Repetition (part 12)
Mr Zoat
Dedicated ragequitter
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12th August 1997
23:29 GMT -7
The fact that the library is called the Sunnydale Library doesn't mean that this is that Sunnydale. America has a line in places with odd names, Jump City being the case in point. Apparently it was a mishearing of a word from the local tribal dialect when the area was first settled by Europeans, though 'Sunnydale' sounds more like a fifties New Town.
If this is that Sunnydale, then was my orange alter-ego's ward set off by the mayor directly, or by whatever area effect thing he has that makes people actually want to live here? Atrocitus was kind enough to give me some basic lessons on blood magic, and I can do a few simple rituals, but anything sophisticated is beyond me. One of the simplest things I can do is blood divination, and that's probably going to be quicker than wandering around at random or asking my ring.
Of course, since I'm a neophyte, what I can actually get out of this is a bit basic.
I raise my hands, calling upon the spirits of the vengeful dead to answer my-
"Ah. Hey."
-call-.
I lower my hands and look at the…
That's Oz. This is that Sunnydale.
So many glorious targets. If the mayor isn't immortal yet then I'm pretty sure I could kill the serial killing monster baiting shit. I mean, the whole 'masquerade' thing barely made sense when it was just Sunnydale and the Hellmouth. Because if magic exists and has existed since human prehistory, on a power level where a few years' study grants the ability to conjure observable phenomena, civilisation should be unrecognisable. At the very least, the knowledge shouldn't be ring fenced like it is here.
I wonder if I can talk Time Trapper or Red Queen into sending me back here?
"Hello." I drift a little closer. "What can I do for you?"
"Are you..? A vampire?"
He sounds more curious than afraid. I land a short distance from him.
"No. I'm a superhero."
"Right. But a superhero who's a vampire, or a superhero who's not a vampire?"
"I'm not a vampire. Though I am looking for an undead. They should look like me, with a black ring?"
"Ah…" He shakes his head. "Haven't seen him."
"Do you know where I might find some undead?"
He manages a small shrug. "Have you..? Tried the graveyard?"
"I wouldn't have thought that established undead would spend much time there." Another small shrug. "Thank you for your suggestion, but I think that I'll leave it as a last resort."
He nods, frowning in thought.
"Are superheroes a thing? 'Cause, I only just started finding out about vampires being a thing. Which makes me think that other things I didn't think were things might be things as well."
"I can't speak for Sunnydale, but if there are people with supernatural or preternatural abilities who devote themselves to the greater good, then yes, even if they don't follow the usual tropes of superheroism. Costumes aren't required, though armour is recommended. I come from a parallel universe so I can't speak for any local colleagues who may or may not exist."
"Huh."
"Well, pleasant talking to you, but I really must-."
Dust and lumps of tarmac explode past me, and I blast a line between me and the impact zone clear! Cars parked on the roads around us get the worst of it: the windows and panelling facing the centre of the blast are smashed and caved, alarms blaring pointlessly into the night.
"Mister Oz, are you alright?"
He takes a moment to check himself over, then brushes off the dust that got past me. "Uh, yeah. Surprisingly, actually."
"Any idea what that was?"
"Ah… No."
I nod. "Ordinarily, I'd suggest running, but since I don't know what it was, I'll leave that up to you."
Pieces of debris that were thrown directly upwards rain down as the dust clouds begin to clear, and through them I see a shape. Humanoid. Clothing seems loose…
"Stupid ground!"
Female voice. Adult. Not in distress. Someone new to super strength navigation? She.. strides out of the clouds. Pale skin, unkempt blonde hair and… Hospital uniform? Bare left foot, and she kicks off what's left of her right shoe a moment later. She doesn't look injured.
She fixes her eyes on me, heading my way at walking pace.
"You."
"How may I be of service?"
"Yes, you, new minion. Open a portal for me."
"Where would you like to go?"
"Home. Back to my own dimension."
"I'm afraid that I can't open that sort of portal myself, but if you like I can ask someone who can if they can help you?"
She stops. "Really? You'd do that for me?"
"Certainly. It doesn't cost me anything to ask. And if it turns out that you're a problem I can always kill you later."
She tilts her head slightly to the left, an open-mouthed smile on her lips.
"Huh. Yeah, about-"
She blurs forward but I'm already shooting upward and her grasping hand narrowly fails to snag my right boot. A dash back and her follow up leap misses.
"-that-."
An energy pulse from me destroys the paving slab she uses as an ersatz projectile and then I've had about enough of her shit. I open my mouth and douse her with a stream of the Butcher's blood, the highly caustic substance melting-.
Her clothes and-.
"Heh."
I just turned her hair from dull blonde to peroxide blonde.
…
All of her hair.
…
I feel my anger falter at the sheer ridiculousness of it, and my flight aura wobbles.
The woman looks at her arm, noticing that the sleeve is gone. Then she checks her body. Then she takes hold of a strand of her hair in her right hand and holds it in front of her eyes.
