. . .3 Weeks later. . .
. . . At 4:34 PM (Same day). . .
“Chai-Ong!” Floyd yells. “Don’t do it.”
Floyd’s voice echoes down the hall. The words that a child could have fallen down to, bright, dust falling from the air, hearing people running down towards him, and that he made the mess happen, and that he avenged his family. Floyd had not come into the picture when the mess was being made. This wasn’t an ordinary case for them as partners.
“I’m coming.” Chai-Ong said; holding his gun up at Andrew. “Wait for me.”
Chai-Ong had not thought today may ever happen. Today had felt like it may never, ever happen
To think it started as . . . just an ordinary day.
. . . At 9:49 AM (Same day). . .
. . . Outside the airport. . .
Detective Kate Lockley got into the Chinese police car. She closes the door right after entering. She buckles herself up then put her luggage on the seat right by her. She didn’t really want to be the one who looked to see who the detectives were driving her; besides, that wouldn’t end up pretty. . . right? She might be losing her mind from that long air trip and a snoring neighbor.
“Hello,” Floyd said, his head turned to Kate’s direction. “Welcome ta China!”
Kate’s face becomes whiter than a pillow case.
“Do-Doyle?” Kate stutters.
Floyd rolls his right eye.
“I’m not Doyle.” Floyd said, turning his head away from her. “We may look alike; but tere’s a clear difference between him and me.”
“You. . . You look—almost—but so alike.” Kate is struggling to understand this unnormal thing. It’s not quite normal to see someone who resembles a person who’s in Los Angelse. “What is the difference?”
“I’m in dah force,” Floyd said, as though it was a fact. “He’s not in dah force.”
“Doyle who?” Chia-Ong asks, driving away from the airport.
Chia-Ong honks at a hooded young man who shrugs and goes on.
“Allen Francis Doyle.” Floyd said. “ Chai-Ong, ya know dah counterpart I told ya about tree weeks ago?”
“Well, dat’s him.” Floyd said.
Chia-Ong has an eureka moment.
“Ooooooh him.” Davies said. “Hey, isn’t that similar to your name, with the initials and all. . “
“We are different,” Floyd sticks to his thought on it. Floyd punches Chia-Ong’s shoulder. “Stop it; Davies.”
Davies? It suddenly began to occur to Kate that this was an apparently opposite version of Angel Investigations. She only knew about Angel Investigations because Doyle had to tell her that too. Maybe she should have taken Doyle’s warning for what it was before going into the airport several hours ago. . .Something about a vision that involved dust, hearing ‘Detective Kate!’, something big landing on the street, and terrified screams. It was Doyle’s most ‘vague’ vision that he ever had.
“Davies?” Kate recalls the bloody murder scene of Doyle’s friend Davies.
Chia-Ong laughs, driving away from the airport.
“Chai-Ong Davies.” Chai-ong said, as he whistles. “I go by Chia-Ong.”
Detective Kate is here for a case that is similar to hers. Floyd is looking at a needle that has some unusual liquid in it. Chai-Ong talks and talks while Floyd contemplates about using this needle. It wasn’t drugs or anything that bad. He murmurs to himself that maybe using this might not be such a good idea at all. Kate listens to what Chia-Ong; filling her in on the new leads on the case. There are some new leads but not a lot.
. . . 11:45 AM. (Same day) . .
. . Police station. . .
Kate walks into the Police station, and inadventurely hears Floyd talking on the phone.
“Demonica,” Floyd is talking over the intercomn. “I know—“ He covers his left ear; listening in to what Demonica has to say. “I don’t like it as ya do. It’s not my fault dat . . “Floyd sighs, as though he’s had this conversation numerous times over the phone.
Kate looks up from a file to Chia-Ong.
“Girlfriend troubles.” Chia-Ong said. “They’ve been arguing for half an hour.” He snickers at the ‘half an hour’ part of his speech. He looks up towards Kate. “What brought you back here?”
