Prologue:

        "Say goodbye to all this... and hello to oblivion"
                - Riff Raff, `The Rocky Horror Picture Show'

        < Atmospheres - 2001: A Space Odessey Soundtrack>       


        At first glance it looked like what most people would expect an
inner-city alley to look like at night.  Bordered by two buildings who's
bricks had been red before time had faded their color and had coated them
in grime.  The pavement was criss-crossed with cracks that connected the
pools of dirty brown water together.  Garbage bags seemed to form an honor
guard on both sides of the alley, along with other items that most people
would not care to look too long, or hard, at.

        The three story buildings to either side and the night seemed to
form the perfect habitat for that poor relation of the jackal, the mugger.
The only thing that would give someone suffering from selective amnesia any
idea of where in the world they were would be the... comments and art placed
on the alley's wall that went up to the six foot mark, before starting to
show uncovered areas larger than a child's hand.

        They were in varying sizes, colors, complexity and degrees of being
grammatically correct (if not anatomically corect).  English seemed to be the
dominant language, although spanish appeared to have a healthy showing as
well.  From several of the comments and images most people would have been
willing to state that they were in the United States of America.  Yes, it
was just a typical inner-city alley in the U.S. at night, at first glance.
        
        Well, it would be more appropriate to state that it looked like a
typical inner-city alley would, if you were selectively blind and deaf, that
is.  Any normal person who, either because they weren't afraid of who could
be in that alley or who were the kind of predator who called this kind
of place part of their way of being, would normally have gone into that alley
would unconciously avoid it, and never know how lucky they had just been.
Any... unusual beings would passed by this alley on this night would have
been very curious, but not so much as to disturb (if they even could)
whomever or whatever wanted this particular alley on this particular night.
To anyone who would pay attention there were signs that something was wrong
in this alley.

        First there were the shadows, they were too dark and thick.  Even
during the early morning hours before dawn there should have been more light. 
If not from the Moon or the stars then from the lights mankind has used since
it discovered how to create fire, in its futile efforts to hold back the
Darkness, with all it represented and held within itself.

        Then there were the sounds, or rather the utter lack of sounds coming
from the alley.  No cats were giving their renditions of Pavarotti, no planes
landing or taking off, no sirens wailing, absolutely nothing.  The absence of
noise was so great that it seemed louder and more deafening then any noise
could be.

        It was as if the alley and the rest of the universe had come to an
understanding in which each had agreed to totally ignore the other.  No one
who passed by the alley wished to enter it, just as those in the alley
wished.  Not even those who knew that their desire to stay out of the alley
wasn't their desire; not even those beings whose claims of being human
were... questionable.

        Of course, the biggest hint that Something Is Wrong Here were the
two people fighting in the alley.  Once a viewer got over the shock of the
fight itself they would realize that no normal human had weapons like these,
that magic was the weapon of choice for this fight.  Then they would most
likely look more closely at the two fighting, and see that although one
appeared to be male and the other female, neither were human.  And then,
if it hadn't already happenned, they would get hit by... something and learn
first hand 'who's right' on that old question: 'what happens after you're
dead?'  For the types and raw amounts of power being used here would have
brought awe and fear into the hearts of all but a few of the more...
unnatural beings that called this world home.

        Not that any such being was there to watch this battle, any that
passed by this alley would have recognized the signs that someone who
really didn't want to be disturbed was in this alley and would have left
well enough alone. And as for the reactions of a normal human, they were
even more academic, since even if a human wanted to go into this alley
they wouldn't have been able to get past the barriers on it.  In fact
they would think that they just decided not to go in on their own.  Any
such individual would have been well advised to buy a lottery ticket,
because this was their lucky day.

        The alley itself was quite well lit, by the attacks and defences
being used by the combatants, and from the fires lit by those attacks.
Lances of light and arrows of darkness were cast from one of the alley to
the other.  Nearly blinding flashes of blue-green or yellow light erupted as
shields strained to protect their creators.  Neither fighter moved a
muscle, dodging in the confines of the alley would have been futile as well
as a waste of time and energy.  No, this was a test of power, endurance and
cunning.  No gestures were made, no curses uttered, no cries of pain passed
their lips and neither paid the least attention to the foul odors in the
alley unleashed by the various fires in the refuse their attacks had created.
Sweat flowed down their faces and plastered their clothes to their forms, as
blood dripped on the pavement from newly created wounds as both were now
weakened to the point where their defences could not be counted on to stop or
deflect the other's attacks completely.  It would have been obvious to any
observers that neither one could continue much longer.

        As one, both combatants cast their next attacks.  From the man, a
wave of sickly yellow flames; from the woman, a ray of blue-green light.
Both visibly braced themselves in the few seconds before the other's attack
hit.

        The man was hit first.  His shields flared a sickly yellow that, for
a split second, was brighter than the sun and then, with a loud bang of
inrushing air, collapsed.  The remanants of the blue-green light seemed to
gather itself as it sped towards it's target before he could do anything...
and created a furrow through the lower left side of his chest.  The man
gasped in pain and, white-faced, went down to one knee.

