Try Harder

Buffy and The Immortal - Try Harder

Buffy slammed Marco against the wall so hard the lathing behind the thick plaster shattered. For several moments the impact robbed him of his senses or ability to move. When his eyes cleared he found himself being held against the wall with a vise like grip around his throat.

“How long? How long have you known?” Buffy grated out between clenched teeth. When Marco tried to speak and was unable, Buffy loosened the grip on his throat so that he could draw air into his lungs.

“How long what, my love?” Marco said in a smooth cultured voice, the voice that had entranced Buffy since their first meeting. “How long have I know that your demon lover had come back to life? How long your Watcher has known and hidden it from you? How long since he came to see you and found you in my arms?” A wicked little smile spread across Marcos face as he looked at the tears running down Buffys cheeks. He could see the pain he was causing and a thrill of joy washed over him. “Or do you want to know how long until he is dead again and never coming back?”

The shock of Marcos words stunned Buffy so that she loosened her hold on him just enough. With a lightening like move that would have been impossible for any human to make his left arm came up and knocked her hand away from his throat while his right fist slammed into her stomach. The impact of the blow lifted Buffy off of her feet and threw her several feet backward where she landed sprawled on the floor.

As Buffy laid on the floor trying to get her stunned body to draw air back into her lungs, Marco stood before her with his hands on his hips and a grin on his face. As he started speaking she could hear the scorn in his voice. “You are so pathetic, my little dove. So starved for love. So determined to have a normal life, to run away from your past. A few sweet words, a few new dresses and shoes, a night or two of dancing and sex, you completely forgot about your vampire lovers. Yes, my love, lovers! I know about both of them. They came to Rome, together, looking for you. They came hoping that you would pick one of them, instead they found you in my arms and bed. When they left their hearts were shredded, like paper on the floor.”

“Why? Why did you do it?” Buffy gasped out as she regained her breath. “What did I do to you to make you hurt me so much?”

Marco threw his head back and let a loud joyful laugh burst forth. When he looked back down at Buffy he was smiling. “You foolish little girl. When did I hurt you, my love? When I wined and dined you all over Rome? When I took you to every salon in the city and bought you the very finest of everything you wanted? Or was it when I took you to my bed and made love to you all night long, night after night? I don’t remember you making any complaints at the time.”

Hearing Marcos words sent waves of shame and humiliation rushing through Buffys heart and soul. Putting her hands on the floor she started to push herself up to a sitting position so that she could stand. As soon as she moved, Marcos rushed forward and kicked her in the face, knocking her back to the floor. Buffy had barely gotten one hand in front of her face and had only partially blocked the blow. His foot had still connected with her jaw and the force of the kick knocked her sideways so that she rolled over onto her stomach. When she looked back up at Marco he was standing over her bouncing on the balls of his feet, waiting anxiously for her to try to stand again. Blood was running from her mouth and she had to spit it out before she could speak.

“Why?” Buffy spat out. “If it wasn’t to hurt me, then why?”

“It was a favor, my love” Marco said with a sneer on his lips. “A favor for some very dear friends. They asked me to distract you, to take your mind off your duties. I had no idea when I agreed how easy it would be, or how much fun.”

Anger pounded through Buffys head like a war drum blocking all pain. She tried to get to her feet again, but Marco was waiting and kicked her in the ribs as she tried to rise. The power of the kick lifted her completely off the floor and sent her sailing a dozen feet across the room. What Marco hadn’t expected was that Buffy had barely hit the floor again before she was up on her feet facing him with her fists up and ready to fight.

Marco hesitated for a few moments as he studied the situation. Blood was still dripping from Buffys mouth and the side of her face where he had kicked her was starting to swell and bruise. He could also tell by the way she was standing that he had probably cracked or broken several of her ribs. The sneering smile came back to his lips again before he started speaking.

“Do you really think you can defeat me in a fight?” Marco mocked. “I was a gladiator at the very beginnings of Imperial Rome. I fought before Caius Julius Caesar, the last Dictator of Rome. I won my freedom and earned the title of Citizen of Rome over two thousand years ago. I have fought and killed thousands with my bare hands. Do you really think you have a chance?”

