Weapons Drabbles
Oct. 4th, 2004 01:23 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
cornerofmadnessThought the rest of you might like to look at the glut of weapons drabbles I've got here...let me know what you think.
Steven held the knife in his grimy little hands. He turned it over again and again letting the firelight gleam on the metal. The boy’s big blue eyes fixed on Holtz. "For me?"
Holtz smiled at his son. The knife was just a little penknife Justine had given him as a utility tool but he could see to his son it was the equivalent of giving him Excalibur. "You’re big enough now. And Steven, that is not a toy. If you don’t take care of your weapon, I’ll take it away."
Steven closed up the blade and cradled it protectively.
AGE FIVE
Steven rubbed his sword arm, looking at the dead demon. Had he only known Father would follow up the introduction to sword play by tying Steven to a tree and running away so the boy could practice his track, the boy would have been less proud to receive his first sword.
He wiped down the ichor smeared weapon on the fur of his fallen opponent. The sword had come from a demon Father had slain. That was the most dangerous part about living in Quor-Toth, they had to steal weapons to survive since Father couldn’t smith. Sighing, Steven began to track.
AGE SEVEN
"Ouch!" Steven almost dropped his new bow as the string whipped his forearm. He was suddenly much less thrilled about Father deciding he was big enough to learn archery.
Father examined the scraped flesh of Steven’s arm. "We’ll need to make you an arm guard."
Steven looked down field at the target. He had missed it entirely. "I’m no good at this."
Holtz patted his shoulder. "Now, son, that was your first try. No one is good the first time they pick up a weapon. It takes practice."
"But I want to be good now," Steven whined.
"Then practice."
AGE THIRTEEN
Steven’s fingers gripped his sword hard, as he spotted his prey. The Cranthi demon was just ahead of him and Steven knew it would be a hard battle. The thing had its own built in weapons, long horns and claws and that gave the demon an advantage. Steven couldn’t disarm it but he could easily lose his own weapon.
Still, Steven knew he had to kill the demon. When tanned, the Cranthi’s skin made the best, softest leather. Steven liked the feel of it against his skin and his own clothes were getting far too small for his growing body.
AGE FOURTEEN
Steven looked up from the small, tattered Bible, a wedding gift that Holtz had carried in the voluminous pocket of his coat.
Holtz read the bewildered expression on his son’s face. "Yes, Steven?"
Steven tapped the passage he had been reading in Hosea. "Why is it God keeps asking his people to kill his enemies to the last person, even ripping open pregnant women’s bellies? Why does he want fathers to sacrifice their children?"
"Sometimes, in war, great sacrifices must be made and every weapon used."
Steven looked at Holtz sadly. "Am I your weapon, Father?"
Holtz tried not to cry.
* Hosea 13:16 is the referred to passage.
AGE FIFTEEN
Steven yanked the weapon off the purple-skinned demon’s arm. He felt the hefty of the blade, testing the edge with his thumb. What a wonderful axe. He adjusted the straps to accommodate his much more slender forearm.
Steven swung his arm a few times, getting a feel for the weapon. Almost instantly it felt like an extension of his body. Yes, he would have to get close to use it, but he wasn’t afraid. This was a weapon that would further his reputation as the Destroyer. When Steven found him, Angel wouldn’t stand a chance. Steven beamed at the thought.
AGE SEVENTEEN
"Let’s see, Son," Holtz said
Steven held up his newest weapon. "One stake leaves me with just one chance and I have to get close in order to make my kill. This way, I have many shoots."
Holtz looked at the stake launcher. "How does it work?"
Steven showed him the little hidden lever. "It allows Trinu and Otbe powders mix."
"And they explode like gun powder," Holtz nodded, smiling broadly. "Ingenious."
"Thank you. When I see Angelus, I will kill him with this," Steven said grimly.
"I have no doubts that you will, son. You’re a weapon onto yourself."
AGE EIGHTEEN
Steven clung to the top of the long strange thing that rolled through the city bellowing noxious black smoke behind it. He tried not to squint, not daring to miss anything dangerous in his surroundings but the light was so bright, this world so alien. Shaking, Steven suffered his worst defeat.
He had been honed all his life to be the weapon that killed his monstrous father and he had failed. Angelus had companions fighting with him that Steven didn’t anticipate. Now, minus his best weapons and Father lost to him in Quor-Toth, Steven was alone and afraid.
AGE EIGHTEEN
Connor couldn’t keep the grin off his face watching Angelus flop after he hit him with his new toy. Justine had promised him the taser would work but it hadn’t seemed like much of a weapon to him. She suggested testing it. He hadn’t realized he couldn’t test it on himself like he would the edge of a blade.