        Now it was the woman's turn.  As her opponents shields had, hers
also flared for an instant, in the same blue-green color as her ray, before
collapsing.  However the components of the jet of yellow flame didn't try to
gather together before striking her but instead linked themselves together
after they had hit her, forming a body-fitting yellow net around her.  As she
lost her balance and started to fall a scream of rage and terror tore itself
from her throat.  The bonds on her didn't hurt but they kept her from moving,
from using her magic on others or from willing herself to death.  She had
lost, and now a death that was quick and painless was more than she could
possibly hope for.

        She watched him stand back up after his third attempt and brush
dirt, ashes and less identifiable things from the left leg of his white three
piece suit.  As he calmly walked towards her she found that her mind, racing
in thousands of different directions in a vain attempt to find a way to
survive, was dispassionately reading her foe's appearance.

        He was the more human looking of the two, with just one or two
accessories he could have gone anywhere and be thought to be human.  He was
two inches taller than her own five feet and seven inches and looked to be
in excellent physical condition without going overboard on developing his
muscles.  His long-fingered and delicate looking hands would have most
people wondering if he was a doctor, or perhaps a musician.  His thick,
snow-white hair was slicked back over his face and went down to his shoulders,
where it almost seemed as if it was hiding in the dress shirt and vest of the
same color, where his blood had not stained it red.  His unlined face was
shaped by his high cheekbones, slightly pointed chin and thick lips.  It was
a face of someone in his twenties who enjoyed himself and life.  And then you
looked into his eyes and realized everything you thought about him was wrong.

        His eyes were sickly yellow colored orbs with jet black slitted
pupils.  They were more uncarring and cold-blooded than those of any reptile,
unless he was happy about something.  And the things that would please him
left even her cold and shaken.  At the moment his eyes were sparkling like
diamonds, and he was giving her a wide, friendly smile.  Despite herself a
small, desperate moan escaped her and she started to shiver.  His smile just
grew wider and his eyes sparkled even more as he stopped an inch away from
her and just stood there, watching her.  She absently noted that his wounds
appeared to have all sealed and were all but totally healed.

        After a few seconds the woman the woman asked, "Why are you doing
this, Set?"  Her voice was shaded with the terror showing in her blue-green
eyes but, for now at least, she was able to keep it from causing her, or her
voice, to shake.

        Set just shook his head at her like she was a student that, despite
his best efforts, just couldn't quite understand a basic equation.  "Our
people need leadership," his smooth, cultured voice sounded as kind and
sympathetic as ever, as much as a lie as ever.  "We are scattered into
all these petty groups and clans.  Instead of claiming our rightful place in
this world most the clans are happy to slowly rot away in the Dark and even
in the ranks of those who have succeeded in escaping from there to the Earth
and, much as it pains me to admit it, among the members of our clan who
decided not to lock ourselves away in the Dark long ago there are far too few
who wish to see either the rifts in our people healed or have us take our
rightful place here, let alone wish for both, and none at all among the
elders of our clan."

        Set sighed and looked sadly at her before continuing, "To be fair to
the Elders even if all of them wished for these things it would not be
enough.  No, not even if one had the respect of all our people, both renegade
and clan, would you be able to fufill both or perhaps even one of the goals I
mentioned.  What is needed is someone who gains the respect of our clan, the
renegades, and our lost kin; only then can success be assurred.  And that can
only be done by defeating the Leader.  Because then I'd be the leader, not
only of the other clans but also ours, because of the proclamation made by
the elders, shortly before the old Guardian... retired"

        "You're mad Set," the woman whispered incredulously.  "The Leader
was old even when he led the other clans permenantly back to the Dark, and
he's only grown more powerful since.  How can you hope to defeat him?  And
don't forget about the Guardian... what will you do about Miyu?"  By the end
of her last sentence the incredulous whisper had grown stronger, and had
changed to become mocking.  Now it was her turn to shake her head, in
obviously faked sympathy; or at least shake it as much as her bonds would
allow.  Her wide grin showed teeth that were too sharp and long to ever
have been in a human mouth.

        Set's face lost all traces of sympathy and kindness and became cold
and hard as he harshy snarled, "I'll get the power I'll need to beat that
old fool when I drain their precious Guardian and her boy-toy of all their
energy!"  He twisted his lips into what some might have called as smile, his
perfectly white and even teeth gleaming, as he saw her mocking grin vanish
as first shock and then horrified realization raced across her face.

        "That's... that's why you've killed three of us in the last year
isn't it, Set?  You've finally figured out how to drain other Shinma as you
do humans.  That's why you're so much stronger then you were, why you could
defeat me."  Her voice calmed down after breaking for a second, and by the
end both voice and face were flat and showed no emotion.  Inside though, she
screamed and, after one final attempts to break the bonds holding her, turned
her mind to the only option she felt she had left.  But she needed time, and
prayed to her ancestors that Set was just as vain and willing to boast and
gloat as he had been when she had last met him.

