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Antwon's Fangs

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Summary: Farmington is infested with Antwon Mitchell, Vic Mackey, vampires, and a handful of demons. Which one is the bigger monster?

Categories Author Rating Chapters Words Recs Reviews Hits Published Updated Complete
Television > Shield, TheLancerFourSevenFR15925,7712131,51514 Apr 1328 May 13No

Chapter Two

The Shield and Buffy the Vampire Slayer
in a crossover FanFiction

Antwon's Fangs

AKA LancerFourSeven
& AKA STFarnham
See Chapter One for Disclaimer

Chapter Two

Dr. George Johnson flew home one day early. One day, one day was all it took to turn his life upside down. Well, it wasn't that much of surprise to him, he'd been expecting something like this, but he had truly hoped for a change, a change that wasn't to be.

It was the end of a long trying day; talking with sales and marketing people always wore him down. It was after midnight when he opened the front door of his house that overlooked LA and a puff of fragrant smoke wafted out.

"Dad? Dad! What are you doing home so early?"

Dr. Johnson looked at his living room with a heavy heart. He counted at least six lethargic occupants, four of them partially naked, two bongs, a bowl of assorted pills, several baggies of green leafy substance, and some horrific noise which he assumed was music coming from what appeared to be a half melted plastic box. He stood still in the doorway for nearly a full minute under the baleful gaze of a roomful of druggies, including his own son.

"Out," he said with exaggerated calm.

"But dad, these are my friends, you can't send them home in the middle of the night in their condition! That might cause an accident and you'd be liable!

"Dr. Johnson replied, "No, not just your friends, all of you. Out, now."

George Junior looked shocked. "Me too? You're throwing me out of my own home?"

"You've got it in one – this is no longer your home. I'm disowning you."

"What! You can't do that!"

"You're over eighteen, so I can, and I'm doing it. I never want to be this disappointed again, and it's apparent that the only way that will happen is if I never see you again."

Junior smirked, "Oh, now we get the 'this hurts me more than you' speech, you fucking old hypocrite you!"

"You misunderstand, I'm past all hurt. I failed, and I'm admitting it, and I'm tossing my mistake out with the garbage."

Young George managed another shocked look. "You mean it? You're really throwing me and my friends out on the street at midnight with no place to go and high as kites?"

"Yes. And take all this paraphernalia with you. Whatever you leave behind will be thrown out."

Seven hours later Dr. Johnson was standing at the foot of his driveway, tamping down several large plastic bags in four large garbage cans, when a police car drove up. He looked up without curiosity and watched as two police officers, one white female and one black male, approached him. "Are you Dr. Johnson?" asked the woman.

"Yes," he replied noncommittally.

"We've received a complaint that loud music and partying with drugs occurred here through the night. Is there anything you'd like to say to that?"

"I suppose it was true. I came home from a business trip around midnight and found my son and his friends in a drugged stupor. I kicked all of them out. They took their drugs with them, but left some of their toys, it's all here in the trash."

The black cop looked sympathetic, the woman didn't react one way or another except to relax slightly. "Do you mind if we look around?" she asked.

"Go ahead," he replied dully, as if he had little left to care about.

The cops wandered through the house, noticing the appearance of hasty cleaning in the living room. They could smell the remains of the party. "What do you think Julian?"

"I believe him, Dannie. He looks like hell, I'm going to recommend he see my priest, that man is deeply troubled. Just like anyone would be who just tossed their kid into the street."

"Now what did I tell you about getting too close? He's probably a skel, you know."

"I can't help it, I feel sorry for the man."

They walked out a few minutes later and found Dr. Johnson standing by his garbage cans, staring at the ground but seeing nothing at all."If you want, we'll keep an eye out for your son," officer Julian Lowe said gently.

"It's too late, it no longer matters, he's no longer part of my life, I don't have a son now."

A week later Jules dragged himself into Antwon's warehouse. He looked like a man preparing for his own execution. Antwon spotted him.

"Fuck," said Antwon when he spotted Jules, "don't fuckin' tell me."

"Yes, that girl with a sword, she..."

Antwon Mitchell angrily threw a half-full Budweiser at Jules; Jules barely dodged it, but got drenched when the bottle broke against the wall behind him.

"FUCK!" yelled Antwon, "I can't fucking believe this! Twice? TWICE! Twice you been jacked now? By the same dimwit fuckin' cunt!? And she don't even have a fuckin' gun? How come she ain't dead? Where the fuck is Peas and 8-Ball? Anyone seen 'em?"

