TITLE: Ari Ransom
RATING: PG-13 I think I mite say the f word in here some, but just pretend you didn't see it...oh, and it might not stay this rating forever...
SUMMARY: What if Buffy hadn't been called as the slayer? What if it was this other chick? How would some of the BtVS characters fit in to this new slayer's story? Read and review!
AUTHORS NOTES:
Much thanks to Caffeine Ted, my wonderful censor. Who might be needed, and who might not. We'll see where the story takes itself.
WTF= What the f***. Only abbreviation in this story. Except for the word abbreviation. Ahahaha. No.
This first part is sucky and boring, but bear with me. It gets cool once she starts killing things. *evil smile*
CHAPTER ONE: CALLED
I am the biggest loser I know.
When I say loser, I mean, I consider myself a loser and a social disaster and I am proud. I have literally zero friends, both my parents are dead, I listen to alternative rock, punk and metal, wear combat boots and have been a foster child to almost fifty different families in my fifteen years of living. I go to Leviene High School in New York, or for now at least. It's a public school, and if I successfully make my foster family hate me enough, I will maybe move to another school district where they will shove me in some other school full of preps and jocks and poseurs. As you can tell, I'm not really a social butterfly. I actually didn't mean to insult the jocks, because I kind of am one. Long story. I play soccer. Obviously, not so long.
Anyhow, I'm currently sitting here in the gym of my school, watching all these jock dudes play ultimate frisbee in here because it's rainy as hell outside and we aren't allowed to play in the rain. You might wonder why I'm not playing. Well, ultimate frisbee's my elective right now, and I should be playing now, but I'm not for three reasons:
1) No ankle brace. (I injured myself a while back. Long story that I'll tell later)
2) Combat boots make marks on the gym floor and I therefore am not allowed to run around in here.
3) I don't wanna play.
For these three reasons, I'm sitting around on the ground, leaning against the wall, watching them all play ultimate frisbee. Whoops, correction, not all are playing. Against one of the other walls Brittany, Greg, Mike, and Linda are sitting, not playing. Linda and Brittany because they only joined this elective to be with the guys and also because they can't run in flip-flops, and Mike and Greg because Linda and Brittany are sitting there, so naturally they must sit, too. You see, the social standard at my school is that you gotta have a boyfriend, and ya gotta have one now. Then, you must go everywhere with said boyfriend, and he must go everywhere with you. It's like the freaking fifties, where it's a couples society. It's not Mike and Linda. It's MikeandLinda. It's not Greg and Brittany. It's GregandBrittany. Are you going to invite Mike to the movies with you and your friends? Noo. You're going to invite MikeandLinda to the movies. I think you get the picture. Anyhow, the two couples were being all flirty and touchy-feely, and talking. I couldn't hear their conversation (not that I wanted to) because the screams of "Over here!" and "I'm open!" from the frisbee-ites were too loud. However, I know the type of people they are and I have talked to them a few times, so I can assume pretty accurately that they were discussing something as intelligent as American Idol or as fascinating as who made out with who at who's party last week. Damn. I hate going back to school. September's a bitch.
"HEADS UP!"
Wham.
I looked up, and a bright orange frisbee comes flying at the wall and hits it right above where I'm sitting, drops on the ground next to me, and then a sweaty guy comes running over (I think his name was Jason) picks up the frisbee, and throws it to his friend.
Hi.
Bye.
I grew tired of this, so I stood up, and walked right out the gym door without the teacher noticing. It was almost the end of the day anyway, and I was bored as hell. Actually, I don't think hell would be so boring. Kinda tiring. Annoying. Hard work, I'd expect. Man, do I have ADD or what? I walked down the hallway to the stairwell, up the stairwell to the second floor, the second floor to the hallway, the hallway to my locker, where I packed up my backpack. Why the administration gave a five-foot-eleven girl a bottom locker I have no clue. I shoved my CD player in there, along with my binder, some folders and notebooks, and a textbook. I zipped it up, slung it over my shoulder, and kicked my locker shut. I walked down the hall back to the stairwell, where I went down to the main floor, and straight out the door. I stopped at the steps, put on my headphones and pressed play on my CD player. All of a sudden, loud Shadows Fall was blasting in my ears, and I left the player in my backpack so that the cord was going from inside my backpack to my headphones. I went down the stairs and started walking down the busy Manhattan street.
