Coming Soon from Disreputable Press!

A bonus excerpt from the upcoming "And One More Thing I Hate About You!":

"It was then that elgeneralisimo understood that peace of mind and the imposition of one's will can be achieved through superior firepower... and you ruin less meat if you shoot 'em in the head."

― El Generalissimo

He woke up muzzy headed and with a headache like a tequila hangover, to find slinky coral snake lady standing there looking down at him with a whole shitpot full of goons about.

'Shit. Hungover and with a mouth like an ashtray again,' Still Small remarked. 'Cordy is gonna kill us if we got married again.'

Heh. I don't think we got laid last night, bud. Just fucked.

Two of the goons hauled him up, groaning, and stood him up with his back to a roof support post, facing Ms. Coral Snake. And a tall, grey eyed, scar-faced goon who gave him the cold shivers, and a strange looking goon who gave him worse ones.

"Well, now," Lilah Morgan said, breaking off her conversation with scarry guy. She looked at him like a cat with a crippled mouse. "I see you're awake finally. And I do hope you're feeling cooperative."

'Sure hope like hell Cordy's tuned to the vision channel,' Still Small said. 'And that she brings the cavalry running.'

You and me both.

"Going to be awfully difficult, seeing as I don't know what you want," Xander managed to get out past his dry throat. "And I really hate it when people throw me surprise parties."

'Hey. Smart-assing psychotics isn't your best move there, dumb ass.'

When you have a better one, feel free to trot it out. Still Small didn't answer. Probably sulking.

"Well, this is difficult for me, too, you know," Lilah was saying, when Xander tuned back in, "I happen to like you. Matter of fact, I find you fascinating." She smirked at him, "But since when does 'like' have anything to do with anything?"

Yup. Rolling around naked and playing with coral snakes. Bad Guys one-hundred, Butt-monkey of the Universe, zero. And Oz was dead. He wasn't gonna think about that... Xander shivered slightly as the Wolfram and Hart operative yanked his hands around behind him and handcuffed him to the roof support. Scarred W&H guy stepped back and away.

This bitch was more than just scary...

"Never ever," Xander said, nodding. "Look – whatever you want. I'm no hero. But you're not giving me a whole lot of incentive to work with here. Or any, yet."

He surreptitiously, at least as surreptitious as he could, flexed his arms and wrists, testing the restraints. Hmm. These wouldn't hold a Slayer. Or Hyena-Boy.

But he wasn't a Slayer. Not even close. And Hyena was integrated into his psyche and buried somewhere down deep where he was never getting to the surface again...

'Always knew there was a drawback to that whole re-integration thing,' Still Small remarked.

Gee. You shoulda said something.

'Sorry, Boss. I'll do better next time.'

Ms. Coral Snake was still talking, "Oh, I think you have plenty of incentive. Talk to me, and we become fast friends." She licked her lips, suggestively. "Don't... " Lilah smirked again. "And I'm sure you can fill in the blanks."

The other W&H guy, short and stocky, stepped beside her, holding his SIG, with Xander's .45 in his belt. The third, the tall scarred one, her obvious second fiddle, stood off a ways, still playing with deceptive casualness with Xander's big, ivory handled bowie. He smirked too, his pale grey eyes locked on Xander's.

Eyes holding a depressing promise and a rather disturbing anticipation.

But it was the guy standing to coral snake bitch's left that really worried Xander. That one just had something about him and his sardonic smirk that said 'wizard', even to Xander's untrained eye. That and the rings on each finger, similar to Dresden's or Wizard Him's, and the rune covered slave-bracelet glove thingy on his left hand and wrist, attached to the ring finger ring with a short chain...

The clinical detachment in his eyes bothered Xander even more than the anticipation in scarred and grey's.

"Sure. Me genre savvy," Xander said. He carefully kept his eyes locked on hers. "But me – I'm also thinking you're not from around here, huh?"

"Stalling for time for your friends to arrive?" Lilah Morgan laughed. "Me genre savvy too. But I'll bite – why is that important?"

"You just never know what you're gonna find in an abandoned warehouse in Sunnydale... "

It had come in through the unlocked and open upstairs window, leaping easily to land on the mesh catwalk below. And from there to the next lower one, where it drifted down the stairs at a deceptively slow looking speed.

A golden mass hit the guy at the back, the one with the shotgun, between the shoulders like a floating missile.

Huge, leopard killing teeth closed on the back of his neck, between shoulders and base of skull.

There was a snap and a jerk and a rather horrid moist sounding crack!

Thug-at-back number two, the one with the little pistol sized MP5-k, had quick reflexes. He managed to turn partially in time for the ivory teeth to close and meet in the wrist of his right hand. His gun hand.

There was a snap and a jerk. Sub-machine gun went flying, or began to. His eyes widened horrifically, and his left hand began to reach toward his wounded wrist...

Thug-near-back, the one with the other 12ga, was also quick.