Kate shows him a photo of Cornelia.
“She looks like someone I know.”
Chai-Ong recognized Cornelia as the woman who got away.
Chia-Ong hands back the photo to her.
“Cordelia Chase; but, this suspect to my case is very different.”
We can hear Floyd argue back with Demonica, “Ya don’t say!” Floyd flashes a fake, apologetic smile as he heads into a different room where they wouldn’t hear the rest of this conversation. It seemed odd to Kate but to Chia-Ong this did not bother him. It wasn’t by far silent in the station. Chia-Ong meekly shrugs as though he’s not the nosy one.
“Perhaps she has a relative who resides here.” Chia-Ong suggests. “And maybe it’s not a coincidence.”
“I got her address.” Kate said. “And not everyone in China trusts me . . .”
“You are an American, go figure.” Chai-Ong said, as a cart whisks by his desk. He snaps his two fingers as though he realized something minor in particular. “Oh right; which lead did you follow up on?”
“The grocery shoplifting.”
“That one, riiighhhtt.”
“And I only got to interview them by some-store clerk who did the translating; my Chinese is very rusty.”
Chia-Ong tips back a magazine into a cabinet door and then closed it.
“Ah; it’s all right, Floyd’s Chinese is really horrible. “ Chia-Ong admits to his partners Chinese despite him living there for a long time. Though he adds, “ . . . when he wants to speak wrong.”
“Do you mean ‘To speak right’?” She asks.
Chia-Ong laughs, as he slaps his knee and shook his head.
“No.” Chai-Ong said. “I am not kidding. I know my partner doesn’t make sense half of the time; but it’s worth it.” He taps on the desk. “He. . . “ Chai-Ong’s eye’s glance down to some paperwork. “Convinced me not to go after my family’s killer when I had enough information to go after him.”
“Does this Andrew have a last name?”
“He’s a 150 years old or so.” Chai-ong then said with a sigh. “I don’t suppose he sticks with a last name for long.” Chai-Ong sighs, closing his eyes briefly before turning his attention away from the desk. “We are getting off topic; how is this woman getting around the globe without leaving China?”
Kate explains it to him.
“OOooh.” Chia-Ong said, and then begins counting his fingers. “Accomplices, body guards, and so many lies.” He sounds disgusted saying that. “And you sure that she even tricked Floyd’s counterpart into thinking she was . . . ?’
“Yes.” Kate said. “And he was about to go after her when Angel—When a friend of his stopped him.”
“Where was the right Cordelia?”
“She was on sleep pills.”
“At a spa; she didn’t know what was going on.”
“Maaaan.” Chai-Ong rubs the back of his neck. “Wish I could go to the Spa for FREE for one day.” He takes a sip from a glass then gulped it down. “Looks like I could get someone to do some sedating, some convincing, and a really coiled up iron tension.” He taps on his desk. “Now; really, why are you here?”
. . . 1:45 pm. . .
Floyd put the phone back down on the receiver. This is not the police station but actually a bar.
“Girlfriend just dumped ya, little man?” The Bartender, Hanks Wil-Ang, asks as he is using a rag to clean his hands. He is mostly known by his last name ‘Wil-Ang’ regardless that is a strange name among Chinese last names.
Floyd sighs, placing forward a dollar bill.
“No.” Floyd denies, sitting down on a chair. “We had an argument.”
“Just an argument.” Wil-Ang mocks Floyd. “What a load of bullcrap.”
Wil-Ang gets a cup and beer bottle.
“What kind of bullcrap did your lady pull?” A chinese man asks, smoking a cigar.
“No.” Floyd shook his head. “It’s. . . Only personal business.”
The men aligned to the bar merely laugh at his comment.
“We’ve heard worse.” The Chinese man said. “You can tell us.”
Floyd takes his drink after Wil-Ang fills it.
