A Tale of Two Lives

Hollywood,1948

"Quiet on set!" yelled the studio director. As an eerie hush fell upon the crew of filmakers,their star a beautiful young woman, she was perhaps nineteen or twenty, and was dressed in a beautiful silver evening gown, a black feather boa adorned her right arm while it slung lazily on her left arm. Her blonde hair ran down one side of her face, concealing the eye. She had a small black spot that was quite noticable on her left cheek. Her black pumps just made the outfit complete.She walked on the set,which was supposed to be an upper-class nightclub and had a seat at the bar, where she happened to find a martini glass.

"And...Action!" yelled the director, signaling of the cameraman to begin filming.

As the film began shooting, a handsome young man, with jet black hair that shimmered in the light, walked on to the set, and walked to the bar and sat at the bar next to the woman. He signaled the bartender to bring him a drink. Suddenly smitten by the woman, he moved the stool closer to her and tried to strike up a conversation.

"Well, I have never seen a beautiful woman like you here before, are you new in town.?" he said with a confident smile on his face.

Pretending not to see him, she responded in a very vague manner,

"No i'm not, what about y-" before she could finish her sentence, she turned to face the man, she saw a handsome man with a piercing gaze, and a wonderful smile. Before she could think, she embraced in a passionate kiss with the man she hardly ever met.

"Cut" he yelled through his megaphone. The pair instantly pulled apart, now had looks of disgust on their faces. The girl walked away from the set to her chair, and dug in her black handbag, dug for a hankerchief and wiped the smeared lipstick from her face. Finally, the filming on her latest romance film called Twas Love at First Sight wrapped. It was nearly nine o'clock at night and the girl was beat. She heard the doors open, and in walked a man about fourty-five wearing a black stripped suit and had a dark brown fedora on his head and a cigar in his mouth. His name was Christophe Porter. Everyone believed him to be her agent, because he was always around her, when she went to a premiere, on interviews, and he occasionally escorted her to the studio, but mostly the night filmings.

He had a bigger purpose in her life as her watcher. The guardian and guide to the slayer which she was. He has been very supportive of her career as an actress, he wants her to know what a life seperate from fighting evil on a nightly basis feels like. The man helped her into her fur coat and escorted her out to their black '44 chevy. He helped the girl into the car and grabbed a small satchel from the back and handed it to her.

"No, Porter not tonight, i've had a long day." she begged her watcher. She had her arm supported by the arm rest and held her head up using her hand to avoid falling asleep.

"You have a duty to mankind Francine, you cannot ignore your calling." She knew that when he began the destiny speech again, she couldn't win the argument of weither or not to go on something as simple as going on a hunt for the evil undead. She reluctantly told him to hurry and get in the car before she got cranky. Gosh, sometimes she wishes she never had a destiny

They pulled out to a fuel station, and Francine took the satchel into the restroom and opened it to see that Christophe had put some street clothes in there. Nothing to fancy, just a nice simple t-shirt with some denim jeans and her combat boots, which she was given as a souvenir of the war, which thankfully had ended three years ago; yet she wasn't called until six months ago. She rubbed the blush off of her cheeks and did the same to the dark colored lipstick on her lips. When she had finished changing, she looked like a young girl trying to pass for a boy. She reached in the bag and removed a small pewter crucifix which was put on a beautiful golden chain. She clasped the necklace on and went outside, trying to keep her other clothes as neat as possible.

They pulled up to a largely populated cemetery in the center of the city. This cemetery usually had all the action. Francine took a deep breath, grabbed her weapons bag from the back seat and took off into the night. For a California spring night, the air gave her a rather harsh chill down her spine. She carried the bag as if it were a lunch pail she was taking to school. Francine wandered aimlessley through the cemetery until her eyes came upon a fresh plot. The deceased was a woman, who appeared to have died at the rather young age of twenty-nine. She knelt down to read the gravestone, she had only read the name before an ivory hand reached up from the fresh earth.

"Here we go again."