“Never cared for history, to old and moldy” Buffy said through swollen lips as she used one fist to wipe blood from her mouth. “One things for certain though, you’ve never fought a Slayer or your puny ass would have been dust a long time ago.”

Stung by the insult Marco moved toward Buffy at the same moment she moved toward him. For long minutes followed by longer minutes they pounded on each other. Marco’s size and non-human strength gave him an obvious advantage. Buffy’s quickness, Slayer strength and raw determination to win no matter what the cost was on her side in the battle. They pounded each other around the room, smashing furniture that got in their way, crashing through doors into other rooms, destroying displays of priceless artifacts that could never be replaced.

The palazzo that Marco owned was one of the oldest in the city of Rome and was built more like a fortress than the more modern homes of the ultra-rich of the city. The fight between Buffy and Marco had started on the third floor but worked it’s way through doors and down staircases until they were on the ground floor. Whether by intention or luck, as the fight brought them before the wide double doors that led into the Grand Ballroom of the palazzo, Marco got a grip on Buffy and using all of his strength he threw her crashing through the doors and into the ballroom.

Buffy laid stunned for a moment from the impact with first the doors and then the hard wooden floor she landed on with a crash. As she pushed herself up from the floor the damage Buffy had taken in the fight was appalling. Both eyes were already blackened and one was so swollen that she couldn’t see out of it. Blood was running from her nose and mouth and from one ear. Her face was lumpy from the number of times she had been punched, the skin had been abraded away on one cheek and on her forehead. The blood from the cut on her forehead was running down into her eye, fortunately it was the eye swollen shut so it didn’t impair her vision more than it already was impaired. The knuckles of both hands were skinned nearly to the bone and were bleeding freely. Several ribs were broken and others cracked causing her difficulty with her breathing. She was also having difficulty keeping her left leg under her because of the pain of a fractured bone in her thigh. There wasn’t any injury that a week of rest wouldn’t heal, due to her slayer healing abilities, but right now she didn’t have a week or even minutes to recover.

Marco had taken damage from Buffy that was even greater than the injuries he had inflicted on her, but due to his ability to heal almost instantly, few of his injuries were as noticeable as hers. While Buffy was getting back onto her feet, Marco followed her into the room. There was a large cut over his left eye that was bleeding freely, but as Buffy watched she saw the bleeding stop and the cut close. Marco was breathing heavily, but not as heavily as Buffy was breathing herself. The knuckles of both his hands were scrapped to the bone, but the skin was already forming over the cuts. Seeing that Buffy was back on her feet, ready to continue fighting, Marco paused and instead of coming toward Buffy he moved to one side of the open doors and pulled an ancient gladius down from the wall. Quickly he moved into a fighting stance that had taken him to victory in hundreds of fights in the arenas of Rome over two thousand years earlier.

A gleam came into Marco’s eyes as he held the short sword out in front of himself and the cruel smile of a born killer spread across his lips. “I grow tired of this insignificant fight with you” Marco declared in a mocking tone of voice. “I will show you now why I was the greatest gladiator to ever fight in Rome.”

As soon as Marco had the sword in his hand Buffy knew that she was at a great disadvantage. She knew that if she took her eyes off of him for even a second he would be on her. The nearest weapon was on a wall thirty feet away and the floor of the ballroom was empty. Buffy knew that the fight was going to end one way or another within the next minute. Her mind cleared of all other thoughts and focused on the blade in Marco’s hand. The pain that was wracking her body faded into the background. There was nothing in the world beyond the few feet between her and her prey. She was The Slayer, primeval warrior of the light.

When Marco moved in on Buffy they circled each other for a few seconds, feeling each other out. With a quick lunge and a flick of the wrist he made contact and scored a shallow cut across Buffys stomach. Blood started flowing from the cut and was dripping on the floor. The cut wasn’t deep, but the blood dripping to the floor made foot work dangerous, and continued bleeding would sap her strength away. Marco smiled even wider at the sight of the blood and moved in again.

