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r4punz3lTitle: Vampires vs. Zombies PRT
Chapter Rating: R, for language and gore
Chapter Summary: In which our heroes approach the enemy stronghold, and Beck tries to stop them.
Disclaimer: #NotIntendedToBeAFactualStatement
All television shows, movies, books, and other copyrighted material referred to in this work, and the characters, settings, and events thereof, are the properties of their respective owners. As this work is an interpretation of the original material and not for-profit, it constitutes fair use. Reference to real persons, places, or events are made in a fictional context, and are not intended to be libelous, defamatory, or in any way factual.
Word Count: ~1900
Author's Note: Beta’d by the wonderfulthemistoklis.
Previous chapters
Chapter 28
“No!” Beck screamed. “How in the hell do they keep doing that?” He threw himself into his desk chair and stared angrily at his computer. On the surface, a map of New York was nothing to get so upset about. But Beck was using it to track Rachel Maddow’s movements. He was pretty sure she had met up with those liberal clowns from Comedy Central. He knew she was coming for him.
“What’s going on?” a low voice asked. Beck looked up, and forced himself not to shiver.
Demetrius stood in the doorway, looking in at him. Curiously, he did not enter. Instead, he stood as if balanced on the edge of the curb, right outside Beck’s office.
“Nothing,” Beck said. “It’s just that some of these survivors are harder to get rid of than I expected.”
“Ah, humanity,” Demetrius said, smiling slowly. “So stubborn. Well, don’t exhaust yourself,” the dark one continued. “You’ll need to keep your strength up.”
“Of course,” Beck said. Then he frowned. “What for?”
“For the final battle, of course,” Demetrius said. “I know you have enemies, Mr. Beck. And I know that they are coming for you.”
Beck did shiver this time. “Of course,” he repeated.
“I’m looking forward to it,” Demetrius said, practically slithering away. Beck waited until he was gone before slumping over his desk.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he swore. “Maddow, you cannot make it here. I don’t know what they’ll do to me, if you do,” he added softly.
&&&
Rachel Maddow frowned. “Did you say something?” she asked. Stephen was sitting in the passenger seat, as far from Ivy as he could get. Rebecca had demanded that Stephen change seats after he and Ivy had had a twenty-minute discussion about elves.
“No,” Stephen said. “Everybody’s asleep.”
Rachel glanced back. Sure enough, everyone had fallen asleep. Fighting zombies all the time was exhausting.
“I could have sworn,” Rachel said softly. A thought fluttered against her mind, but as she tried to catch it, it faded away. “Oh, well.” She pulled over and stopped the van.
“We’re here?” Stephen asked.
“This is as far as we can drive. The Army seems to have disappeared, but they left some serious roadblocks. We have to walk.”
“Why did we stop?” Ivy asked, here eyes still closed.
“Time to walk,” Stephen said quietly.
“Good,” Rebecca said, stretching. “I am sick of being in the car.” She climbed out of the van, Adam following her without a word.
“Come on, Jon,” Stephen said. He reached out and squeezed Jon’s hand. “Time to go.”
Jon sighed, and opened his eyes. “I was afraid of that,” he said. He got out of the car, and adjusted his jacket. Stephen saw a metallic flash near the other man’s belt.
“You still have that?” he asked quietly.
Jon turned to look at him. “Yeah,” he said. “Went through hell to get it. Figured I may as well take it back to hell with me.”
“We’re going to be fine,” Stephen said.
“I’m glad you think so,” Jon said. “You think positive, and I’ll worry about everything. Just like always.”
“Come on, you guys,” Rachel called. “Let’s move.”
The six adventurers, as Stephen dubbed them, walked carefully down the middle of the street, staying well out of reach of anything hiding.
“So how are we going to do this?” Ivy asked. “How do we kill Glenn Beck?”
“Shoot him,” Jon said flatly, detouring around a pothole filled with…some sort of fluid.
“Will that be enough to stop the zombies?” Rebecca asked. “Or will that just make them mindless and easier to kill?”
“They have us outnumbered no matter what,” Adam pointed out. “Even if we kill Beck, there’s still going to be a hell of a fight.”
“I’m not so sure shooting him will do the trick,” Rachel said. “I mean, he’s like me. He’s a vampire.”
“But you haven’t died,” Stephen said. “Have you?”
“No,” Rachel said quickly. “God, no. But what if we kill him, and he comes back as undead. Then he’ll be really hard to kill.”
