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“Mr. Luthor! Mr. Luthor!?” Lex hated his new assistant, the lisp, the constant questions, the obvious crush, sometimes he wished he could take a large sharp wooden stake and… “Yes, Shelia?” “Tanya on line four, she says it’s quite urgent.” Lex raised an eyebrow. Whatever had caused his hair to fall from his body mercifully spared his eyebrows, eyelashes, and the hair in his nose. Unfortunately it removed the rest like God’s own personal jar of Nads. “Yes, Tonya, what is it?” Tonya Banks, president of LexCorp Sunnydale, his fledgling little companies California branch screamed into the phone, something about slayers, and brooding, and the blood and… The line went dead, completely. “Sarah, fire up the chopper, we are going to California” ~+~+~+~ The limo stank. It was 2am, California time, the driver had this thick British accent, and was quite flippant. “Do you know where you’re going?” “Do you, you fascist bald wanker?” Ok, enough was enough, nobody talked to Lex that way. Not even a certain impudent farmboy back home. “What is your problem, driver?” Spike was broke, insane, and hungry, a bad combination. He had decided to pick up some nourishment by eating a limo driver, but had gotten caught up in this whole thing, and frankly he was sick of this bald headed bastard in the back seat. Spike lept, grabbed his victim, put his lips to his neck in a kiss, and sucked the life from him. Unfortunately the chip, which was working overtime, exploded, taking out his entire brain case. The dust that was Spike landed over Lex’s cooling corpse. |
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