The Swords of the Ancients

And here’s yet another entry for a Chuck Wendig Writing Challenge. This one is brought to you by They Fight Crime. Go check it out. It might just help you come up with that character idea you needed.

My description from They Fight Crime was this: “He’s a scarfaced Catholic stage actor on the hunt for the last specimen of a great and near-mythical creature. She’s a beautiful hip-hop college professor with an evil twin sister. They fight crime!”

And without further ado…

“So, where are we staking out tonight, Doc?” Clark carefully applied a layer of foundation over the pale pink reminders of the fire that lingered on his jaw, neck, and shoulder with a practiced hand. “Same place as last night?”

“No, dear,” Professor Andrews replied as she slipped into the room. “Tonight I was thinking that we’d keep an eye out on the bus stop on 45^th. I’ve heard a couple of reports of attacks in that area in the last week.”

“And you think that it’s the same person each time?” he asked.

“Well, ‘person’ is a loose term. I heard hints that it might actually have been him.”

“The werewolf?” Clark paused, triangular sponge in hand.

“Mmmhmm.” She grabbed a pair of headphones and placed them around her neck. “After all, the moon’s been full. The M.O. certainly fits.”

Clark finished his makeup and checked the results in the mirror. No sign now remained of the scars that normally marred his face. Still, the burns ached. The theatre fire had been almost ten years ago, but the pain and the scars lingered, and the makeup could only cover the physical injuries. “Melissa,” he said, “you know how long I’ve been after him, don’t you?”

Professor Andrews stepped behind him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. “Clark, darling, of course I know. I’m just worried that you’re going to get caught up in some sort of revenge fantasy like my sister did.” She placed a kiss on his cheek.

“How long has she been in prison now, six months?”

“Seven,” Melissa replied. “We don’t have to worry about her. That’s not the point. If our boy is the one attacking these people, this is our chance to finally put him away.” She played with the chain around Clark’s neck, straightening the crucifix on it as she did so. “And once he’s gone, then we’ll be free to do whatever we like with the rest of our lives.”

“Would you go back to teaching full time?”

“If I could find a college that would take me on. Alyssa did a number on my reputation back when she was pretending to be me. But maybe we could find a place that’s looking for help with their theatre program too. There’s got to be more to your career than small-time performances of The Rocky Horror Picture Show and that web ad campaign you did last summer. ”

“Hey, you loved seeing me as Brad.”

“Pretty sure that has nothing to do with your ability to act. After all, he’s Barry Bostwick in the movie.”

“Ouch.”

“Yeah, I guess that was a little harsh. I mean, he was pretty funny in Spin City and those Peps…oh, right.”

“Yeah.”

“Clark, it’s not that I think you’re a bad actor. I just think that you’re better suited to what we do right now.”

“You really think I’m good?”

“The best. Other than me, of course. And at least I didn’t make some joke about burning down the theatre because you were awful.”

Clark’s hands went to his foundation-covered scars for a moment before he realized she was still smiling. “Thanks, Melissa. You know, when you first came to me to offer me the job, I was half-convinced that you were only using me as a source for holy water. It’s a big relief to know that there’s more to it than that.”

Melissa straightened and walked back to her wardrobe, pulling out black t-shirt after black t-shirt and throwing them into a pile on the floor. “Oh, I knew you wanted revenge, but I figured you had to have some talent if you were going up against the rest of his pack on your own. Never would have guessed you were that crazy. Proved me wrong, didn’t you? Damn, I can never find the one I’m looking for,” she muttered darkly.

“What are you doing?” Clark called over his shoulder. He was preoccupied with his cell phone now, searching for more information about the recent attacks.

“Trying to find my Wu Tang Clan shirt, but it’s not here.”

“It’s in the laundry. You got blood on it last time.”

“Clark, I need that shirt. It’s the only way that the guys we fight know that I’m ‘Nothing to…'”

“I’m pretty sure the katana’s a dead giveaway for that one.”

“Valid point. I’ll go with Snoop. Maybe it’ll make our boy giggle when he sees it, and I can hit him while he’s distracted. Did you have a chance to get the silver edging added?”

“Yeah, but you owe Maki another two grand. He melted down a lot of heirlooms for that, and he’s pretty convinced that his great-grandfather is haunting him again.” He laced up a pair of combat boots.

“Fine. We’ll pay for it with the reward money when we stop this werewolf, then we’ll deal with Old Man Yamada.”

“Sounds like a plan. We better get moving, then. It’ll take us at least thirty minutes to get to 45^th.”

Melissa pulled two holstered pistols from the wardrobe and handed them to Clark. “You’re driving,” she said. “Those are loaded with the silver-tipped rounds, just in case.”

“Thanks Mel.” Clark stood and attached the holsters to his belt. “Nearly ten years, but we’re down to the last known one. Let’s end this.”

Adding a sword belt to her own outfit, Melissa turned to face him. “Together.”

“Son of a bitch burned me once. Not this time.” Clark quickly crossed himself. “Let’s go.”