What she did or how she did it Buffy was never able to remember later. All she knew was that at the end of the movements that both of them started at the same time, Marco was on his back and Buffy was kneeling next to him trying to press his own sword into his throat. Marco had both of his hands wrapped around her wrist holding the sword away from his throat. Buffy had the short sword in one hand like a knife pressing down and the other hand trying to pull one of his hands from her wrist.

As strong as Marco was, Buffys slayer strength was greater. But Marco had longer arms and more than twice the body weight of Buffy, and in a kneeling position, she couldn’t get the leverage she needed to plunge the sword into his throat. Buffy was also loosing blood at a steady rate.

Marco realized that he was holding Buffy off and that she couldn’t force the blade down any further. He also realized that with the loss of blood Buffy was sustaining she wouldn’t be able to hold out much longer. He grinned up at her and said “You can’t win little girl. Every moment that goes by you grow weaker while I grow stronger. I am The Immortal. No one can defeat me.”

Buffy looked down at The Immortal and saw his grin. “You may be The Immortal, but I’m The Slayer. That means I try harder.”

To quick for The Immortal to understand what happened or stop it, Buffy released her hold on his wrist and plunging her fingers like a knife she ruptured his abdomen just below his sternum. The shock stunned The Immortal as Buffy forced her hand up and wrapped her fingers around his heart. Looking directly into his eyes Buffy smiled as she ripped the heart out of the chest of The Immortal.

***

The following morning when the servants returned to the palazzo the first thing they noticed was the trail of blood that led from the closed doors of the ballroom across the entrance hall and out the front doors. Knowing that The Immortal was a great and powerful man, and that he was beyond the touch of the law of Rome, the servants were indecisive. No one wanted to be the first to open the doors to the ballroom and suffer the wrath of The Immortal.

In order to avoid making a decision the servants scatter through the house searching for The Immortal. When one of the servants let out a scream from the upper floor all of the servants rushed up to investigate. What they found was room after room of destruction and smears of blood on the floors and walls. They fearfully followed the destruction and blood trail down the staircase to the doors of the ballroom. After arguing amongst themselves for several minutes the senior house keeper was chosen to open the door to see what lay beyond.

The house keeper, who had worked for The Immortal for over thirty years, opened the door and looked inside the room. She quickly withdrew her head and slammed the door closed. Her face had grown pale white and her eyes were large with fear. When one of the other servants started to open the door to look inside the house keeper screamed at her and forced her away from the door. With shaking hands the House keeper withdrew a ring of keys from her pocket and locked the double doors closed. She then fell to her knees before the doors and started praying loudly as she crossed herself again and again. The other servants not knowing what the house keeper had seen, but picking up on her fear, fell to their knees also and started praying.

The house keeper was the first to regain her composure. She told the other servants that The Immortal was dead and that they should all take from the house whatever things of value they wanted and to leave and never to return. She also told them that she was calling a priest and unless they wanted to face a Holy Inquisition they should never say anything to anyone about The Immortal or his death.

All of the servant were gone from the house by noon except for the house keeper. At precisely noon there was a knock on a backdoor of the palazzo. The house keeper opened the door quickly and let the priest enter. She did not ask the priests name or give her own to the priest. She led him through the house to the doors to the ballroom. Taking the ring of keys from her pocket she showed the priest which key opened the doors and quickly fled the house out the backdoor, never to return.

The priest quietly said a prayer and crossed himself before unlocking the door and looking inside the room. After nearly a minute the priest withdrew from the doorway and locked the door again. He then fell to his knees and prayed for over an hour. When the priest finally got up from the floor he quickly walked through the house until he found a phone. He made a call and was given a phone number. He called that number and waited on hold until the person he needed to talk to came on line. He spoke to the person briefly, explaining what he had found without elaboration and giving directions to the backdoor of the palazzo. When he finished with the call he found a chair and carried it to the backdoor where he sat down and spent the rest of the day praying for his own salvation.

One hour after sunset there was a light knock on the backdoor. An elderly priest was standing there wearing the robes of an Order that had officially been disbanded by the Church over two hundred years ago. The younger priest led the way through the house without speaking and gave the keys to the older priest, showing him which one to use, then quickly left the house.

