New Beginnings
folder
BtVS Crossovers › Misc - Het - Male/Female
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
21
Views:
2,759
Reviews:
5
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
BtVS Crossovers › Misc - Het - Male/Female
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
21
Views:
2,759
Reviews:
5
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Buffy, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Chapter 6: Cyril James Beacham
Chapter 6
Cyril James Beacham
In the corner a shadow moved. It was a man. His heart was beating abnormally fast as he watched them worked on Luna. He stood apart from it all. Not wanting to touch or be touch by anyone. Only he knew that the poison Luna drank could also be administered by touch. He was dressed in a black tuxedo with tails and long white gloves. There was not a hint of skin showing except the skin upon his face. And if he could get away with it, his face would be covered up too.
For several months, he had been living in the shadows, watching Luna and his clan. He did not like to live in shadows, but he was comfortable in them. Plus living in shadows had taught him patience. His name was Cyril James Beacham and over the years, he’d several aliases, but ever so often, he dusted off his own name and used it. Cyril James Beacham was a self-made man. He followed the philosophy of Robin Hood, by robbing the rich and giving to the poor. The poor meaning him.
He was 161 years old, but he looked 27, and he exudes a confident and worldly charm that people are constantly drawn to him. He grew up in the streets of London and at a young age, he knew what he wanted and how to achieve it. He was the illegitimate son of an Earl and an actress. At age five, he was abandon by his mother. Through some odd circumstance, he found out that she had been blackmailing the Earl into providing money for his upkeep. However, when the Earl died in a carriage accident she was cut off financially. Because he stopped fulfilling any more purpose, his mother got rid of him.
One day, they went for a carriage ride, and after abandoning him on the street, she drove off, never once looking back. But to the actress regret, her sin came back to haunt her, because Cyril James Beacham, Cyril after her dead brother and James after his father, found her and her latest lover and poisoned them. He was fifteen years old at the time. The authorities never found out who had killed them. They didn’t care about a drunkard and a dead whore. As the years passed, Jimmy grew more ruthless. While growing up in the slums of London, fighting for survival, he had found many ways to exploit people.
As a lad, Jimmy would skulk in the alleyways waiting to rob people. He would run errands for a fee and people would pay to collect any information he would chance overhear. No one pays attention to the dirty urchin in the corner. During the years, he grew adept at how to manipulate any situation to his advantage.
One such situation came to mind. One night, while walking to his rooms above a bar, flush with his own success, he met a man, who was very hungry and who did not care that he might break laws, laws that were there to protect him. Nicholas Radley, member of the British peer, had not started out intending to embrace someone that night. What to him was a vagrant, someone who was disposable was instead a cunning and wily fellow, who then saw an opportunity, to be better physically, stronger and long lived. So that night at his peak of maturity Cyril James Beacham, became a Brujah.
As a human, James was ruthless, but as a Brujah, he was made ten times more so. He was always seeing an angle to any situation. Several months ago, he had heard about the upheaval in San Francisco and he decided it was a perfect time for a new Prince. James then blend in with other Brujah’s, never calling attention to him self. He wanted to make sure he was not noticeable. Just another Brujah.
For years, the Brujah has been acquiring positions as princes all over the U.S. In the East Coast alone, the cities are all Brujah owned. Now they wanted to own the West coast as well. James knew he was the man for the job. Did he not kill his own Primogen? Does he not own several properties here in the United States and Britain? The answer to both questions was yes.
He decided he had seen enough. He didn’t want to turn into a pumpkin by staying late. It was time to leave. He walked quickly to the door, making sure that no one was paying any attention to him.
Outside coming up the steps was Frank Kohanek. He had to move quickly out of the way, before he was knocked down. But he didn’t move quickly enough. The man bounces off him on his way out the door.
Frank turned to watch the man. Something about him was off, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. He strode through the open door, thinking to tell someone about it. But that thought went over quickly, when he went into the house and saw the chaos.
***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***
Across town in a darkened basement of a downtown apartment building, a hulking shadow stirred in a corner. He was grotesque. He had a high forehead, reptilian eyes, long matted hair with a protruding mouth and large canine teeth.