There was silence from his crew.

"Jules, if I find, I even begin to suspect that you know somethin' 'bout this, you're gonna regret it. So's your whole fuckin' family: parents, brothers an' sisters an' I knows every one of 'em, cousins, girlfriends, kids... Ya see where I'm comin' at? You can't run, you can't hide, an' if you book, I'll fuck ya raw and bleedin' then I'll start cuttin' 'till ya beggin' fer death."

"I got it Antwon. But I don't know nuthin' you don't know."

Antwon threw himself back down in his worn Barca-Lounger and grabbed another beer. He angrily punched the button to turn on the massager, but it had given up the ghost due to the incredible overload caused by Antwon leaping into the chair too many times. "Only reason I don't kill you now is 'cuz my mama is friends wit' your mama. But you better be tellin true cuz if you ain't, I won't let that stop me from killin' everyone you love in the world wit you watchin'."

Lauren Riley carefully drove her SUV in low range 4WD down the rough track at an officer's direction. At the bottom she turned away from the old warehouse on the right to the field of trash and weeds to the left. Her dog barked excitedly from behind the wire screen. She parked next to a couple of unmarked police SUVs.

Vic Mackey smiled widely at her and came over to say hello. "Hey Lauren, long time no see! I was just thinkin' about callin' you."

"No you weren't. You haven't thought of me since our one and only date."

"That's not true."

"Then why haven't you called?" Lauren talked as she walked around to let her dog out of the back. "Gone back to your wife yet?"

"Naw, but I've been busy. The city pays me to put bad guys away and they expect me to do it."

"Yeah, yeah. So what do we have here?"

"Some kid's dog found a detached human hand and proudly brought it back to him. In the wonders never cease department, the mother actually called it in. Sheriffs deputies found a body dumped in a ditch. It was obviously a homicide, and there were some indications that connects this to a couple of our cases, so they called us for a joint investigation.

"So this guy here looks like he was buried some time ago and rain just washed away some topsoil. Only problem, the body they found has two hands and we still have an extra left hand without a matching right. So..."

"So it's up to Rover to do his thing." Lauren released her dog and gave him the command: "Search!" The dog took off, running back and forth steadily down the gully. He stopped and sat down, 'woofed' once and happily waited with his tongue hanging out. Lauren ran up and flagged the location. She said, 'Good dog!' and 'Search!' and the dog continued his pattern. A few minutes later he 'woofed' again and sat down. Another flag, another search. He paused at one spot, 'woofed', took a leak, then continued on without a command until he found another spot, woofed again, sat on his haunches and looked happily at Lauren.

Half an hour later they had twelve marked locations in the field. Lauren started to put the dog back in the car, but he looked towards the abandoned warehouse and growled softly. So Lauren gave him the 'search' command again and he loped towards the old building, the officers following along. Inside the dog had stopped on a patch of freshly poured concrete and 'woofed'.

"Shit!" said Mackey, "it's gonna be jackhammer time in here."

Lauren marked the spot and the dog continued searching. Eventually, they had more than a dozen places marked. Lauren said, "You know, each of these patches looks like they're big enough for multiple graves."

"Yeah, I think maybe we'll get the sonar mapping crew in here before we start digging. For one thing, I don't want to hit any electric or gas lines."

"Good thinking."

Lauren headed back to her car with both Rover and Detective Mackey dogging her steps.

"Lauren, come on. How 'bout dinner and a movie? Huh? Come on."

"Only if you remember to call me sometime when I'm not searching for dead bodies for you."


"We'll see."

When Lauren Riley got home she put her dog in the back yard, made sure he had food and water, then she searched through her desk drawers until she found a rarely used satellite phone. She punched '1' and waited. Finally there was an answer.

"Riley Finn."

"Hey, how's my favorite Finn?" said Lauren Riley.

"Not too shabby. How's the Riley branch doin'?"

"Oh you know, Rover and I found several dozen possible dead people and one possible dead – well – something you might be interested in checkin' out."

"Oh. Where?"

"West of Los Angeles, outside the Farmington district next to the Interstate, down an embankment, not far from a huge concrete drainage ditch. I can email you a map if you want. But you might need me to find the suspected, uh, you know what."

"Still can't say the word, huh?"

"No. I refuse to acknowledge they exist."

"And yet you still call me?"