The creature sprang from the ground like a jack in the box. She stood up and took a stake from her bag, before tossing it aside. The vamp charged at her, she ran backwards, grabbed a tree for support before throwing her leg into the air and gave him a kick to the face, before he could blink again, the other leg came swinging not too far behind. She regained her footing, the stake still firmly in hand. He charged at her, sending punches aimed at her face, she blocked them all then sent him flying backwards with a swift upward thrust with the palm of her hand. He was still lying on the ground trying to get up when she went to stake him. She forced the stake down, but the vamp caught her arm, and hurled her over his body. She managed to safely land on a soft patch of grass near her bag. She grabbed for the small axe and stood up to finish the fight. She landed a good punching combo on his face before cutting his head clean off his body, and watched as he turned to dust.

-----

Her penthouse was in the good part of the city. Where all the swanky clubs and restaurants were located. The great movie stars frequented these places when they were in town filming another movie for the masses. She walked into her apartment dead tired, so tired that she felt like dropping on her bed and sleeping through her twenties. She just toddled through the penthouse into her grand bathroom, where a nineteenth century rug of crimson from the orient adorned the floor, her walls were made up of white ivory tiles. She reached and turned on the light, saw that she had a gnarly bruise with a slight cut on her shoulder blade from the collison with the tree in the graveyard.

She was so tired she ignored the stinging that imminated from the cut as the air came in contact with it. She turned off the bathroom light and emersed from the darkness in a slinky silk nightdress with a matching robe. She opened another door adjacent to the front bathroom door and behind this door lay her bedroom. Without having turned on a light she strode to her bed, and pulled up the covers and got in. This was the best feeling of all right now. She wish that she could just stay in here forever and leave the world behind.But as she was well aware of, tomorrow was another day.

The front door buzzed louder than a mosquito right next to her ear on a hot summer night. She groaned and moaned, not wanting her beautiful experience known as sleep to end. Francine awoke with a gammot of yawns and stretching, she walked barefoot over to her curtains and pulled them open, revealing the bright Los Angeles sun then proceeded to the front door. She opened the front door and there stood a slender guy, with little color wearing a red and gold uniform with the name "Melvin" sewn into the shirt with a tray of breakfast and the morning paper.

"Here you go ma'am, and enjoy your day." he said as he pushed the trolley of food into her room.

"Thank you, Melvin, here you go." she responded as she dropped a two-dollar bill in his hand as he exited the room.

She was going to enjoy the day. She didn't have to work at the studio today. A day of laziness and junk food filled her every thought as she scarfed down her breakfast and read the morning paper. Her good mood suddenly came to a halt when she read the headline on the second page. At least ten people were found dead on the other end of the city. Six men and four women were found dumped near a quarry last night, and all had unusual marks and contusions on thier lower neck and shoulder. She threw the paper on the rug beneath her feet and she got that angry spoiled girl face on with her arms crossed and she slumped back into the couch.

"I'm cursed."

"No, your chosen."

She looked behind her and saw Christophe standing there, with an emotionless face, which was nothing unusual. He took his overcoat off and slung it over the arm of her rocking chair. She knew why he was here, he had read about the murders in the paper and had come to spend the afternoon training with his charge.

"Don't you ever knock? I could have been undressing or something." she said as she shot a glare at him.

"It was worth the risk."

"Well, it's the first day in six months I haven't had to spend all day in the studio under hot lights, so I am going to spend it leisurely; my way."

"No, I am your watcher, and you are the slayer which means you have a responsibility to all those people out there to protect them from evil." he told her as if he was ordering her around like some slave, "Now change your clothes we are going to train." not taking his serious look off his face for a moment.

"Yes, I am the slayer but i'm also an actress and I can't be going on these life or death missions all the time and get all bruised up. Because if those bruises and cuts show up on camera, people will be talking." she shouted back at him. Knowing she could shout as loud as she wants because every body will just think she rehearsing lines for another movie. "So, this career of yours is more important to you than your sacred birthright?" he asked, wondering how these words could be coming out of this girls mouth.

Francine looked at the floor, trying to avoid eye contact with her watcher, who was the closest thing to family as she had. "To tell ya the truth Porter, right now it is. I mean, the long work hours and the hot lights in a hot studio are worth it to be remembered for something ten or twenty years from now, even if I won't be around to see any of the recognition, because I know what being the slayer means. Being the slayer means a short, brutal life filled with blood and pain and death; I know every time I step into a cemetery or a crypt I am risking my life." when she finally finished ranting, her eyes began to tear up.

"Well Francine, if that's the way you feel, I'll leave, but don't let those poor souls that died last night feed and kill anymore people; not that you can. You can't escape your destiny. If you won't go after them, then I will." he said. "Just go." she said, making zero eye contact with him.