I love New York City. I'll never move. Not even if they assign me to some shitty foster family that lives somewhere else. Like New Jersey. Or LA. Which would be worse, New Jersey or LA? LA. Much too superficial for my taste. I'd rather die than live there. Or anywhere in California. Except maybe San Francisco.
I had been walking only a little way when someone tapped me on the shoulder. I pulled off my headphones, expecting it to be some lost tourist looking for a landmark or something. I turned and looked. It was some old guy. Gray hair, not too much of it, but what was there was combed neatly. He wore a tweed suit - (tweed? WTF is this, the 19th century?!) And he was kinda pudgy, but in an old grandpa sorta way. He looked kind of... british. Posture straight, and you could tell he read a lotta books and stuff.
"What?" I asked the guy.
"Excuse me," he said with a british accent - I knew it! Next thing he'll be asking me 'where might I find the Empire State Building?' 'It's on the other side of town, dude' I'd reply. He didn't though. It kind of scared me, what happened next.
"Are you Avarielle Ransom?"
I stared at him in shock.
"It's on the other side of- oh, wait, yeah. Yeah, that's me. Wait, why?" Way to go me. Smooth reply.
"My name is Quentin Travers."
"Good for you." That's more like me!
"I need to talk with you."
"What'd I do now? Is it about the wall in the drama room, because, yeah, I kicked the hole in it-"
"No, I am here to inform you of your destiny."
"What's this, you the ghost of Christmas future or something? Because you're kinda late..."
"I'm sorry, Ms. Ransom, but I must inform you that you have been called as the slayer."
"What now?"
"You must come with me immediately. Your destiny awaits."
"Sorry dude, if this is some freaky attempt to kidnap me you can save it, all right? I can hit pretty hard."
"That's not it at all, Ms. Ransom-"
"Quit it with the Ms. Ransom crap, dude."
"All right, Avarielle-"
"Ari."
"Ari, you must come with me. Your sacred duty awaits."
I don't know what made me do what I did next.
I went with the tweed-suit-my-name-is-Quentin-Travers-Brit.
~*~
"Wait, what now?" I asked him.
We were in this boardroom, in some building, and he just told me the strangest thing. There were some other people in there, all Brits, all very prim and proper. I got to sit at the end of the table in this big leather swirly CEO chair. It was cool, because I've never gotten to sit in one of those. They're really comfy. Back to the point.
"I know it must seem hard to believe, Avarielle, but it's all true. Vampires, demons, they're all real. And you are the one girl in all the world who is meant to fight them."
"Wow. What's in it for me?" Leave it to Ari to blurt it all out.
"Well, you gain accelerated healing-"
"You told me about all that crap. Why me?"
"It's your destiny."
"Well, why wasn't I informed of it earlier?"
"A new slayer does not officially get called until the previous slayer dies."
"So I'm gonna die from this and be replaced?"
He looked away then, stood up from his end of the table, and went to the window. He was in sort of a state of shock that I'd asked it, I think.
"Um, it doesn't really bother me, I just wanna get the record straight."
"It is true, you will face battles, life threatening situations, and you will not be able to tell a word of it to anyone you are close to. It can be difficult, it will be difficult, but-"
"That's not a problem either. I'm not close to anyone. I mean, I'm kind of a loner. My parents are dead, and they have been for a long time. So I'm in foster care and junk, and the people at my schools have all despised me beyond belief or just don't know I'm there, so who'm I gonna tell?"
"Well, that takes care of the secret identity, then. You will have a watcher, and he will arrive in good time. We have already told you what you are to do, how to kill demons and vampires, and informed you of your duty, so we are done for now." I stood up.
"Wait, that's it?"
"Yes, for now."
"You haven't told me jack! And you haven't even given me the opportunity to ask a few questions!"
"Please, ask whatever questions you may have."