It didn't help.

A drifting cloud of golden fur came off of the floor in a floating leap. Those leopard killing teeth closed and met, and sixty-five pounds of Afghan Hound put its entire body into a snap and shake that took out throat, windpipe and all, down to the vertebrae in the back.

He began to fall as the venous and arterial blood spray jetted out. The shotgun went off, past the hound's body, and a load of double-ought caught another thug in the midsection and folded him like a hinge.

Two dead, possibly three. One disabled. Less than six seconds.

That drifty, floaty looking run surrounded by that cloud of long silky hair is deceptively slow looking. Afghan Hounds are fast.

One of the oldest pure dog breeds in existence. Those huge ivory fangs were designed by generations and centuries of selective breeding for the purpose of killing gazelles on the run and for pairs in taking down leopards in the Afghanistan and Pakistan wilds. And the muscles in those long, slender jaws in that narrow head have the machinery to do it.

As many Copper Units of Pressure per square centimeter as a German Shepherd, or more. Maybe as many CUP as a Blue Heeler's, even.

Number one was on the ground and number two was dropping to his knees, holding his wrist and screaming, while number three was still going over backwards, spraying blood.

Number four had time to turn fully, bringing her weapon up as she died. A snap slash jerk crack! disabled the weapon wrist and a snap slash yank ripped out the throat as she went over backward with Ghani on her chest.

Two more seconds. She'd had time to get off two shots as she came around, both of which went spang! off of the concrete floor and buried themselves in something off to the back.

Grey eyes was stepping back. Guy-in-front of Xander was turning away toward the commotion. Pity that.

For him.

Too damn bad the bitch took my balls, Xander thought.

'And she looked like she enjoyed it far too much, too,' Still Small said, smirking.

Bet she did. Xander concentrated and put his shoulders, his arms, and his entire self into bringing his hands apart. He had no idea that his eyes went hazel and then flashed green, briefly.

To his never ending amazement, the chain between the cuffs parted like heavy twine.

Guy-in-front of him heard the snap!ching! apparently, for he began to turn back as Xander came forward off of the support.

A pity. Idiot. Should have shot me when you first heard the ruckus in back. Only thing you can do with a handgun when you draw it is pull the trigger, or you might as well stick it under your chin and squeeze. It sounded like Soldier-boy's voice. But Soldier-boy was dead and integrated, wasn't he?

Xander did just that. He got his right hand on the gun in the guy's right hand as it came around, pushed it up as he yanked, twisted, and squeezed.

It went off with a flat, muffled crack under the guy's chin and he jerked it from the guy's dying grasp as blood, gray matter, and bone chips sprayed from the top of his skull. He spun it around in his grip, taking it into a firing stance as he flashed a fast look around.

Lilah was nowhere to be seen. No, wait – a flash of dark blue skirt and nylons as she threw herself back and away behind a stack of something.

Wizard guy was backpedaling rapidly, throwing his left hand out before him, finger's crooked in some sort of arcane gesture. Or maybe a fraternity sign...

Xander's second shot hit something in front of the guy that coruscated with ripples of red light –

– He ignored him after that, as the shot spanged! away, for the Afghan was drifting up on number six and Wizzy was focused on Xander.

The scarred guy with his knife was doing the same as Lilah, to the other side. Xander's first three shots went over or under or behind him as he hit the floor rolling, the bullets thudding into pallets or spanging off of concrete. He felt, more than saw or sensed, Wizzy shouting something in a gargling language that sounded like Klingon, and threw himself rolling to the side as a bolt of reddish-green energy went through the space he'd just occupied. He came up to one knee, the .357 SIG hunting for the scarred guy...

No target. Damn.

He took the next best thing, bringing the SIG around to center on a still standing guy who was in the process of bringing his Hk MP-5 down to bear on Ghani as she took out the throat and vertebrae of victim number six.

No one shoots my dog, asshole.

He centered the front sight as he came up in a Weaver stance, and the guy must've caught the motion, for he arrested his swing, a three round burst blatting out as he tried to switch directions and targets. Xander never knew that his eyes had turned a brilliant and icy blue somewhere along the way...

Caught leaning. Idiot. Always take out the target under your sights first, that voice that sounded like Soldier-boy said in the back of Xander's mind.

The first shot went high, right, and slightly wide as Xander lined up on him. Then idiot caught two .357 SIG hollow points in the center mass and one in the face – just in case he had body armor on. Damn. Pistol actually shot where the sights looked. Whoda thunk it.

A bag of bone chips, bloodshot meat, and an exit hole the size of a fastball. He stood there swaying as the back of his head sprayed out all over everything behind him, and there was a ripping flatulent sound.

Xander brought the handgun around and shot the idiot way at the back through the head also, the screaming one holding his damaged blood spraying wrist.

Just to shut off the fucking noise.

And the SIG stove-piped on that last round, an empty case not quite clearing the ejection port.

