the Glove in our possession, leaving us unable to meet his first demand. Second, and more obviously, we both valued our heads remaining attached firmly to our bodies, thus rendering his second proposal somewhat moot.
So we braced ourselves for the inevitable attack.
An attack which never came.
That was three days ago.
For three days, Wilkins has woken us up with his defiant shouts into the cave, shouts which have gone unanswered. For three days, Wilkins has promised revenge for humiliating him like this. For three days, Wilkins has regaled us with his own bloated ego.
For three days, Wesley and I have been willing to pay almost any price if the man would only shut up.
Yet, he and his henchmen have remained at the mouth of the cave.
Wesley has two theories. His first theory is that Wilkins, like us, is unsure of the exact layout of the caves, and is thus unwilling to venture inside and risk our escape while he's fumbling about in the dark.
The second theory is that he has some clue as to our origin, and thus wants us alive -- for a little while, at least.
While neither theory will last forever, it is the latter that worries me. If he knows we're not of this era, he might want to use us to gain knowledge of the future. With knowledge of the future, he could very well alter history, ensuring victory during his Ascension.
As such, Wesley and I have made an agreement. The only agreement we could make, given the circumstances.
We've agreed to save two bullets apiece...in the event that all hope seems lost, and we are on the verge of falling into the hands of the enemy.
I fear the time to make good on that agreement may be close at hand...