A Tape For Hannibal (Tag: Any hunter, really. As long as it gets to Hannibal King)
"If they get ahold of you, it'll all be over. There'll be armies of the motherfuckers." ~Whistler
A day past. Two. A week. More. Frost's splattered remains from where Wolverine had attached a fucking bomb to his leg covered what remained of Vivian's apartment. During the day, they sizzled just a little. During the evening, they inched together, congealed, and began to look like less of a mess. This wasn't as hard as it had been after Blade had blew him apart with EDTA. There he'd had to cleanse himself at a molecular level and come together. Here, there were bigger pieces to work with. Not to mention people. Frost didn't fuck with the investigators who came to the scene and roped it off. But when anyone happened to pass too closely by...the old bag that lived three doors down from Vivian, for example...they died horribly as their blood was ripped from their bodies and used to empower Frost in coming together more quickly. Why they didn't fucking clean him up and immediately get on repairs, he didn't know. Maybe this place was such a fucking dump nobody cared. Of course, it wasn't bad. But it wasn't upscale New York, that was for sure. If they had put him all in one place, that might have made it easier. But what the fuck ever.
On the eleventh night, Frost flowed together into his normal form and stood up. He was nude and he was fucking pissed off. His eye was one thing. His club was an other. But fucking blowing him up? No way was he fucking sitting on his thumbs any more and taking this shit. It was time to show this little band of wannabe vigilantes that they weren't going up against a bunch of dumb storm trooper extras in a fucking Star Wars movie. This was real life and death. He knew where their holes were now. It was time to do something about it.
***
Calls were made. Units were assembled. Soon there were easily fifty vampires in gear a SWAT team would be envious of ready to move in on a hunter base. It was one that he had first observed and made sure still existed. After all, Vivian's information could have not been totally current as she warned him. But either these were fucking stupid hunters or they thought that since they weren't King's particular pack, they were safe. Wrong. He didn't want King. Or the new Whistler. Or even that fucking short little meathead that blew him up. No, he just wanted to make them hurt. He wanted to make them hurt bad. He wanted to send them a loud and clear message. Maybe they would run away, but he doubted it. Likely it would piss them off, make them try to attack his much more heavily fortified clubs and get their asses kicked. Hell, maybe they might even try some kind of shitty last stand that he could wipe them out during and show the world what pathetic losers they were.
The squad leaders each called in ready. Frost listened on his headpiece and remained silent for several moments, regarding the quiet hunter base. He knew they were in there. It had been verified. The only one that had left in the past six hours was being held in Van 6. It was almost cathartic..this calm before the storm. He was the predator contemplating his prey. There was something nice about that. He was part of the cycle of life or some shit, only he was on top.
"Do your thing. But remember, leave twelve of them alive for me. And have some fucking fun with it."
The crews moved in.
***
A tape was left at the scene in a 'secret' storage alcove that the authorities would not have found when picking through what was left of the mess. Normally Frost wouldn't have even made enough of a show to attract the authorities, but here he felt that somebody's attention needed to be got fairly quickly. A news story about an FBI sting on a drug house gone horribly bad should do the trick. He owned the authorities; he could write the script for what the people at home saw. But the hunters would recognize their base. The tape was addressed to Hannibal King, as that was the only one he'd had any extended contact with. Hell, it was the only fucking one he'd been properly introduced to. When played, this was what was on the tape:
Static. Then, there was Deacon's face right in the screen.
"This thing on?" He tapped the side of the camera a few times just to be an ass and then pulled back a little. "Hey. King, right? Meant to tell ya, that's one helluva name. Your mom must have known you were going to hunt vampires one day. Either that or fucking star in porn. Too bad you weren't pretty enough, right? Heh. Oh, hey. The sun's coming up. Let's enjoy the sunrise together. Share a fucking moment."