        "Yes, I've done what none other has,"  Set was grinning happily at
his captive.  "Not even the prodigal, Larva could do what I can.  Miyu is
probably the only Shinma who has come even close to what I can do, and even
with her all that feeding on Larva did was finish awakenning her powers and
bind him to her service."  As he slowly ran his eyes up and down her body,
his eyes sparkling more and more and his grin grew wider and became lewd.
He slowly licked his lips before speaking and when he did it was in a soft
whisper that most would use to say 'I love you', "It requires a bit of time,
I must admit, and some minor rituals to drain another Shinma but I've found
that it just increases the anticipation for both parties.  Which is for the
best really, since these things shouldn't be rushed.  Yes, my dear, your
pain will be meat and your fear my drink.  I'll feed on you until I've
emptied you both mentally and physically.  I wonder if you'll be able to
last, longer than your friend in Detroit did?  I certainly h-"

        Suddenly, he straightened up and his face filled an boisterous mix of
fear and surprise as he felt his captive release something powerful.  A
blinding blue-green flash caused Set to stagger back a few steps and brought
down the wards on the alley they had raised before beginning their battle.  A
scream that was cut off almost before it could begin issued forth from where
his captive had been a split second before.  When he could see again he was
almost surprised that she hadn't escaped.  Then he took a closer look at her
and swore in a language that was old even when Imhotep was still alive in
ancient Egypt.

        Her blue-green eyes were empty, utterly empty, her body lay as if it
were boneless, her foot-long jet black claws and talons were coated with her
own blood from when they had tore into her own body and a thin stream of
drool was trickling out of her slack mouth.  While he had enjoyed himself by
telling her what he planned, she had gathered her remaining power and had
taken the only route of escape, the only way to turn his victory into a
pyrrhic one.  She had burned out her own mind.

        Then Set smiled again and put out his left hand, palm upwards, like
he expected something to be put into it.  The yellow bonds surrounding the
slim, blue haired Shinma seemed to contract for a split second before leaping
into his palm.  Set clenched his left hand into a fist for a second then
opened it again.  In that palm there was now a blue-green, cabochon cut
saphire.

        Set started to quietly laugh and said, bowing mockingly to the dead
body of his opponent, "Well done!  But, you should always remember, there's
more than one way to skin a cat!" And then the darkness swallowed him up
as if he had never been there.

        The Los Angeles police department's preternatural crimes unit would
be in the alley in less than an hour.  The charred and desicated humanoid
husk would never be identified or any suspects questioned.  In that, at
least, this would be typical for an inner-city alley.



                Hacks from Hell, Unlimited

                   in co-operation with

           Evil Entities for a Darker Tomorrow's
                     Department Three

                          and

      The Whip Cream and Razor Blades Corporation's
                 North American Division

                        presents


            Dawn of Darkness: Into the Abyss


  A Vampire Princess Miyu / Anita Blake: Vampire Hunter
                       Crossover

                          by

                     Joey O'Leary
                          aka
                    The Apprentice

        Anita Blake, Jean-Claude and all other characters taken from the
Anita Blake: Vampire Hunter novels are property of Laurell K. Hamilton.

        Miyu, Larva, and all other characters taken from Vampire Princess
Miyu are the property of Toshihiro Hirano and Narumi Kakinouchi.

        Unless otherwise noted all other characters are the mine.  Please
get permission before using them.

Thank you's go out to:
        Megazone, Gryphon, ReRob and everyone else who's wrote something in
that epic tale known as Undocumented Features.  You're the ones responsible
for getting me interested in Manga and Anime, again.  
        Darren Steffler (aka Twister) for Twisted Path and Twister.  For
showing me the joys of Ranma 1/2 and reminding me that it *is* possible to
have a great self-insertion fanfic without reading UF.  And for Puck, the
Canadian god who, it seems, is about to father a race of half-elves all on
his own. 
        Bert Van Vliet.  For revealing to us that it is possible to be more
of a pain to Sylia than Priss and Mackie combined.  Frankly, I'm surprised
you haven't given her an ulcer yet. 
        Hitomi Ichinohei.  For amazing me with the number of fanfics she can
have going at once, yet have all of them be of superior quality.  I'm still
working (some) on that BGC 'fic I told you about, Hitomi.  Believe it or not,
it's what's caused me to create this one.
        Barry Cadwgan.  For giving me (in no particular order):
spellchecking services; inspiration; ideas; comments and criticism;
encouragement; and assurances that just because I'm able to write characters
like Set, is no reason to see a psychiatrist.
        For White Wolf and the rest of the FFML.  For great stories and
a chance to have this thing looked at.
        To Toshihira Hirano and Narumi Kakinouchi, for giving us Miyu.
        And, finally, to Laurell K. Hamilton.  For showing me that it was
possible to mix horror, fantasy, mystery and a bit of romance together.  For
giving us vampires that are truely monsters, but showing that humans could
be monstrous as well.  For Anita Blake herself; a strong, smart heroine who
doesn't shriek when the monsters are after her, but instead gives them nine
millimeter headaches.  And for Jean-Claude; a hero and villian all at once
whom I can't help but root for.


        Any praise, comments, corrections, advice or out-and-out flames that
you decide shouldn't be made public should be sent to:
        tim.oleary@pei.sympatico.ca
But, please, put something in the header so the other people I share my
account with will know it's for me.

Thanks.