Then everybody looked at me. I said the first one that came to my mind.
"Is magic real, too?" WTF was I, two?
"Yes, Avarielle, magic is indeed real. Your watcher will on occasion, use some, if it is necessary, but we do not encourage the use of it."
"Will I get to try it?" I was psyched. Screw that two year old crap idea. Magic existed! You could like, levitate and stuff with it. It seemed so awesome, and I really wanted to try it out.
"I do not think so."
"Why not?"
"Magic can be a very addictive, powerful force that you can lose control of easily. It is for your own safety that we discourage the use of magic."
"Oh. Well, who helps me then? If I have anybody, I mean. Or am I all alone?"
"You will have your watcher-"
"I know all that. But am I the only whatchamacallit, slayer?"
"Yes, you are the only one. There are potential slayers all over the world, but it chose you."
"Why?"
"That, I do not know the answer to."
"Hey, what if I move?"
"Pardon me?"
"What if social services moves me to another foster family somewhere else, like, Cleveland or somewhere where they might not have demons?"
"Cleveland is actually on a hellmouth, but, I do not think it will occur, so we will deal with it if it comes the time."
"That it?"
"If you have no more questions..."
"Oh, I do. Um, weapons? What's the deal with those? I mean, do I get them from you, or do I have to make 'em, or buy 'em, or what?"
"Your watcher will supply you with sufficient weapons along with your training."
"Okay. Um, when do I start?"
"After you meet your watcher and commence training, he will send you on assignments, which you will complete. For tonight, go home, get a good rest, and your watcher will find you tomorrow. Best of luck to you, Avarielle."
"You too. Don't die." Don't die? Why'd I say that? Now he's sure to die.
I left the building all pumped up, feeling my super strength radiating through my muscles, and my ankle! My ankle felt perfect and fine and better! I don't need a brace anymore! I was free and I was trapped. Now I had an inescapable destiny that I was sure to get killed from, and all I got out of it is some weapons, strength, and a healed joint. But who cares? Tomorrow I would start my training, meet this watcher dude, and kick some ass. What could possibly go wrong?
RATING: PG-13 I think I mite say the f word in here some, but just pretend you didn't see it...oh, and it might not stay this rating forever...
SUMMARY: What if Buffy hadn't been called as the slayer? What if it was this other chick? How would some of the BtVS characters fit in to this new slayer's story? Read and review!
AUTHORS NOTES:
Much thanks to Caffeine Ted, my wonderful censor. Who might be needed, and who might not. We'll see where the story takes itself.
WTF= What the f***. Only abbreviation in this story. Except for the word abbreviation. Ahahaha. No.
This first part is sucky and boring, but bear with me. It gets cool once she starts killing things. *evil smile*
CHAPTER ONE: CALLED
I am the biggest loser I know.
When I say loser, I mean, I consider myself a loser and a social disaster and I am proud. I have literally zero friends, both my parents are dead, I listen to alternative rock, punk and metal, wear combat boots and have been a foster child to almost fifty different families in my fifteen years of living. I go to Leviene High School in New York, or for now at least. It's a public school, and if I successfully make my foster family hate me enough, I will maybe move to another school district where they will shove me in some other school full of preps and jocks and poseurs. As you can tell, I'm not really a social butterfly. I actually didn't mean to insult the jocks, because I kind of am one. Long story. I play soccer. Obviously, not so long.
Anyhow, I'm currently sitting here in the gym of my school, watching all these jock dudes play ultimate frisbee in here because it's rainy as hell outside and we aren't allowed to play in the rain. You might wonder why I'm not playing. Well, ultimate frisbee's my elective right now, and I should be playing now, but I'm not for three reasons:
1) No ankle brace. (I injured myself a while back. Long story that I'll tell later)
2) Combat boots make marks on the gym floor and I therefore am not allowed to run around in here.
3) I don't wanna play.