The elderly priest unlocked the door and looked inside for just a moment before closing the door again. He then took a cell phone out of his pocket and made a call. One hour later six cars parked next to his behind the palazzo. Twelve priest dressed like the elderly priest got out of the cars. They went to the backs of each of the cars and took large suitcases out of the trunks of the cars and carried them to the backdoor. By the time they reached the backdoor it was already open and the elderly priest led them through the house. When all of the priest were gathered before the ballroom doors the elderly priest led them in prayer. When the prayer was completed the elderly priest opened the doors and led the other priests into the room.

The thirteen priests gathered in a circle around The Immortal and started praying. They could all see plainly that The Immortals head had been severed from his body, his heart had been ripped from his chest and a gladius had been slammed through his stomach deep into the floor beneath to hold the body in place. They could all also see that the hands of The Immortal were wrapped around the hilt of the sword and were weakly but persistently trying to pull the gladius from the floor that pinned the body in place.

It took over an hour to go through the house and clean up any traces of blood from the floors, walls and staircases. During this time the elderly priest took precise care to draw a pentagram around the twitching body that was trying to free itself. Archaic symbols were drawn at different locations inside the pentagram and thirteen black candles were placed around it. Prayers were said, the candles were lit and incense was set to burn. For several hours the elderly priest led the prayers. Each of the other priests repeating his words exactly.

Just before midnight the priests started chanting their archaic prayers louder and the elderly priest started sprinkling Holy Water onto the twitching body. At exactly midnight the thirteen candles all flared up at the same time and the body stilled. The elderly priest quickly picked a heavy ax up from the floor and stepping inside the pentagram chopped both arms and legs from the body and with four strokes of the ax chopped the body into two parts, dividing it at the point where the gladius had pinned the body to the floor.

The younger priests brought the suitcases they had carried into the house to the edge of the pentagram and opened them up. Inside each were several heavy plastic bags into which different part of the body were place, first into one bag and then another and then another. Towels inside the suitcases were used to wipe the bags down carefully and then the suitcases. A large folder was inside each case and was taken out and given to one of the priests to hold. The cases were then locked up and the keys given to the elderly priest. He then withdrew a pouch from inside his robes and a Papal Seal was attached to each of the cases. The seals were a guarantee of diplomatic immunity and from being opened in any county of the world that had diplomatic relations with the Papal State. The priests lined up the cases in a row and set them to one side. The candles and incense burners were put away, the pentagram and last traces of blood were cleaned from the floor.

When the cleansing was finished the thirteen priest gathered around the suitcases and said another prayer. The elderly priest then passed out the folders at random to one of two priest while the other selected a suitcase at random and picked it up. As soon as a pair had both a folder and a suitcase they left the ballroom without a further word and passed through the house and left by the backdoor where they got into their cars and drove away. Once away from the palazzo they were to open the folders to find out where in the world they were to carry the cases and hide them away forever.

The priests had been through and all traces of blood had been cleansed from all floors, walls and staircases of the house. Except for broken furniture, smashed doors and shattered artifacts there wasn’t any evidence of anything having happened within the house besides vandalism. Nothing at all except for the gladius that was still sticking up from the floor of the ballroom and the slight scratches in the floor where the ax had chopped through the parts of the body. The ax had been sharp and heavy but had only managed to make the slightest marks in the hard wood of the floor. The gladius had been sunk so deeply into the floor that no one would ever be able to remove it without tearing up a whole section of the flooring. The elderly priest had made a decision to leave it as it was and let others try to figure out the mystery of how it got there.

The elderly priest picked up the heavy trash bag that all of the blood covered cleaning rags and cleaning materials had been deposited in and carried it out of the room. He set it down to lock the doors to the ballroom then picked it up again and carried out of the house. After locking the backdoor he stood there for a minute while he said a final prayer and crossed himself. He then put the trash bag into the trunk of his car, got into the car and drove away. As he drove slowly back to the Vatican he worried over the missing parts of The Immortal, the head and the heart. Something far stronger than human or demon kind had defeated The Immortal and a blessing of gratitude had been said several times through the evening. But still it worried him that something that powerful was out there and he didn’t know what it was or what it wanted with the head and the heart. An investigation would have to be started immediately, a very secret investigation.