Walking into the basement to do her laundry, a woman turns on the lights. Hearing growling behind her, she slowly turned. She screamed loudly and long, fleeing the room with her basket of clothes scattered on the floor behind her.
Cyril James Beacham
In the corner a shadow moved. It was a man. His heart was beating abnormally fast as he watched them worked on Luna. He stood apart from it all. Not wanting to touch or be touch by anyone. Only he knew that the poison Luna drank could also be administered by touch. He was dressed in a black tuxedo with tails and long white gloves. There was not a hint of skin showing except the skin upon his face. And if he could get away with it, his face would be covered up too.
For several months, he had been living in the shadows, watching Luna and his clan. He did not like to live in shadows, but he was comfortable in them. Plus living in shadows had taught him patience. His name was Cyril James Beacham and over the years, he’d several aliases, but ever so often, he dusted off his own name and used it. Cyril James Beacham was a self-made man. He followed the philosophy of Robin Hood, by robbing the rich and giving to the poor. The poor meaning him.
He was 161 years old, but he looked 27, and he exudes a confident and worldly charm that people are constantly drawn to him. He grew up in the streets of London and at a young age, he knew what he wanted and how to achieve it. He was the illegitimate son of an Earl and an actress. At age five, he was abandon by his mother. Through some odd circumstance, he found out that she had been blackmailing the Earl into providing money for his upkeep. However, when the Earl died in a carriage accident she was cut off financially. Because he stopped fulfilling any more purpose, his mother got rid of him.
One day, they went for a carriage ride, and after abandoning him on the street, she drove off, never once looking back. But to the actress regret, her sin came back to haunt her, because Cyril James Beacham, Cyril after her dead brother and James after his father, found her and her latest lover and poisoned them. He was fifteen years old at the time. The authorities never found out who had killed them. They didn’t care about a drunkard and a dead whore. As the years passed, Jimmy grew more ruthless. While growing up in the slums of London, fighting for survival, he had found many ways to exploit people.
As a lad, Jimmy would skulk in the alleyways waiting to rob people. He would run errands for a fee and people would pay to collect any information he would chance overhear. No one pays attention to the dirty urchin in the corner. During the years, he grew adept at how to manipulate any situation to his advantage.
One such situation came to mind. One night, while walking to his rooms above a bar, flush with his own success, he met a man, who was very hungry and who did not care that he might break laws, laws that were there to protect him. Nicholas Radley, member of the British peer, had not started out intending to embrace someone that night. What to him was a vagrant, someone who was disposable was instead a cunning and wily fellow, who then saw an opportunity, to be better physically, stronger and long lived. So that night at his peak of maturity Cyril James Beacham, became a Brujah.
As a human, James was ruthless, but as a Brujah, he was made ten times more so. He was always seeing an angle to any situation. Several months ago, he had heard about the upheaval in San Francisco and he decided it was a perfect time for a new Prince. James then blend in with other Brujah’s, never calling attention to him self. He wanted to make sure he was not noticeable. Just another Brujah.
For years, the Brujah has been acquiring positions as princes all over the U.S. In the East Coast alone, the cities are all Brujah owned. Now they wanted to own the West coast as well. James knew he was the man for the job. Did he not kill his own Primogen? Does he not own several properties here in the United States and Britain? The answer to both questions was yes.
He decided he had seen enough. He didn’t want to turn into a pumpkin by staying late. It was time to leave. He walked quickly to the door, making sure that no one was paying any attention to him.
Outside coming up the steps was Frank Kohanek. He had to move quickly out of the way, before he was knocked down. But he didn’t move quickly enough. The man bounces off him on his way out the door.
Frank turned to watch the man. Something about him was off, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. He strode through the open door, thinking to tell someone about it. But that thought went over quickly, when he went into the house and saw the chaos.
***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***
Across town in a darkened basement of a downtown apartment building, a hulking shadow stirred in a corner. He was grotesque. He had a high forehead, reptilian eyes, long matted hair with a protruding mouth and large canine teeth.
Walking into the basement to do her laundry, a woman turns on the lights. Hearing growling behind her, she slowly turned. She screamed loudly and long, fleeing the room with her basket of clothes scattered on the floor behind her.