For these three reasons, I'm sitting around on the ground, leaning against the wall, watching them all play ultimate frisbee. Whoops, correction, not all are playing. Against one of the other walls Brittany, Greg, Mike, and Linda are sitting, not playing. Linda and Brittany because they only joined this elective to be with the guys and also because they can't run in flip-flops, and Mike and Greg because Linda and Brittany are sitting there, so naturally they must sit, too. You see, the social standard at my school is that you gotta have a boyfriend, and ya gotta have one now. Then, you must go everywhere with said boyfriend, and he must go everywhere with you. It's like the freaking fifties, where it's a couples society. It's not Mike and Linda. It's MikeandLinda. It's not Greg and Brittany. It's GregandBrittany. Are you going to invite Mike to the movies with you and your friends? Noo. You're going to invite MikeandLinda to the movies. I think you get the picture. Anyhow, the two couples were being all flirty and touchy-feely, and talking. I couldn't hear their conversation (not that I wanted to) because the screams of "Over here!" and "I'm open!" from the frisbee-ites were too loud. However, I know the type of people they are and I have talked to them a few times, so I can assume pretty accurately that they were discussing something as intelligent as American Idol or as fascinating as who made out with who at who's party last week. Damn. I hate going back to school. September's a bitch.
"HEADS UP!"
Wham.
I looked up, and a bright orange frisbee comes flying at the wall and hits it right above where I'm sitting, drops on the ground next to me, and then a sweaty guy comes running over (I think his name was Jason) picks up the frisbee, and throws it to his friend.
Hi.
Bye.
I grew tired of this, so I stood up, and walked right out the gym door without the teacher noticing. It was almost the end of the day anyway, and I was bored as hell. Actually, I don't think hell would be so boring. Kinda tiring. Annoying. Hard work, I'd expect. Man, do I have ADD or what? I walked down the hallway to the stairwell, up the stairwell to the second floor, the second floor to the hallway, the hallway to my locker, where I packed up my backpack. Why the administration gave a five-foot-eleven girl a bottom locker I have no clue. I shoved my CD player in there, along with my binder, some folders and notebooks, and a textbook. I zipped it up, slung it over my shoulder, and kicked my locker shut. I walked down the hall back to the stairwell, where I went down to the main floor, and straight out the door. I stopped at the steps, put on my headphones and pressed play on my CD player. All of a sudden, loud Shadows Fall was blasting in my ears, and I left the player in my backpack so that the cord was going from inside my backpack to my headphones. I went down the stairs and started walking down the busy Manhattan street.
I love New York City. I'll never move. Not even if they assign me to some shitty foster family that lives somewhere else. Like New Jersey. Or LA. Which would be worse, New Jersey or LA? LA. Much too superficial for my taste. I'd rather die than live there. Or anywhere in California. Except maybe San Francisco.
I had been walking only a little way when someone tapped me on the shoulder. I pulled off my headphones, expecting it to be some lost tourist looking for a landmark or something. I turned and looked. It was some old guy. Gray hair, not too much of it, but what was there was combed neatly. He wore a tweed suit - (tweed? WTF is this, the 19th century?!) And he was kinda pudgy, but in an old grandpa sorta way. He looked kind of... british. Posture straight, and you could tell he read a lotta books and stuff.
"What?" I asked the guy.
"Excuse me," he said with a british accent - I knew it! Next thing he'll be asking me 'where might I find the Empire State Building?' 'It's on the other side of town, dude' I'd reply. He didn't though. It kind of scared me, what happened next.
"Are you Avarielle Ransom?"
I stared at him in shock.
"It's on the other side of- oh, wait, yeah. Yeah, that's me. Wait, why?" Way to go me. Smooth reply.
"My name is Quentin Travers."
"Good for you." That's more like me!
"I need to talk with you."
"What'd I do now? Is it about the wall in the drama room, because, yeah, I kicked the hole in it-"
"No, I am here to inform you of your destiny."
"What's this, you the ghost of Christmas future or something? Because you're kinda late..."
"I'm sorry, Ms. Ransom, but I must inform you that you have been called as the slayer."
"What now?"
"You must come with me immediately. Your destiny awaits."
"Sorry dude, if this is some freaky attempt to kidnap me you can save it, all right? I can hit pretty hard."
"That's not it at all, Ms. Ransom-"
"Quit it with the Ms. Ransom crap, dude."