Idiot. Can't shoot when he should, and probably can't clean and maintain a fucking firearm, a mental voice that still sounded like Soldier-boy snarled.

And everything went deathly silent.

'Apt choice of words, that, Boss,' Still Small said, sounding impressed.

Thank yew, thank yew, thank you verra verra much. I do try.

Lilah stood from behind her stack of cover. She apparently had no weapon, for her hands were empty and held out to the side, palms out and forward facing him. She had a look of pale, wide eyed shock on her face, and her jaw was hanging open.

Ghani left behind the twitching, spraying, shitting corpse of unlucky number sleven, Wizzy, and drifted over to Lilah Morgan, bloody lips rippling back from blood stained choppers. A low rumble came from deep in her chest. Lilah backed away, her eyes widening still more.

Ten dead. Probably less than fifteen seconds, total, not counting the time it had taken Ghani to drift down the stairs...

"Just amazing how fast it all goes to shit, isn't it?" Xander said, quietly, his ears ringing in the sudden silence. "Ghani."

The tall, lean dog stopped, her eyes still fixed on Lilah, and low snarls still rippling out.

"Watch her." Xander knelt to pull his Para-Ordnance .45 from the belt of Idiot-in-Front number one, he of the blown out skull...

"It purely is, isn't it," The scarred guy said as he stood up from behind a stack of barrels. He had another SIG in his left hand, and Xander's knife still in his right. Must of pulled the pistol while he was down and away... "Just goes all to crap in a heartbeat and a hand-basket."

Xander froze, smiling lopsidedly and feeling sick inside. He stood slowly and tossed the jammed and useless SIG onto a stack of boxes and trash, and held his empty hands out to the sides.

"Shoot him, you idiot," Lilah snarled. "And then shoot this fucking dog."

'Love you too, honey,' Still Small said.

"Oh, shut up, you moronic cunt," Scarred Guy said, rolling his eyes. Lilah jerked back as if she'd been slapped, her face going pale. Pale-er.

"I told you we should have put one in the back of his head as soon as we yanked his unconscious ass into the SUV," Scarred Guy added, his tone conversational. "Just as soon as you took his balls away."

"Probably the thing she's really best at," Xander said, still smiling. His tone was equally conversational.

"Hah! Good one, mate," Scarred Guy nodded, his eyes never having left Xander's. "Good dog, that. Yours?"

Xander nodded.

Scarred guy nodded back. "Think I'll leave and let him or her have the bitch, after I kill you. I don't much hold with killing animals."

Lilah let out an outraged sound, and they both ignored her.

'Snerk. I think I like him," Still Small said, 'All except for the killing us thing, anyway... '

"Just people, huh?" Xander's voice was quiet.

Shrug. "No offense, but most people deserve it more than most dogs, mate," Scarred Guy remarked. He shook his head. "And, gotta say – never saw you coming, either. Three dead bang in five seconds. Not bad."

"Hey," Xander shrugged, easily, not moving his hands. "Thirty-six years of non-stop combat experience from Kasserine Pass to here in Sunnydale will do that for you."

"Hah! Good one, and you can't even be more than twenty, twenty-two at the max." Scarred Guy gave a genuine laugh. "Gonna be a shame to kill you," he said, de-cocking the SIG and taking a careful step to one side to lay it down atop a nearby barrel.

"You don't have to, you know. Just walk away," Xander said.

Scarred and Grey shrugged. "You killed three of my men. Dog got three," he said. "When a man's partners are killed, he's supposed to do something about it, right?"

"What are you doing, you idiot? Kill him!" Lilah's voice snarled out.

"Ghani. She talks again, kill her," Xander said, his voice casual. There was a rippling snarl in response, and a shocked gasp and a click of teeth as Lilah's mouth snapped shut.

Grey eyes smiled in sardonic appreciation, and nodded.

He switched Xander's big, twelve inch bladed Moeller fighting bowie to his left hand in place of the handgun, and crab stepped over to Xander, dropping into a crouch. Knife up and before him, right hand held up to block.

"Nothing in your file said you had any of this in you," he remarked. "Let's see what else you got."

There was a soft metallic thump from up on the catwalk near the window Ghani had entered by, and Faith's awed sounding voice came drifting down to them.

"Holy shivering fuck, Xan."

Both of them ignored her.

"Files aren't everything," Xander Harris said, sliding into a hand to hand vs knife stance that his mind provided him, unbidden. A peculiar, gentle, half smile slid onto his face, and an eerie calm came to those brown eyes.

Brown eyes that suddenly went hazel green, and warm, and crinkled slightly at the corners in a smile that didn't quite reach past the eyelids.

"Yer feeling froggy there, go ahead and jump," Xander said. "Mate."

.

"And One More Thing I Hate About You!"

Book II of "Love and Loathing in Las Vegas": A Crazy Little Thing Called Love.

Coming soon to a website near you.