"Yeah, well, I may not be large, but I still contain inconsistencies. Can you do something? Problem is, the cops may decide to dig there, even though Rover didn't mark the spot with anything other than dog piss. Oh, and there's two jurisdictions to worry about: LAPD and the County Sheriff's Department because it's just outside the city, but some of the bodies seem to be connected to a couple of Farmington cases."

"Nothing better for confusion than multiple jurisdictions. Okay, my unit can't get there anytime soon. But let me make some phone calls, someone will get back to you. And hey, you hang in there, okay? You're doin' good."

"Yeah sure, see ya."

A couple of weeks went by – detectives and forensics investigators were authorized rare overtime on the case since it was a very large body-dump for what must be a particularly odious criminal. But one day two detectives knocked on Antwon's door. He opened up and grimaced. "What do the po-po want wit' me now?"

"Are you Antwon Mitchell?"

"And what if I am?"

"Do you know a Lucy Mae Waltrip and Hotchkiss Landsteiner?"

Antwon laughed long and loud with obvious good humor. "Do I look like I know anyone named Lucy Mae or, what was it? Hotchkiss?"

"Otherwise known as Peas and 8-Ball."

Antwon's face shuttered right down. "I heard of 'em. They gots nuthin' to do wit' me. I don't know 'em. Watchoo askin' me fo?"

"We found their bodies buried in a gully west of Farmington. Along with a few others. Oddly enough, the guns found buried with Peas and 8-Ball are a match for the bullets found in several other bodies found in the same area. Would you know anything about that?"

"Of course not! Why would I? I'm re-formed, I teach Sunday school, I lecture the community, I'm workin' on being more involved with the church! You ain't got no call to be comin' 'round accusin' me of all these terrible, awful crimes!"

"Yeah, yeah, we know, you're a fine upstandin' citizen, Antwon."

"That's MISTER Mitchel to you."

"Yeah, sure. We've also identified three more of the bodies, and they're all either members, or I should say, ex-members, of your crew. Except one who we know for a fact used to be a competitor of yours."

"Get outta here! I don't know nuthin' bout 'nuthin. Either arrest me or get the fuck offa my property! From now on, if you have anythin' you wanna say ta me, you talk to my lawyer – he'll tell me what I need. Here's his card." He slammed the door shut.

George Johnson Jr. slowly regained consciousness. It felt like a family of unsynchronized pile-drivers had taken up residence in his skull; the pain was so overwhelming he could hardly think. His eyes were gummy and his nose dripped something. He started to wipe his face but he couldn't move his hands—he forced an eyelid up and took in his surroundings – what he saw horrified him. He quickly closed the eye. A moment later he took a look with his other eye, genuinely hoping that the scene would be different this time. But no, he was still chained to a steel rack in some kind of warehouse, his friends from the abbreviated party were chained next to him, all except Eddie – he was on the floor in front of hi – in several large pieces. What the fuck is this? he wondered. But it was more than he could accept – he passed out again.

Back at the Barn at the end of their shift, Julian asked Danny, "You want to join me in church? I'm going to see if I can persuade Dr. Johnson to come with me tonight for a little spiritual support."

Officer Dannie Sofer politely refrained from rolling her eyes. "No Julian, I don't think so. You go and do what you think you need to do without me."

Julian tried again, "It would do you good you know..."

Danny interrupted, "No it wouldn't, and anyway, this is Tuesday, my night for unarmed combat practice."

Julian smiled indulgently, "Oh yeah, you girls and your 'combat'. Good luck with that." He was not entirely successful at hiding his amusement.

"Hey, you can laugh, but our instructor could take you down before you knew it, Julian. She's good, and she's taught me and the other cops a lot, and the course isn't just for women you know."

Julian answered with a smile, "Yes, well I've met your 'instructor', she's a cheerleader with a hobby. When are you going to learn that upper body strength and sheer size is the biggest factor in a fight? Take me down? I don't think so. Besides, she'd have to disarm me first, and that just ain't gonna happen."

Vic Mackey walked by and overheard the conversation. "Ha, he's got you there Dannie, I know women cops add a lot to the force, even though you don't do as well with the rough stuff. But be careful that this instruction of yours doesn't make you overconfident."

Dannie was clearly affronted, "Vic, you're the poster child of overconfidence, the very image of the strutting overconfident overbearing rooster, and you're lecturing me on overconfident behavior? Grow up Vic."

"Hey, just tryin' to help. And you know I'll always have your back, you don't need to beat up suspects as long as I'm around."

"Oh that makes me sleep better," she replied, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

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