On touch to his thigh and he had found himself on the ground his body tingling from testicles to nipples. It gave him an appreciation for what his fallen father must be feeling. He zapped Angelus again just for good measure.
AGE NINETEEN
Connor knelt at Cordelia’s grave with a box of flowers. He looked at the engraving but couldn’t read it through his tears. Angel’s spell had given him inner peace, but it couldn’t hide away the horror at what he and Cordy had done to that poor innocent girl, a crime he alone even knew of.
He felt the burden of Cordelia’s death. They had played Russian Roulette with the single-shot weapon he had between his legs. The result was the same as any bullet. He was nothing but a weapon.
Still weeping, he began to plant his offering for forgiveness.
1880
William went to his knees, holding the bleeding cut along his gut. His sword lay on the ground and Angelus stood over him laughing.
"Come on, William, get up man. How can I teach you to use a weapon if you can’t even hold onto it," Angelus mocked. "You fight like a woman."
"Women fight better," Darla interjected from where she watched, highly amused, as William got his first lesson in sword’s play.
Dru put her hands on William’s shoulders. "My boy fights beautifully. You’ll see."
William shrugged her off, getting to his feet. He picked up his sword, grinning.
1881
"That’s a nice dueling pistol," Angelus said.
Spike set it aside, seeing the covetous look in the vampire’s eye. "The fool thought he could take me with that, all over a woman."
"The best things are always over a woman," Angelus said.
"But you ought to know Drusilla is quite cross about it." Darla snuggled up to Angelus.
"My princess will forgive me," Spike said as Dru swept into the room. "There you are, love." He held out his arms to her.
Dru picked up the pistol and shot Spike in the groin.
Angelus laughed. "Don’t worry, Spike. It’ll heal...eventually."
1950
"Do it again, Spike," Dru purred.
"I think I’ve got it down, luv," Spike beamed.
Spike took another look at the western on the telly, watching the cowboy making his gun spin like it was dancing. Spike tried to mimic the moves again. The pistol flew around on his fingers before he slapped it into the holster.
Dru burst out laughing and clapped. She tossed her arms around him. "It’s so pretty. Let me play."
Spike pulled her close. "I have another weapon I want you to play with, a sword." He ground his groin against her.
"Naughty boy!"
1977 - NC-17
"Spike, what’s wrong?" Dru stroked his cock. "It doesn’t want to play."
Spike sat her back against the car seat then waved to the drive-in screen. "We can do that anytime, Dru. I’m trying to watch the bloody movie."
"But Spike..."
He picked up the bucket of popcorn off the floorboards. "Have, some popcorn, luv. The girl dishing it out was young and juicy."
Pouting, Dru gave him the evil eye as she picked at the blood soaked, salted treat.
"Man, watch Han go with that blaster! Can you imagine what we could do with a weapon like that?"
1997
Spike watched the tape intently, watching her moves. Some considered him brash to the point of stupidity. That was what he wanted them to think but he was crafty, intelligent. He knew better than to challenge a Slayer cold. He preferred to study his prey. It had been hardest with the Chinese bint, since he didn’t know the language. The piece of dark chocolate in New York, he had studied for weeks. He’d study the tapes until they broke if need be. Saving his wicked plum would come down to him picking the right weapon to fight Buffy. Dru depended on him.
2004
Spike holds his sword tightly. It may be the last weapon he ever touches. As the rain sluices down, Spike wondered how he turned from a vicious killer into a do-gooder. There was something wrong about that.
Now, he stood side by side with the vampire he had frictioned along with for decades, ready to give his life. He had just died once in the last year and Spike knew if he died again, there would be no coming back. He hefted the sword, staring at the demon hoard. He’d be damned if Angel got the dragon before he did.
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Date: 2004-10-08 09:38 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-10-08 10:17 pm (UTC)"Ice MELTS."
"Especially when it gets as hot as I'm getting."
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Date: 2004-10-08 10:28 pm (UTC)Now to decide what happens in this story
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Date: 2004-10-08 11:08 pm (UTC)NO ONE wants melting ice.
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Date: 2004-10-08 11:17 pm (UTC)I think Tryn might feel better if it was melted.
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Date: 2004-10-09 07:23 am (UTC)Poor Tryn!
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Date: 2004-10-09 07:44 am (UTC)Yes stuck with two horny young men
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Date: 2004-10-09 07:52 am (UTC)My feet are not abnormally large...spider-hands --Trehvan
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Date: 2004-10-09 07:55 am (UTC)Oh they are too. Look at those sleds - Tully
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Date: 2004-10-09 08:51 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-10-09 08:59 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-10-09 06:27 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-10-09 07:33 pm (UTC)