Frost put on a motorcycle helmet and closed the UV protective visor and stepped out of the screen. In a moment the camera moved and focused in on the outter wall of the hunter base. Twelve of the hunters, one of them a kid, were crucified to the wall with silvery stakes through their hands. They writhed weakly against bricks, but they had no strength from the beating and torture they'd received to resist much. Every single one had a distinctive pallor to them. As the world grew a little brighter, they all hissed and their fangs could then be clearly seen as their flesh began to smoke a little. Then the line of the rising sun went down against the wall and illuminated them fully, causing them to all scream in unison as they whipped back and forth on the stakes and burst into flames. Flesh melted away from bone and bone turned to ash, but it was a long, excrutiating process. The little boy was the last to die since he was the shortest. He got to see his friends and family dying horribly first. Finally, when it was done, the camera moved to a shadier area and Frost's head came back into the picture as he lifted the visor.
"Jesus Christ, that was fucking painful. I hate seeing vampires die. Well actually I don't give a shit. Some vampires fucking deserve to die just like some people. But that's not the point. Actually I'm wondering how you felt about that. Did you shed a tear? Or did you laugh and grin and fucking live it up? Were they my people or were they yours? You tell me. Fuck, I'm just trying to get inside your head. See how you tick. It really makes me curious sometimes to be perfectly honest with you.
Anyways, down to business. I'm sure you'd like to know why this little display had to take place. I wasn't doing it just for kicks. See, I don't really like being shot in the eye or blown the fuck up. But what really pisses me off are your little raids on my establishments. Jesus fuck, live and let live, why don'tcha? Well, consider yourself fucking warned. You take out a club of mine, I'll fuck up a base of yours. An eye for a fucking eye, so to speak. I'm sure you're little girlfriend will understand that. Speaking of whom, I want her. I want to fucking do that eye for an eye thing literally. Wonder if she'll regrow hers like I did? Hell, I want your little hairy friend too. But here's a hint...if you lie low, maybe slink out of the city...I'll forget about you. I've got bigger and better things to be concerned with. Hope you take that advice to heart for your own sake."
Frost looked down at his watch and then his head turned to the side to look in the direction of the base. "Oh, shit, here comes the best part. Don't want to fucking miss that, right?"
The camera was turned around to focus on the base again. Several seconds past uneventfully, and then the place exploded into flames. After that the picture went to static as the camera was shut off.
A day past. Two. A week. More. Frost's splattered remains from where Wolverine had attached a fucking bomb to his leg covered what remained of Vivian's apartment. During the day, they sizzled just a little. During the evening, they inched together, congealed, and began to look like less of a mess. This wasn't as hard as it had been after Blade had blew him apart with EDTA. There he'd had to cleanse himself at a molecular level and come together. Here, there were bigger pieces to work with. Not to mention people. Frost didn't fuck with the investigators who came to the scene and roped it off. But when anyone happened to pass too closely by...the old bag that lived three doors down from Vivian, for example...they died horribly as their blood was ripped from their bodies and used to empower Frost in coming together more quickly. Why they didn't fucking clean him up and immediately get on repairs, he didn't know. Maybe this place was such a fucking dump nobody cared. Of course, it wasn't bad. But it wasn't upscale New York, that was for sure. If they had put him all in one place, that might have made it easier. But what the fuck ever.
On the eleventh night, Frost flowed together into his normal form and stood up. He was nude and he was fucking pissed off. His eye was one thing. His club was an other. But fucking blowing him up? No way was he fucking sitting on his thumbs any more and taking this shit. It was time to show this little band of wannabe vigilantes that they weren't going up against a bunch of dumb storm trooper extras in a fucking Star Wars movie. This was real life and death. He knew where their holes were now. It was time to do something about it.
***
Calls were made. Units were assembled. Soon there were easily fifty vampires in gear a SWAT team would be envious of ready to move in on a hunter base. It was one that he had first observed and made sure still existed. After all, Vivian's information could have not been totally current as she warned him. But either these were fucking stupid hunters or they thought that since they weren't King's particular pack, they were safe. Wrong. He didn't want King. Or the new Whistler. Or even that fucking short little meathead that blew him up. No, he just wanted to make them hurt. He wanted to make them hurt bad. He wanted to send them a loud and clear message. Maybe they would run away, but he doubted it. Likely it would piss them off, make them try to attack his much more heavily fortified clubs and get their asses kicked. Hell, maybe they might even try some kind of shitty last stand that he could wipe them out during and show the world what pathetic losers they were.
