Tires squealed as Angel hurriedly pulled his GXT convertible up to the warehouse that Cordelia saw in her vision. He jumped out of the car as soon as he had it shut off, not even bothering with the door. He rushed inside; he didn’t have much time before it happened. He just hoped he got there before it did.
When he reached the top of the second story, the scene was playing out just like Cordelia had described to him between her clenched teeth. A group of policemen dressed in SWAT attire were being attacked by a horde of vampires, the occasional ‘pop, pop, pop’ of gunfire echoing through the old wooden building.
The authorities had caught wind of a drug deal, and proceeded accordingly, planning a raid as soon as possible.
What they hadn’t known was that the deal was taking place between two vampire nests, and the product wasn’t drugs; it was a mystical orb that Wolfram & Hart were interested in. If he didn’t interfere, there would be a lot of dead cops in here in less than 5 minutes.
Angel placed his fingers near his mouth and whistled as loud as he could, catching the attention of the eleven vampires. They started in recognition; even though he hadn’t been here that long, Angel was widely known throughout Los Angeles as a killer of his own kind and those with ill intent. Almost half of them ran right then and there. The remaining six decided to try their chances. Disregarding the policemen present, they charged at the party crasher. Angel could tell just by their tactically faulty attack and lacking strength that none of these vampires was a day over 40 years old.
They didn’t attack as one, instead attacking in a line one-by-one, which he proceeded to dispatch with relative ease.
The first swung at him wildly, and he quickly sidestepped the telegraphed attack, using his position to come in behind the fledgling with his stake, quickly punching it through his attacker’s heart before turning to the next.
Angel automatically ducked as bullets flew overhead. He spun around in the direction in which they had come from. There, the SWAT team had strategically lined themselves up using crates as cover. They had then begun to open fire on the hostiles. He had hoped that they would try to run as soon as he had the vampires distracted, but apparently luck was not on his side tonight. This was going to cause some problems.
Angel turned his attention back to the fight as one of the five remaining baddies tried to punch him in the face. Though the boys in blue were hitting their marks, the vampires didn’t stay down for long. Originally they were helping, but now Angel was having to avoid the metal projectiles as well. Within minutes, there was one vampire left. As soon as Angel dusted him, he was hit in the chest with a spray of automatic gunfire.
Belatedly he realized that he had shifted into his game face sometime during the fight, painting himself as a target to the stressed cops. He stumbled backwards, landing on an area of weak floorboards. The wood creaked and gave way, depositing Angel back to the ground floor. He lay there stunned for a few seconds. He regained his senses after he heard footsteps pounding down the stairs. He tried to stand, but had to stop at the sharp lancing pain in his leg; he looked down to find it twisted at an unnatural angle, broken. Vampires may heal fast, but it still took time.
He dragged himself to the door, hoisting himself up with help from the wall. He tried to take a step in the direction of his car, but fell forward when he let go of the support the doorway had provided. He spied a sewer entrance not far from where he lay. He made his way over to it as quickly as he could and lifted the tunnel cover. He shoved it over just enough where he could get through, then maneuvered himself into the opening.
As soon as he had gotten himself in and pulled the cover over, he slipped off of the step he was standing on, bringing him crashing to the dank floor below.