“Ya wanna know what kind of fight we got inta?” Floyd said. “Ten fine; we got inta an argument whether or not I should consider usin’ dah complete leckochen shot.” A few Chinese men seem clueless. “Mom met a human; fortunately she could morph himself ta a human like LeckoChen.”
Floyd takes a gulp from the glass.
“And pure Leckochen’s aren’t dat pretty.” Floyd said.
“So,what about the shots?”
“Oh yeah. If yer part human; ten whatever makes ya . . . . just yerself is removed ten ya dead. It’s like . . .A caterpillar becomin’ a butterfly dat loses somethin’. It-s—it’s like . . . “ Floyd put down the drink. “It’s like evolution, per say. Ya lose important thin’s—no wait. It’s like becomin’ a robot; losin’ dah humanity side of ya.”
“But your mother is a what?”
“My mom is dah product of testin’.” Floyd makes a hard admission. “Tree, dat was a perfect age to see her. She was in her prime when I was five. And it wasn’t pretty to see her . . . look ugly when I was ten. She degraded into this beast-hunch back furry creature; it was dah creepiest sight I ever saw. . . By dat time I was adopted by my dad’s parents. She didn’t even recognize me when I was twelve. They told me it was nothin’ and she wasn’t tere—but she was!”
Wil-Ang stopped pouring drinks.
“When I was fifteen; Mom was only thirty-one when . . . She died.”
“No!” Floyd said, his voice is trembling but the control of keeping himself together is still working. It was as though a puzzle piece is being held together by a single strip of tape. “She died because . . . . Her heart couldn’t handle the rapid changes. What tey were doin’ ta her was unforgiveable.”
“Who are they?”
Floyd fought back a smile.
“Good question.” Floyd took his refilled glass and drank it all. His voice drips in dread but there is a kind of sorrow that floats within some prefixes he’s saying. “I’ve been told dat it has started.”
Wil-Ang put his hand on Floyd’s shoulder that felt strangely a bit higher than it usually is.
“Little man, what’s started?”
“What has started?”
“You sound like a story teller; now don’t leave us hanging there.”
Floyd slides back the glass.
“I’m dyin’.” He said in a low voice. “No cancer.”
Floyd sighs in the deadly silent room.
“I’ve forgotten my first name.”Floyd said, looking down to his slightly larger hand. “It is goin’ faster tan tey expected; tey said I have a week.” His hands are shaking. “ I might be a half breed . . . but, my mom was an unfortunate test subject.” Floyd grits his teeth. His teeth are becoming sharper. “I would have lived longer, grantedly, if she didn’t . . . g—g-go to treat her knee.”
Wil-Ang takes his hand off.
“Tey said I can rush it.” He holds up a needle containing the liquid seen before hours ago. “And then make it so fast dat it can’t continue.”
“Rush yourself?” A man breaks the silence. “Are you insane?”
“I am perfectly sane,” Floyd said. “But ya aren’t.”
“Why, how, what?” The man asks.
“It’s painful to feel the insides of ya changin’,” Floyd has everyone’s attention to something most demons do not ever experience. He is speaking in fluent Chinese. “Yer skin feels as though heated iron is bein’ torn through it, spikes feel like tey are growin’, hands are becomin’ rough—larger-- and a bit furry even if ya don’t want it ta change.”
Dead silence is in the bar.
“Mom used to tell me to ‘look away, do not feel pity for me, and stay away.’ when I was old enough.” Floyd sighs. We see his fingers are growing longer. He briefly closes his eyes at this fast-increasingly rate is going on in his body. “And I can’t do dat anymore.”
Floyd’s eyes re-open from the brief close. Floyd sounds scared what he is becoming. “I can’t morph freely as I want ta.” Floyd admits to his problematic trait. “If I do; ten I’m stuck until my body is so large and werewolf like. . . losin’ dah ability ta tink right is horrible.”
Floyd’s hands slowly have small, unnoticeable thorns growing on them.
“Where am I again?” Floyd then asks, confused.
The men step away from Floyd scared for their lives.