Then she drops it and glares at me.
"Oh, very mature."
23:29 GMT -7
The fact that the library is called the Sunnydale Library doesn't mean that this is that Sunnydale. America has a line in places with odd names, Jump City being the case in point. Apparently it was a mishearing of a word from the local tribal dialect when the area was first settled by Europeans, though 'Sunnydale' sounds more like a fifties New Town.
If this is that Sunnydale, then was my orange alter-ego's ward set off by the mayor directly, or by whatever area effect thing he has that makes people actually want to live here? Atrocitus was kind enough to give me some basic lessons on blood magic, and I can do a few simple rituals, but anything sophisticated is beyond me. One of the simplest things I can do is blood divination, and that's probably going to be quicker than wandering around at random or asking my ring.
Of course, since I'm a neophyte, what I can actually get out of this is a bit basic.
I raise my hands, calling upon the spirits of the vengeful dead to answer my-
"Ah. Hey."
-call-.
I lower my hands and look at the…
That's Oz. This is that Sunnydale.
So many glorious targets. If the mayor isn't immortal yet then I'm pretty sure I could kill the serial killing monster baiting shit. I mean, the whole 'masquerade' thing barely made sense when it was just Sunnydale and the Hellmouth. Because if magic exists and has existed since human prehistory, on a power level where a few years' study grants the ability to conjure observable phenomena, civilisation should be unrecognisable. At the very least, the knowledge shouldn't be ring fenced like it is here.
I wonder if I can talk Time Trapper or Red Queen into sending me back here?
"Hello." I drift a little closer. "What can I do for you?"
"Are you..? A vampire?"
He sounds more curious than afraid. I land a short distance from him.
"No. I'm a superhero."
"Right. But a superhero who's a vampire, or a superhero who's not a vampire?"
"I'm not a vampire. Though I am looking for an undead. They should look like me, with a black ring?"
"Ah…" He shakes his head. "Haven't seen him."
"Do you know where I might find some undead?"
He manages a small shrug. "Have you..? Tried the graveyard?"
"I wouldn't have thought that established undead would spend much time there." Another small shrug. "Thank you for your suggestion, but I think that I'll leave it as a last resort."
He nods, frowning in thought.
"Are superheroes a thing? 'Cause, I only just started finding out about vampires being a thing. Which makes me think that other things I didn't think were things might be things as well."
"I can't speak for Sunnydale, but if there are people with supernatural or preternatural abilities who devote themselves to the greater good, then yes, even if they don't follow the usual tropes of superheroism. Costumes aren't required, though armour is recommended. I come from a parallel universe so I can't speak for any local colleagues who may or may not exist."
"Huh."
"Well, pleasant talking to you, but I really must-."
Dust and lumps of tarmac explode past me, and I blast a line between me and the impact zone clear! Cars parked on the roads around us get the worst of it: the windows and panelling facing the centre of the blast are smashed and caved, alarms blaring pointlessly into the night.
"Mister Oz, are you alright?"
He takes a moment to check himself over, then brushes off the dust that got past me. "Uh, yeah. Surprisingly, actually."
"Any idea what that was?"
"Ah… No."
I nod. "Ordinarily, I'd suggest running, but since I don't know what it was, I'll leave that up to you."
Pieces of debris that were thrown directly upwards rain down as the dust clouds begin to clear, and through them I see a shape. Humanoid. Clothing seems loose…
"Stupid ground!"
Female voice. Adult. Not in distress. Someone new to super strength navigation? She.. strides out of the clouds. Pale skin, unkempt blonde hair and… Hospital uniform? Bare left foot, and she kicks off what's left of her right shoe a moment later. She doesn't look injured.
She fixes her eyes on me, heading my way at walking pace.
"You."
"How may I be of service?"
"Yes, you, new minion. Open a portal for me."
"Where would you like to go?"
"Home. Back to my own dimension."
"I'm afraid that I can't open that sort of portal myself, but if you like I can ask someone who can if they can help you?"
She stops. "Really? You'd do that for me?"
"Certainly. It doesn't cost me anything to ask. And if it turns out that you're a problem I can always kill you later."
She tilts her head slightly to the left, an open-mouthed smile on her lips.
"Huh. Yeah, about-"
She blurs forward but I'm already shooting upward and her grasping hand narrowly fails to snag my right boot. A dash back and her follow up leap misses.
"-that-."
An energy pulse from me destroys the paving slab she uses as an ersatz projectile and then I've had about enough of her shit. I open my mouth and douse her with a stream of the Butcher's blood, the highly caustic substance melting-.
Her clothes and-.
"Heh."
I just turned her hair from dull blonde to peroxide blonde.
…
All of her hair.
…
I feel my anger falter at the sheer ridiculousness of it, and my flight aura wobbles.
The woman looks at her arm, noticing that the sleeve is gone. Then she checks her body. Then she takes hold of a strand of her hair in her right hand and holds it in front of her eyes.
Then she drops it and glares at me.
"Oh, very mature."
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