Three Days Later....

The night of the showing of her new movie had finally arrived. All of the Hollywood elite would be there, including Los Angeles Mayor Fletcher Bowron. Her hair was done up into curls that flowed down like a waterfall. She wore a diamond necklace and matching diamond earrings. She wore the very dress that she wore in the final scene of Twas Love at First Sight . She added a pair of white gloves to the outfit and instead of a black boa, wore a mink stole. She looked in the mirror but couldn't smile, she hadn't spoken a word to her watcher in three days, the longest she has ever gone without talking to him.

She walked out front and saw a limo was waiting to take her to the theater. She knew that Christophe was in danger, going to a vamp nest without a slayer. Though tonight, she wasn't the slayer, she was Francine Baxter, actress extraordinare.

At the Rialto, along each end of the red carpet leading to the door, stood fans screaming and yelling her name. Flash bulbs went off in her eyes as she exited the car. She tried her hardest to put a smile on her face knowing that her watcher was most likely going to die tonight, but it was too late to do anything about it now.

"Francine! Francine! How are feeling about the movie we are all about to see tonight?" asked a male reporter from the Los Angeles Times. "Do you feel it could be your biggest hit yet?"

"Well I don't know," she said still with a forced smile on her face. "You'll have to wait and see." She shook a few more hands and quickly entered the theater. Inside more fans awaited her arrival as if it was a life or death oppourtunity taking place. Finally, she couldn't take it anymore, she fought her way through the crowd of people as the guilt over powered her and she rushed towards the Ladie's Room. People's eyes trailed after looking confused. She assumed they thought it was just nerves.

She closed the door and locked and told herself, "Porter's right, I do have a responsibility, I am the slayer and it's time I start acting like one." She hopped onto the counter near the porcelain sink. There, she leaped into the air, and grabbed a black pipe then swung and used her feet to launch herself through the restroom skylight and onto the roof. She ran on the roof quickly towards her car. She found it and used a rusty drain pipe to help herself down. She snuck into the backseat, and grabbed her black satchel then dissapeared back up the drain pipe then returned into the locked restroom and changed into her street clothes. She replaced her diamond necklace with her crucifix. As soon she was changed, Francine went back out the skylight and out onto the streets to find the vampires.

She took a cab towards the quarry, where the bodies were found she figured she'd start there. She walked a mile towards the sewage treatment plant, when she felt a sharp pain in her gut. They were close. She happened to stumble on an abandoned warehouse, where she shimmied up a ladder to enter through the roof. Through a filthy window she saw Porter cornered by two vamps, he was holding them away with a cross. She mustered all the strength she could and did an arial sommersault and fell through the glass windows.

The vamps haulted their attack on the watcher to see what had joined them for dinner. For a moment all was still, then the fray began. She sent a female vamp flying into a pile of crates with an arial kick in the neck. When the wood crates broke, a shard that flew in the air landed in her chest and turned her to dust. One down, nine to go. She fended two of the males off with some blows to the face and chest. She sent one that snuck up behind her back to the grave with a well placed stake to the chest. She blocked and punched with one hand, and staked with the other.

Sweat and dirt formed on her face as she and Christophe took out seven vamps in a matter of about six minutes. Soon only two remained, one male and one female. She took the girl vampire off to a corner and did her best to fight her off but the vampire gave her one swift punch and knocked her on the concrete floor. She lunged ontop of the slayer, then felt a sudden blast of pain shoot through her. She glanced down a saw a well concealed stake stuck in her chest, the vampire went out screaming. Francine brushed the newly fallen dust off her. Francine heard her watcher screaming in pain as the final vamp dug his teeth into his neck. Francine pulled him to the floor by his coat tails; as he fell a small circular object fell from his hands. She didn't notice it and gave him a hard punch to the jaw, causing it to bleed. Without a blink, she staked the final vampire, and stared as he turned to dust next to her.

"Christophe, i've been an ass lately, and i'm sorry." she said her voice breaking from all the dust inhalation. All he did was smile back at her and they had a short hug. Watcher and slayer now searched for a way out of the warehouse, arms around each other ready to start anew.

"Vampires of the world beware." she said then smiled at her watcher.

*click*

Kabaam!