“Little Man.” Wil-Ang begins in a soft, low whispery voice. “. . . How long do you have?”
“For what?” Floyd is startled by the questions.
“Little man,” Wil Ang says in the most normal way possible. “You are becoming a pure Leckochen,” No one is around Floyd. “now you better tell us how long you have!”
Floyd did not recall telling them about this, but he goes on to tell anyway.
“Two days.” Floyd said, he looks down to see he is holding the needle. His eyes tell without mistake that he is downright frustrated with this incredible speed. “Ah hell.”
Floyd saw his hand is becoming furry. The fur on his hands are peeling back—this time not showing skin but a different hard, plated surface—very easily. The thorns were sticking out as though they belonged there. He turns over his hand to see the palms have become hardened. His body tenses up.
“It’s increasin’!” Floyd gets up from his seat. “And I’m losin’ my memory!”
Floyd goes towards the left hand side of the bar.
“Move, move, move, I have ta go!”
Floyd goes out the back door.
. . . . 4:20 PM. (Same day). . .
“That much I owe him.” Chai-ong said; as he pulled up to the Crew’s building. He had finished explaining a recent case where they were being chased by some gun-firing Chinese mafia. He could tell that Kate is not convinced by her authoritical like voice. It didn’t take much for him to know that she is not a believer.
The car is stopped.
“He pulled you out of the gunfire.” Kate restates the main theme. “And you owe him.”
“I owe him more than a favor, Detective Kate.” Chai-ong said. “If you knew what a demon would for you; as a loyal friend, then perhaps you would understand that they are not ones you should mess with.” Chia-Ong has parked the car, and then he unbuckles and gets out. “When he wants to save someone; he’s willing to do it even if it may cost his life.”
“He sounds a lot like Doyle.”
“He’s nothing like Doyle. He doesn’t take revenge lightly—hard.”
“Revenge may be sweet, but it’s tempting to everyone; by my experience with Doyle and meeting Floyd. . . “ Kate gets unbuckled, gets out, and shuts the door. She has one hand on her gun. “Counterparts can be strongly alike; even if they deny it.”
“Floyd used to be . . . .”
“A married man?”
“No!” Chai-Ong glares at her. “He used to be a bad guy.”
Detective Kate’s eyebrows shot up, as she goes in first.
“I told you so.” Chai-Ong said. “Now who’s the one who’s right?” He points to himself. “Yes. That’s right: Me!”
We see a scene transition to Floyd.
“Floyd’s probably making up for the argument with Demonica.” Chia-Ong said.
Floyd is trying to keep his leckoChen half from taking over. His eyes are changing from green to a heartless white.
“No, he’s probably drinking at a bar.”
Floyd is seen taking out a small, advanced phone. There’s a text message from Chia-Ong with the address where they are going and also said: “Come, if you have made up with Demonica, Man.” His heartrate is becoming faster. You can see his hairline is slightly growing. His fingernails have become sharp as an iron pillar. He knew the address too well. Floyd’s hands have become covered in scales that no longer have fur over them with sharp thorns. He’s been there numerous times before getting into the force.
Floyd looks horrified at his left hand; his childhood memories are slipping away.
He’s got a few hours before the change takes him over.
“I like to say he’s making up with his girlfriend at the bar,Detective Kate.”
Floyd senses something is going to go wrong today. Not with him; but with Kate and Chia-Ong’s arrival to the Crew’s HQ.
“Lower your voice.”
Floyd is no longer seen in his room but there’s definitely claw marks seen on the wall towards the door.
“Why?” Chia-Ong asks, raising his voice.
Detective Kate goes into the closet with Chai-ong, shutting the door behind them.
“Andy, there is no one here.” Cornelia yells back.
“I swear someone was there, Corny!”
Kate covers her mouth, holding back a laugh.
“It’s not Corny, Andy!”
“Isn’t that what Floyd called you?”
“That’s it. I’m going out for some fresh air.”