“If we killed the vampire who made him,” Ivy said thoughtfully. “That might be enough to change him back.”
“Who wants him back?” Rebecca said. “Ivy, this guy poisoned your dad’s mind for years. He indirectly made your life at home a living hell. Why would you want him changed back? Don’t you want him dead?”
“I did,” Ivy said. “But that’s not enough. Once he’s dead, he’s dead. That’s it. He will be past any other torment. And I want that bastard to suffer for a long, long time.”
“Wow,” Jon said quietly. “Remind me to never get on your bad side.”
“Never get on Ivy’s bad side,” Rebecca and Adam said at once.
“Thanks,” Jon said dryly.
“Will they be expecting us, do you think?” Stephen asked Rachel.
Rachel shrugged. “I can tell where Beck is,” she said. “If I concentrate, I can see him in my head. As it is, I can follow his trail now. I’m sure he can do the same to me.”
“Could you talk to him?” Stephen asked. “If he surrenders…”
“I don’t think his surrender will do much good,” Rachel said. “We have to cut him off from his power, or else he can take over again any time he wants.”
“So, dead it is, then,” Rebecca said. “Sounds good to me.”
Jon glanced at Stephen. Stephen just shrugged back. “Gollum couldn’t give up the Ring,” he said.
“Of course!” Ivy cried. “Beck is Gollum. That makes more sense. But then,” she added. “Who’s Saruman? And who’s Sauron?”
“Is it a good thing or a bad thing that I have no idea what you are talking about?” Rachel asked.
“A good thing,” Jon said.
After a few more blocks, they came to the first roadblock. It was probably accidental—the Army didn’t usually just leave tanks lying around—but it completely blocked the street and most of the sidewalk on either side.
“What do you think?” Rachel asked, as she came to a stop in front of the tank. “Find a way around, or right over the top?”
“Over the top would be faster,” Rebecca said.
“Right on top makes us nice targets,” Ivy countered.
“Can we just take the tank and drive it?” Adam asked.
“I think it’s broken,” Stephen said, approaching the tank. He walked along it for a bit, and then stopped. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “It’s broken.”
Jon frowned, and followed Stephen. The far side of the tank had been torn open. Blood smeared the side of the armored vehicle, and bits of bone and flesh filled the cracks and dents made in the metal. The outside looked bad. The inside was worse.
Inside were parts of the tank crew. Black boots, with amputated limbs still inside them were strewn over the floor. Blood and other matter were splattered everywhere. A lone eye, still attached to the optic nerve, stared blankly at Jon. It was brown. Jon was green. He swallowed hard, and turned away.
“Over the top,” Stephen said. “We need to get out of here as fast as we can.”
Rebecca was already clambering up the treads. She got up, steadying herself, and reached down to pull Adam up behind her, when there was a loud “crack.”
Adam startled at the sound, and fell, dragging Rebecca with him. “What the hell was that?” she asked, unhooking her crowbar from her belt.
“Was that gunfire?” Ivy asked, crouching next to the tank.
“Rachel?” Jon asked.
“I can’t tell,” Rachel said. “The shooter isn’t dead, or a vampire. I can’t tell who’s out there.”
“Hey!” Stephen yelled. “Hey, don’t shoot! We’re the good guys.”
“Yeah, we just left our white hats at home,” Ivy muttered. Rebecca elbowed her.
There was no reply to Stephen’s shout. No returning shout, no renewed gunfire, nothing.
“Maybe it was a fluke,” Stephen suggested. “Something going off by accident, just as Rebecca climbed up?”
“This close to Beck?” Jon said. “I really doubt that.”
“Come on,” Rachel said. “The longer we stay still, the easier we’ll be to find. Up and over, fast. Then take cover on the other side.”
&&&
Beck moaned in frustration. It hadn’t worked. That stupid Maddow woman could call zombies of her own, so Beck had changed his attack. He had ordered one zombie, an Army sergeant based on his uniform, and sent it to shoot the leader of Rachel’s little band. Rachel had been leading, so she should have been the first one over the tank. Instead, it was some stupid teenage girl, and his agent hadn’t even hit her!
Beck’s face twisted with rage. Why was it so hard to kill them? Only Maddow had gotten the flu shot, and really, that should have made her his puppet. But it wasn’t, and she was clearly better at calling and ordering zombies. The fact that she might be treating them more as fans, and asking nicely, did not occur to him.
“How’s it going?”