"All right, Avarielle-"
"Ari."
"Ari, you must come with me. Your sacred duty awaits."
I don't know what made me do what I did next.
I went with the tweed-suit-my-name-is-Quentin-Travers-Brit.
~*~
"Wait, what now?" I asked him.
We were in this boardroom, in some building, and he just told me the strangest thing. There were some other people in there, all Brits, all very prim and proper. I got to sit at the end of the table in this big leather swirly CEO chair. It was cool, because I've never gotten to sit in one of those. They're really comfy. Back to the point.
"I know it must seem hard to believe, Avarielle, but it's all true. Vampires, demons, they're all real. And you are the one girl in all the world who is meant to fight them."
"Wow. What's in it for me?" Leave it to Ari to blurt it all out.
"Well, you gain accelerated healing-"
"You told me about all that crap. Why me?"
"It's your destiny."
"Well, why wasn't I informed of it earlier?"
"A new slayer does not officially get called until the previous slayer dies."
"So I'm gonna die from this and be replaced?"
He looked away then, stood up from his end of the table, and went to the window. He was in sort of a state of shock that I'd asked it, I think.
"Um, it doesn't really bother me, I just wanna get the record straight."
"It is true, you will face battles, life threatening situations, and you will not be able to tell a word of it to anyone you are close to. It can be difficult, it will be difficult, but-"
"That's not a problem either. I'm not close to anyone. I mean, I'm kind of a loner. My parents are dead, and they have been for a long time. So I'm in foster care and junk, and the people at my schools have all despised me beyond belief or just don't know I'm there, so who'm I gonna tell?"
"Well, that takes care of the secret identity, then. You will have a watcher, and he will arrive in good time. We have already told you what you are to do, how to kill demons and vampires, and informed you of your duty, so we are done for now." I stood up.
"Wait, that's it?"
"Yes, for now."
"You haven't told me jack! And you haven't even given me the opportunity to ask a few questions!"
"Please, ask whatever questions you may have."
Then everybody looked at me. I said the first one that came to my mind.
"Is magic real, too?" WTF was I, two?
"Yes, Avarielle, magic is indeed real. Your watcher will on occasion, use some, if it is necessary, but we do not encourage the use of it."
"Will I get to try it?" I was psyched. Screw that two year old crap idea. Magic existed! You could like, levitate and stuff with it. It seemed so awesome, and I really wanted to try it out.
"I do not think so."
"Why not?"
"Magic can be a very addictive, powerful force that you can lose control of easily. It is for your own safety that we discourage the use of magic."
"Oh. Well, who helps me then? If I have anybody, I mean. Or am I all alone?"
"You will have your watcher-"
"I know all that. But am I the only whatchamacallit, slayer?"
"Yes, you are the only one. There are potential slayers all over the world, but it chose you."
"Why?"
"That, I do not know the answer to."
"Hey, what if I move?"
"Pardon me?"
"What if social services moves me to another foster family somewhere else, like, Cleveland or somewhere where they might not have demons?"
"Cleveland is actually on a hellmouth, but, I do not think it will occur, so we will deal with it if it comes the time."
"That it?"
"If you have no more questions..."
"Oh, I do. Um, weapons? What's the deal with those? I mean, do I get them from you, or do I have to make 'em, or buy 'em, or what?"
"Your watcher will supply you with sufficient weapons along with your training."
"Okay. Um, when do I start?"
"After you meet your watcher and commence training, he will send you on assignments, which you will complete. For tonight, go home, get a good rest, and your watcher will find you tomorrow. Best of luck to you, Avarielle."
"You too. Don't die." Don't die? Why'd I say that? Now he's sure to die.
I left the building all pumped up, feeling my super strength radiating through my muscles, and my ankle! My ankle felt perfect and fine and better! I don't need a brace anymore! I was free and I was trapped. Now I had an inescapable destiny that I was sure to get killed from, and all I got out of it is some weapons, strength, and a healed joint. But who cares? Tomorrow I would start my training, meet this watcher dude, and kick some ass. What could possibly go wrong?