Cornelia storms out the building followed by a couple other demons. Kate and Chai-Ong share a rather interesting debate whether or not to go after Cornelia. Ten minutes later they finally came to a solution: They would kill Andrew. Andrew is the target; he is the most accessible one. Cornelia would be a different story to get taken down into custody. Vampires, on the other hand, cannot be taken into custody without burning to death in jail.
. . 4:32 PM (Same day). . .
Kate somehow got separated from Chai-Ong in the building. She heard Chai-Ong’s startled yell. He is the only man in the building that she knows of may scream that loud (with Floyd being the one who told her about him screaming like a girl in the first place) Detective Kate takes a turn to the left and saw Floyd.
“Floyd!” Kate yelps. “You nearly scared me—what’s up with your hand?”
Floyd leans against the wall, holding a needle.
“I’m dyin’.” Floyd said. “And I want ya to know dat becomin’ a beast can kill a half bred leckochen whose parent was genetically messed up. Yes, I inherited a gene dat was flawed terribly.”
“Gene gone wrong, you mean.” Kate jokingly said.
“I’m making a sacrifice.” Floyd tells her, rolling up his sleeves.
Kate’s eyebrows rose up.
“What?” She asks. “What form of sacrifice are you talking about?”
He gives her a ‘Really?” reaction as though he just told her.
“I want ya ta get out of here.” Floyd said. “It’s not goin’ ta be pretty.”
Kate puts her foot on a stool’s edge.
“I know about Brachens.” Kate tells him.
“ . . . If I charge at Chai-Ong; shoot me.” Floyd tells her. “Shoot me as many times as ya want. Whatever does the job.”
“Why?” Kate asks.
“Because ya must do it; citizens would get panicked, paranoid, and tere could be a revolution of dah sorts.” He watches her face become fearful and pale.“Now, ya should do it and let Chia-Ong get Cornelia. You shouldn’t cry because of me. You are protected? Good, ten don’t keep tose walls up high for tomorrow. Ya need ta let it out; perhaps if we knew each other well enough it wouldn’t be so rushed. Ya just met me and ya already cryin’.”
“I always have known you.” Kate wipes off her tears.
“No,” Floyd said, injecting the needle into his right arm. “You have not me until today; this isn’t The Tragedy of Floyd and Kate; not Shakespeare. Tell Chai-Ong: It was never your fault. Tell him to go—g-go here.” He hands a slip of paper to her.
“Right.” Kate gulps, holding the paper.
Floyd shifted himself towards the corner of the hallway.
“Chai-Ong!” Floyd yells down the hallway, taking out the needle that is empty. “Don’t do it.”
Floyd’s voice echoes down the hallway.
“I’m coming!” Chai-Ong yells back; holding his gun up at Andrew. “Wait for me.”
Chai-Ong had not thought today may ever happen.
“I am not waitin’ anymore.” Floyd grits his teeth as the side of his face is becoming furry that’s peeling off to show a reptile like characteristic. “Now step away.” Floyd orders her as he threw the needle to the floor. He clenches his shoulder feeling severe pain coming in. “Say goodbye to dah face ya could have known.”
Floyd watches the memories of his life slip away into a blank slate.
“I see it every day.” Kate whispers, earning a faint smile from what was left of Floyd. . . Technically at the moment even though he looks human there’s a change going on inside of him.
Kate watches Floyd change before her eyes. He grows taller and taller as his legs become skinner and slightly wider as he does not look human anymore. ‘Floyd’ looks like a wild, animal bred demon with spikes trailing down his back (No tail), his face is not human, his head is the combination of a rabbit and goat, and a fox combined. Kate hides behind the corner of the hallway.
The Leckochen runs the opposite direction of the hallway on all fours straight to where Andrew and Chia-Ong are at a standoff.
“Ready to kill me, Cop?” Andrew asks, tauntingly.
“You killed my entire family.” Chai-ong warns him, in a threatening manner.