Beck started, and saw O’Reilly standing in the doorway. Unlike Demetrius, he was half in the office, and half in the hallway. “Don’t sneak up on people like that,” he snapped.
“Don’t leave the door open,” O’Reilly countered. “If you want to concentrate, and don’t want to be startled by people walking by, close your door.”
“What are you doing here, Bill?” Beck asked tiredly. He rubbed his eyes and slumped back in his chair.
“I don’t know,” O’Reilly replied. “What am I doing here, Glenn? It isn’t safe outside, I don’t know where any of my family or friends are in this mess, and Orly’s weird friend is either trying to seduce me, or eat me. I really shouldn’t be here,” he said, walking into the office. “None of us should be here.”
“How do we get out?” Beck asked. “Do you really think there’s a reset button somewhere, and I can just magically undo all of this?”
O’Reilly looked at him for a long moment. Beck shifted uncomfortably under the older man’s steady gaze. “I think you know what the right thing do to is,” O’Reilly said at last. “I think you know that it’s not what you’ve been doing. What I don’t know is if you have the balls to admit your mistake, and try to correct the damage you’ve caused. I know that you can,” O’Reilly added, his voice softer, almost sad. “But I don’t know if you will.” He turned and walked out of the office then, leaving Beck alone with some very unpleasant thoughts.
&&&
“What are you doing?” Orly asked. Demetrius turned, and flashed her a bright smile. Orly’s expression remained blank. “What are you doing?” she repeated.
“I’m having a bit of fun,” Demetrius said. “Mr. O’Reilly is terrified of me.”
“As he should be,” Orly said. “As should any rational creature. You are a truly terrifying presence.”
“Thank you, my dear,” Demetrius said. “Of course, O’Reilly’s fear is a double-edged blade. He fears me, so he avoids me, making it harder to influence him. And yet, his fear gives me the perfect weakness to exploit.”
“It’s not polite to play with your food,” Orly said sternly. “If you’re going to take him, then take him. He’s distracting my—Mr. Beck.”
“You still can’t bring yourself to say it,” Demetrius said, his grin stretching impossibly wide. “Oh, I will take Mr. O’Reilly, don’t worry. We can’t have him upsetting the coming battle. But that isn’t here, yet, and I do so hate being bored.”
Idle hands really are the Devil’s playthings, Orly thought, as she left Demetrius to his game.
Chapter Rating: R, for language and gore
Chapter Summary: In which our heroes approach the enemy stronghold, and Beck tries to stop them.
Disclaimer: #NotIntendedToBeAFactualStatement
All television shows, movies, books, and other copyrighted material referred to in this work, and the characters, settings, and events thereof, are the properties of their respective owners. As this work is an interpretation of the original material and not for-profit, it constitutes fair use. Reference to real persons, places, or events are made in a fictional context, and are not intended to be libelous, defamatory, or in any way factual.
Word Count: ~1900
Author's Note: Beta’d by the wonderful
themistoklis.Previous chapters
Chapter 28
“No!” Beck screamed. “How in the hell do they keep doing that?” He threw himself into his desk chair and stared angrily at his computer. On the surface, a map of New York was nothing to get so upset about. But Beck was using it to track Rachel Maddow’s movements. He was pretty sure she had met up with those liberal clowns from Comedy Central. He knew she was coming for him.
“What’s going on?” a low voice asked. Beck looked up, and forced himself not to shiver.
Demetrius stood in the doorway, looking in at him. Curiously, he did not enter. Instead, he stood as if balanced on the edge of the curb, right outside Beck’s office.
“Nothing,” Beck said. “It’s just that some of these survivors are harder to get rid of than I expected.”
“Ah, humanity,” Demetrius said, smiling slowly. “So stubborn. Well, don’t exhaust yourself,” the dark one continued. “You’ll need to keep your strength up.”
“Of course,” Beck said. Then he frowned. “What for?”
“For the final battle, of course,” Demetrius said. “I know you have enemies, Mr. Beck. And I know that they are coming for you.”
Beck did shiver this time. “Of course,” he repeated.
“I’m looking forward to it,” Demetrius said, practically slithering away. Beck waited until he was gone before slumping over his desk.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he swore. “Maddow, you cannot make it here. I don’t know what they’ll do to me, if you do,” he added softly.
&&&
Rachel Maddow frowned. “Did you say something?” she asked. Stephen was sitting in the passenger seat, as far from Ivy as he could get. Rebecca had demanded that Stephen change seats after he and Ivy had had a twenty-minute discussion about elves.
