Counts of Blood

Author: Lucinda

Rated T for teen due to insanity, violence and possible swearing.

Main characters: the Count, the Master. Presence of assorted minions and mention of other muppets.

Disclaimer: the Count and any other muppets mentioned belong to Henson Puppetry. The Master belongs to Joss Whedon & his writers. The minions are mine.

Distribution – if you want it, let me know.

Notes: Post Muppet Show, pre BtVS s1.

As it turned out, the sorcerer stopped screaming as the Count removed the fifteenth piece of bone, which was the bottom most fragment of the left fibula. He continued to make raspy noises and protesting whimpers through the removal of another eleven pieces of bone from the lower right leg. The sorcerer lost consciousness as the Count removed the right patella, more commonly known as the kneecap. Death came as the Count removed the fourth piece of the left femur, which proved to have shattered into a total of six pieces, one of them being the actual acetabulum, a very common break for aged humans. Thoroughness demanded that the Count inspect the right femur as well, which had broken in three places, resulting in three separate fragments, one of which had a large crack that had almost but not quite split the leg again. It certainly would not have held if the man had remained standing.

“Vell, the final total is forty pieces of bone in your legs, ah-ah-ah-ah!” The Count could hear thunder roll across the sky as he finished the tally. “Considering that you started vith eight, that is a rather impressiff increase.”

Despite the fact that the sorcerer’s heart had stopped beating, the Count was not content to simply walk away. The man – despite his folly in attacking Kermit – had been clever. He slashed the skin beneath the ribcage and reached inside, locating and removing the heart by touch. It had tiny paler marks all over the little blood vessels of the surface, suggesting that the man had been old, and that his heart had faltered on many occasions. He took the time to count the little scars, eventually determining that there were thirty two. “Had it not been for your magic, you vould haff perished many years ago, vhen your heart failed you.”

He burned the heart separately from the man’s body, concentrating on the magic to conjure and hold the fire. Best not to take unnecessary chances, after all. Some practitioners of magic had ways to return life to their bodies. Slipping his hand back into the hole beneath the ribcage, he towed the body behind him. It would be much easier to find an incinerator to handle the body, or at least some wood to help it burn. Then again, it was possible that the rituals that prevented metal blades from breaking the sorcerer’s skin would no longer be effective now that eh was dead.

Only one of the Muppet vans waited for him, though the eastern sky had started to take on the paler blue and lavender shades of imminent sunrise. As his friend’s minions had rather drastic problems with sunlight, it was only reasonable that they had fled the area. “I presume that they haff been taken to a place vhere they can return to the underground tunnels?”

“Yeah,” Sweetums called. “Kermit’s asleep in the back, he said he wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“How thoughtful of him to vorry about me,” the Count murmured, an unfamiliar warmth forming in his middle. Perhaps near his own spleen? No, it was a bit deeper and more centrally located. “Though I haff told him that I am a wery capable magician.”

“He worries. It’s what he does,” Sweetums shrugged. “You didn’t have to bring a snack.”

“Actually, I…” the Count paused, considering the ogre. “This is the sorcerer who had Kermit kidnapped. He put up a good fight, but as you can see, he lost. It is alvays a good idea to make certain that a sorcerer can not come back.”

“They can do that?” Sweetums glared at the body.

“Some haff learned such tricks,” the Count admitted. “I do not know if this one had such skills or not. Best to destroy the body as a precaution.”

“I can do that,” Sweetums rumbled.

“Good, good, you do that and then perhaps you can take us back into town,” the Count agreed. If the ogre wanted to dispose of the body, that would be quite sufficient.

The next four minutes and twenty three seconds were a strong reminder to the Count that ogres should be handled with great care, and that he was very, very pleased that this one was loyal to Kermit.

He did not speak of the sorcerer again. He felt no need to discuss the matter with Sweetums, and while Kermit deserved to be informed that the man who had ordered him kidnapped and had planned to sacrifice him in a ritual was firmly dead, there was no need to wake him up just yet. The trip back into town was quiet, and slower than the trip out to the old factory, no doubt due to the lack of any particular need for speed. Kermit had been rescued, and the Count had no need to fear the sunlight.

“Tell him we’ll stay in the area for a bit,” Sweetums said, gesturing towards Kermit. “Me an’ some of the boys wanted to check out a few things while we’re here.”

“Of course,” the Count promised the ogre. Kermit would want to know that his loyal minions were lurking in the area, though he did not try to control their activities as much as some would. While he did wonder what sort of things the ogre intended to investigate, he suspected that it would be easier to simply ask Kermit later, have Kermit talk to Sweetums and the others, and then find out from Kermit what they would be doing next.

“The veather here hass been qvite enjoyable. Perhaps I might vant to set up a vinter house near this area, vhere the snow vill not bury my front door and keep avay the mailman,” he mused.

“Might want somewhere other than here. I can feel the Hellmouth, and rumor is that those stuffy Brits are trying to arrange a Slayer to show up here soon,’ Sweetums rumbled.

“I haff no need to fear a Slayer,” the Count scoffed.

“But if you aren’t bothered by her, you have more time for your projects,” Sweetums countered. “And maybe not in your pal’s back yard would be polite.”

“Both good points,” the Count admitted. Drifting into thought, he murmured, “Maybe a bit further south…”

“Your manhole,” Sweetums pulled the van to a stop near a shoe store. At the end of the street they could see the shape of a large school, with an athletic stadium behind it.

“Thank you, Sveetums. I shall be certain to tell Kermit that you vill be in the area,” the Count gave a third-bow towards the ogre as he slipped out of the van. He gently put kermit over his shoulder and walked towards the manhole cover. “I do belief that my friend vanted to discuss magical theory vith Kermit some more before he leafs.”

It was good that Kermit had such loyal minions. Perhaps now he could get on with his peaceful vacation.


End part 23.