The squad leaders each called in ready. Frost listened on his headpiece and remained silent for several moments, regarding the quiet hunter base. He knew they were in there. It had been verified. The only one that had left in the past six hours was being held in Van 6. It was almost cathartic..this calm before the storm. He was the predator contemplating his prey. There was something nice about that. He was part of the cycle of life or some shit, only he was on top.
"Do your thing. But remember, leave twelve of them alive for me. And have some fucking fun with it."
The crews moved in.
***
A tape was left at the scene in a 'secret' storage alcove that the authorities would not have found when picking through what was left of the mess. Normally Frost wouldn't have even made enough of a show to attract the authorities, but here he felt that somebody's attention needed to be got fairly quickly. A news story about an FBI sting on a drug house gone horribly bad should do the trick. He owned the authorities; he could write the script for what the people at home saw. But the hunters would recognize their base. The tape was addressed to Hannibal King, as that was the only one he'd had any extended contact with. Hell, it was the only fucking one he'd been properly introduced to. When played, this was what was on the tape:
Static. Then, there was Deacon's face right in the screen.
"This thing on?" He tapped the side of the camera a few times just to be an ass and then pulled back a little. "Hey. King, right? Meant to tell ya, that's one helluva name. Your mom must have known you were going to hunt vampires one day. Either that or fucking star in porn. Too bad you weren't pretty enough, right? Heh. Oh, hey. The sun's coming up. Let's enjoy the sunrise together. Share a fucking moment."
Frost put on a motorcycle helmet and closed the UV protective visor and stepped out of the screen. In a moment the camera moved and focused in on the outter wall of the hunter base. Twelve of the hunters, one of them a kid, were crucified to the wall with silvery stakes through their hands. They writhed weakly against bricks, but they had no strength from the beating and torture they'd received to resist much. Every single one had a distinctive pallor to them. As the world grew a little brighter, they all hissed and their fangs could then be clearly seen as their flesh began to smoke a little. Then the line of the rising sun went down against the wall and illuminated them fully, causing them to all scream in unison as they whipped back and forth on the stakes and burst into flames. Flesh melted away from bone and bone turned to ash, but it was a long, excrutiating process. The little boy was the last to die since he was the shortest. He got to see his friends and family dying horribly first. Finally, when it was done, the camera moved to a shadier area and Frost's head came back into the picture as he lifted the visor.
"Jesus Christ, that was fucking painful. I hate seeing vampires die. Well actually I don't give a shit. Some vampires fucking deserve to die just like some people. But that's not the point. Actually I'm wondering how you felt about that. Did you shed a tear? Or did you laugh and grin and fucking live it up? Were they my people or were they yours? You tell me. Fuck, I'm just trying to get inside your head. See how you tick. It really makes me curious sometimes to be perfectly honest with you.
Anyways, down to business. I'm sure you'd like to know why this little display had to take place. I wasn't doing it just for kicks. See, I don't really like being shot in the eye or blown the fuck up. But what really pisses me off are your little raids on my establishments. Jesus fuck, live and let live, why don'tcha? Well, consider yourself fucking warned. You take out a club of mine, I'll fuck up a base of yours. An eye for a fucking eye, so to speak. I'm sure you're little girlfriend will understand that. Speaking of whom, I want her. I want to fucking do that eye for an eye thing literally. Wonder if she'll regrow hers like I did? Hell, I want your little hairy friend too. But here's a hint...if you lie low, maybe slink out of the city...I'll forget about you. I've got bigger and better things to be concerned with. Hope you take that advice to heart for your own sake."
Frost looked down at his watch and then his head turned to the side to look in the direction of the base. "Oh, shit, here comes the best part. Don't want to fucking miss that, right?"
The camera was turned around to focus on the base again. Several seconds past uneventfully, and then the place exploded into flames. After that the picture went to static as the camera was shut off.