“No,” Stephen said. “Everybody’s asleep.”
Rachel glanced back. Sure enough, everyone had fallen asleep. Fighting zombies all the time was exhausting.
“I could have sworn,” Rachel said softly. A thought fluttered against her mind, but as she tried to catch it, it faded away. “Oh, well.” She pulled over and stopped the van.
“We’re here?” Stephen asked.
“This is as far as we can drive. The Army seems to have disappeared, but they left some serious roadblocks. We have to walk.”
“Why did we stop?” Ivy asked, here eyes still closed.
“Time to walk,” Stephen said quietly.
“Good,” Rebecca said, stretching. “I am sick of being in the car.” She climbed out of the van, Adam following her without a word.
“Come on, Jon,” Stephen said. He reached out and squeezed Jon’s hand. “Time to go.”
Jon sighed, and opened his eyes. “I was afraid of that,” he said. He got out of the car, and adjusted his jacket. Stephen saw a metallic flash near the other man’s belt.
“You still have that?” he asked quietly.
Jon turned to look at him. “Yeah,” he said. “Went through hell to get it. Figured I may as well take it back to hell with me.”
“We’re going to be fine,” Stephen said.
“I’m glad you think so,” Jon said. “You think positive, and I’ll worry about everything. Just like always.”
“Come on, you guys,” Rachel called. “Let’s move.”
The six adventurers, as Stephen dubbed them, walked carefully down the middle of the street, staying well out of reach of anything hiding.
“So how are we going to do this?” Ivy asked. “How do we kill Glenn Beck?”
“Shoot him,” Jon said flatly, detouring around a pothole filled with…some sort of fluid.
“Will that be enough to stop the zombies?” Rebecca asked. “Or will that just make them mindless and easier to kill?”
“They have us outnumbered no matter what,” Adam pointed out. “Even if we kill Beck, there’s still going to be a hell of a fight.”
“I’m not so sure shooting him will do the trick,” Rachel said. “I mean, he’s like me. He’s a vampire.”
“But you haven’t died,” Stephen said. “Have you?”
“No,” Rachel said quickly. “God, no. But what if we kill him, and he comes back as undead. Then he’ll be really hard to kill.”
“If we killed the vampire who made him,” Ivy said thoughtfully. “That might be enough to change him back.”
“Who wants him back?” Rebecca said. “Ivy, this guy poisoned your dad’s mind for years. He indirectly made your life at home a living hell. Why would you want him changed back? Don’t you want him dead?”
“I did,” Ivy said. “But that’s not enough. Once he’s dead, he’s dead. That’s it. He will be past any other torment. And I want that bastard to suffer for a long, long time.”
“Wow,” Jon said quietly. “Remind me to never get on your bad side.”
“Never get on Ivy’s bad side,” Rebecca and Adam said at once.
“Thanks,” Jon said dryly.
“Will they be expecting us, do you think?” Stephen asked Rachel.
Rachel shrugged. “I can tell where Beck is,” she said. “If I concentrate, I can see him in my head. As it is, I can follow his trail now. I’m sure he can do the same to me.”
“Could you talk to him?” Stephen asked. “If he surrenders…”
“I don’t think his surrender will do much good,” Rachel said. “We have to cut him off from his power, or else he can take over again any time he wants.”
“So, dead it is, then,” Rebecca said. “Sounds good to me.”
Jon glanced at Stephen. Stephen just shrugged back. “Gollum couldn’t give up the Ring,” he said.
“Of course!” Ivy cried. “Beck is Gollum. That makes more sense. But then,” she added. “Who’s Saruman? And who’s Sauron?”
“Is it a good thing or a bad thing that I have no idea what you are talking about?” Rachel asked.
“A good thing,” Jon said.
After a few more blocks, they came to the first roadblock. It was probably accidental—the Army didn’t usually just leave tanks lying around—but it completely blocked the street and most of the sidewalk on either side.
“What do you think?” Rachel asked, as she came to a stop in front of the tank. “Find a way around, or right over the top?”
“Over the top would be faster,” Rebecca said.
“Right on top makes us nice targets,” Ivy countered.
“Can we just take the tank and drive it?” Adam asked.
“I think it’s broken,” Stephen said, approaching the tank. He walked along it for a bit, and then stopped. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “It’s broken.”
Jon frowned, and followed Stephen. The far side of the tank had been torn open. Blood smeared the side of the armored vehicle, and bits of bone and flesh filled the cracks and dents made in the metal. The outside looked bad. The inside was worse.