“Oh, you are that kid.” Andrew said, nodding his head. “I thought you would have died by now.”
“I didn’t plan to kill you here.” Chai-Ong fires a warning shot into the ceiling. “We were intending to get Cornelia for her crimes.”
Andrew then lunges at Chai-Ong however a gigantic and huge muscular pure bred Leckochen slams Andrew into the floor. Chai-Ong’s hands are trembling. Chai-Ong takes a step back as the Leckochen punches Andrew fourteen times. Andrew bit the Leckochen’s left hand. We hear a yelp from the Leckochen. The two fought back numerous times as the Leckochen drags Andrew through the wall. The tremble in the wall is loud enough that it made Kate freeze.
“Floyd, stop it!” Andrew yells at him.
The Leckochen shoves him into the glass window.
“. . .Floyd?” Andrew said, seeing his head and face is nothing of a human. His mouth made the complete ‘o’ shape. His face changes from confusion to horror; it clicked in his mind what’s happening to him. Floyd had told him about his genetical problem that existed between him and his mother.
“Die you vampire.” Chai-ong said, in fluent Chinese.
The Leckochen forces Andrew out the window and let Andrew painfully burn into dust as he drops him from the building.
“Ffllloooooooyyyyyyyyyyydddddddd!” Andrew yells.
The Leckochen turns away from the window as burnt clothing lands on the street’s corner. It then lunges at Chai-Ong.
“ . . . If I charge at Chai-Ong; shoot me.”
Kate shot at The Leckochen’s back; where rounded holes were then made apparent.
“As many times as ya want.”
The Leckochen turns away from the freezing Chai-Ong who is horrified and frightened to see his partner is the monster.
“Whatever does the job.”
Kate takes out her gun and shot at The Leckochen until it fell down in the middle of the hall. Kate lowers her weapon, and then she feels for a pulse on the body. There is no pulse coming from The Leckochen’s body. Kate stands upright putting her guns back into their holders. There is almost nothing left to say.
“How old was Floyd?” Kate asks.
“Twenty-five.” Chai-Ong said. “A life for a life.”
Chai-Ong took out his phone.
“He wanted me to give you this.” Kate hands Chai-Ong the paper.
Chai-Ong looks up from the paper to Kate as he had started dialing a phone number.
“It was never your fault.” Kate said. “Don’t understand what he meant by that.”
Chai-Ong looks over to the dead reptile like monster; that paper had information to go meet with some people who could explain what happened to Floyd. Chai-Ong wanted answers of his own. But finding Cornelia is a top priority to him; and he felt so good that Andrew is gone. He was only a child when his family was taken away. He was playing hide ‘n seek; Chai-Ong had been dealing with survivors guilt for a good deal of his life.
“I survived.” He said. “Again; nice going with the reflection, Floyd.”
And then he had to make the most painful call to Floyd’s three month pregnant girlfriend Demonica.
. . . Los Angelese. . . 8:49 PM. . .
. . Angel Investigations . . .
“Hey Angel,” Doyle said. “Are yer sure dat ya all right?”
Angel frowns, standing by the desk with a phone. He’s obvious waiting for a call from someone such as Buffy, assumingly. It was a great assumption on Doyle’s part. Even when family is in danger there has to be some hope in life. Hope that brightens a day in the life of some random individual that strives them to become a hero, or make a difference, and that’s what Doyle did.
“I’m just fine.” Angel said, waving a hand. “Go on and have some time with them. Some people don’t have eternity.”
Doyle shook his head, amused as he shut the door behind him.
Angel answers the phone.
“Is our little agreement holding up?” A voice on the phone asks.
Angel listens for the door to close.
“Yeah.” Angel said, pressing the phone against his ear. Doyle,Cordelia, and Wesley were out celebrating over a ‘big case’ that they worked on for some time. “It’s getting ready; don’t make me regret this.”
He hears a laugh.
“You are talking to the man who’s been alive,” Dean says from over the phone. “Longer than you.”