Inside were parts of the tank crew. Black boots, with amputated limbs still inside them were strewn over the floor. Blood and other matter were splattered everywhere. A lone eye, still attached to the optic nerve, stared blankly at Jon. It was brown. Jon was green. He swallowed hard, and turned away.
“Over the top,” Stephen said. “We need to get out of here as fast as we can.”
Rebecca was already clambering up the treads. She got up, steadying herself, and reached down to pull Adam up behind her, when there was a loud “crack.”
Adam startled at the sound, and fell, dragging Rebecca with him. “What the hell was that?” she asked, unhooking her crowbar from her belt.
“Was that gunfire?” Ivy asked, crouching next to the tank.
“Rachel?” Jon asked.
“I can’t tell,” Rachel said. “The shooter isn’t dead, or a vampire. I can’t tell who’s out there.”
“Hey!” Stephen yelled. “Hey, don’t shoot! We’re the good guys.”
“Yeah, we just left our white hats at home,” Ivy muttered. Rebecca elbowed her.
There was no reply to Stephen’s shout. No returning shout, no renewed gunfire, nothing.
“Maybe it was a fluke,” Stephen suggested. “Something going off by accident, just as Rebecca climbed up?”
“This close to Beck?” Jon said. “I really doubt that.”
“Come on,” Rachel said. “The longer we stay still, the easier we’ll be to find. Up and over, fast. Then take cover on the other side.”
&&&
Beck moaned in frustration. It hadn’t worked. That stupid Maddow woman could call zombies of her own, so Beck had changed his attack. He had ordered one zombie, an Army sergeant based on his uniform, and sent it to shoot the leader of Rachel’s little band. Rachel had been leading, so she should have been the first one over the tank. Instead, it was some stupid teenage girl, and his agent hadn’t even hit her!
Beck’s face twisted with rage. Why was it so hard to kill them? Only Maddow had gotten the flu shot, and really, that should have made her his puppet. But it wasn’t, and she was clearly better at calling and ordering zombies. The fact that she might be treating them more as fans, and asking nicely, did not occur to him.
“How’s it going?”
Beck started, and saw O’Reilly standing in the doorway. Unlike Demetrius, he was half in the office, and half in the hallway. “Don’t sneak up on people like that,” he snapped.
“Don’t leave the door open,” O’Reilly countered. “If you want to concentrate, and don’t want to be startled by people walking by, close your door.”
“What are you doing here, Bill?” Beck asked tiredly. He rubbed his eyes and slumped back in his chair.
“I don’t know,” O’Reilly replied. “What am I doing here, Glenn? It isn’t safe outside, I don’t know where any of my family or friends are in this mess, and Orly’s weird friend is either trying to seduce me, or eat me. I really shouldn’t be here,” he said, walking into the office. “None of us should be here.”
“How do we get out?” Beck asked. “Do you really think there’s a reset button somewhere, and I can just magically undo all of this?”
O’Reilly looked at him for a long moment. Beck shifted uncomfortably under the older man’s steady gaze. “I think you know what the right thing do to is,” O’Reilly said at last. “I think you know that it’s not what you’ve been doing. What I don’t know is if you have the balls to admit your mistake, and try to correct the damage you’ve caused. I know that you can,” O’Reilly added, his voice softer, almost sad. “But I don’t know if you will.” He turned and walked out of the office then, leaving Beck alone with some very unpleasant thoughts.
&&&
“What are you doing?” Orly asked. Demetrius turned, and flashed her a bright smile. Orly’s expression remained blank. “What are you doing?” she repeated.
“I’m having a bit of fun,” Demetrius said. “Mr. O’Reilly is terrified of me.”
“As he should be,” Orly said. “As should any rational creature. You are a truly terrifying presence.”
“Thank you, my dear,” Demetrius said. “Of course, O’Reilly’s fear is a double-edged blade. He fears me, so he avoids me, making it harder to influence him. And yet, his fear gives me the perfect weakness to exploit.”
“It’s not polite to play with your food,” Orly said sternly. “If you’re going to take him, then take him. He’s distracting my—Mr. Beck.”
“You still can’t bring yourself to say it,” Demetrius said, his grin stretching impossibly wide. “Oh, I will take Mr. O’Reilly, don’t worry. We can’t have him upsetting the coming battle. But that isn’t here, yet, and I do so hate being bored.”
Idle hands really are the Devil’s playthings, Orly thought, as she left Demetrius to his game.
