Chapter 3: Show Contempt for Danger
The security guard sighed in relief as the clock turned to eight fifty-five, the unofficial end of the business day over at the Spade-Easton building. All the employees and executive had long vacated their offices, and the only people remaining, else than the janitors and the nightshift security, were the building's new owner and his people who occupied the top floors.
He slowly walked around the security desk and then through the large black metal detectors. Inspired by some reason to be touched by beauty, he looked back a moment at the central marble fountain, it's central statue a weird depiction of Apollo, water jetting from all around him to form a strange liquid throne. His gaze then traveled over the large rows of columns supporting the overhead balcony. The new owner had sure fixed the place up over the last few months. Hell, now it even had a vaulted ceiling with a very accurate reproduction of Sistine chapel. It was funny though how quickly one grew so used to the beauty, that one hardly noticed it anymore.
He shook his head, trying to concentrate instead on locking all the doors so as to hasten his departure. He stretched out his arm to open the last one, letting out a few day-shifters who were lucky enough to kick off early.
"Hey Lenny!" yelled out someone from the inside, "Come check this out, Cordelia Chase is on ET."
"I'm coming right over," he responded, staring over his shoulder as he slowly closed the door on the cold air of the night. Suddenly, there was a jolt and he looked back to the hand shaped obstruction. Before he could open it, the stranger had pulled the door back enough for him to slip through. Black gloves, black leather coat, black sunglasses. There was definitively a color theme there. Adding to that the smell of alcohol on the man's breath and his overall attitude, and Lenny had everything he needed to conclude the stranger had bad news written all over him.
"I'm sorry mister, but we're closed…" he tried as the stranger shouldered his way past him. Before Lenny could grab his shoulder, the stranger had casually drawn a silenced pistol with his left, and pumped two rounds into his chest.
Xander never broke stride, never turned, and never even paused from looking straight ahead at the two guards at the desk still oblivious to what had just happened; the silencer had bought him the few seconds he needed. Quickly, he spotted two more to the right by the bathroom and one above to the left of the balcony. Everything was already slowed down, as if Lenny's lifeless body took infinity to surrender to gravity.
The ringing of the metal detector was a high pitch wail, the first beat to a song of metal about to unravel on those about to die. Xander unhooked the large heavy duffel bag that had been slung on his right shoulder. The guards were scrambling for their weapons like snails caught in glue. Thump. Thump. Went Xander's heart, his breathing muffling everything from existence. Finally he stopped in his track, though only for a beat, the duffel bag still hanging midway to the ground, Lenny now on his knees.
Xander took another long breath, his eyes twitching under the shades, and then he reached for his other pistol. Suddenly, it was as if someone had hit the fast forward button on his remote. Xander pounced, fast-drawing the holstered pistol as his body traveled horizontally toward the left side of the desk. He could feel the heat from the bullets flying by his face, as he repeatedly fired both pistols at the two guards by the desk. He caught only a glimpse of the blood blowing back from their multiple wounds before he hit the ground and rolled behind the safety of cover. His enemy kept firing wildly as he put his back firmly against the desk, a proud smile on his lips as he discarded the silencer, which had by now done his job. Surviving this far was something to celebrate; unfortunately he had little time to do so. He waited, using the opportunity to calm down his breathing, until the security guards finally relaxed and started using some fire discipline.
"Guys? Can't we talk about this?" he yelled out, breaking the silence that had settled. He leaned slightly to the right, taking a peak around the corner at the guard on the balcony. The poor green bastard was trembling, shifting his weight around, his arms stiff as boards. He was so shaken he hadn't yet taken cover, leaning over the railing, aiming dutifully at Xander's position. Twenty thirty meters, estimated Xander from the look of things.
"You bastard!" yelled out one of the guards by the bathroom, Xander took another peak over the desk and spotted them both hiding behind one of the columns. "You're the one who started shooting. You killed Lenny!"
"Did I do that?" asked Xander in his most innocent of voices. He quickly leaned around the corner and precisely unloaded a round between the balcony guard's eyes, and then returned to his position before the body flipped over the railing, blood still pouring out of the back of his head.
"You son of a bitch!"
"You know I have to tell you," said Xander, interrupted only by the thud the guard's body made has it finally hit the ground, "you're friend over there really, really--- really doesn't look too well at all."
"I' m gonna kill him!" Xander listened carefully at the guard who seemed to be rushing toward his position, firing rounds as he went. Xander never even flinched as the bullets shook the entire desk; they ricocheted mere inches above his head. He pressed his forehead against the back of both his pistols, listening even more carefully through the mad battle cry of the guard rushing him. He closed his eyes, even as the tension rose through his own body, catching a last glimpse of the rounds punching through the glass wall that had separated this violence from the busy, oblivious streets of Manhattan. Through the vibrations and the thumping, through the chattering television, he heard a second set of footsteps coming up behind him, scrambling to catch up to the first.
"Mike! Mike! Get back here!" Reaching out with his feelings, he could sense their presence less then ten meters behind and to his left.
"I'm gonna kill him! I'm gonna kill him!" yelled back the other hysterically.
"Mike we need to take fucking cover, now!" He could almost see them, standing there, arguing. Mike still pumping rounds like punishing the desk changed anything, his buddy trying to grab onto his arm.
"Let go! Let me go, fuck! I'm gonna—" He could sense their energy, so close now. He could taste their fear as everyone heard the inevitable click, a hollow metal sound like the first nail piercing through the coffin.
When Xander popped up slightly over the counter, Mike was staring with dread at his empty pistol, his buddy still trying to yank him back to the column. That image was barely a snapshot; both of Xander's 9mm sang simultaneously, and the flesh of the men replied. The two rounds had found their respective mark, piercing through between each pair of eyes.
He returned to his cover a moment, listening carefully to make sure he hadn't missed some guard hiding away since the beginning of the firefight.
"Amateurs," he muttered, as he finally got up. His feet crushed pieces of broken glass and stoneware from cups of coffee and other items he didn't care to identify. Abruptly, he pulled back, barely managing to dodge out of the way of the bullet that flew up from behind the desk. One of the two desk guards had seemingly survived his multiple chest and head wounds. He laid on his back, clutching his bleeding throat, his other hand tremblingly pointing the pistol upward where Xander had been before the later pulled back and out of his angle of sight.
"Note to self: cut back on the cockiness," said Xander to himself as he raised his arm high up, bending his wrist to give his weapon the proper angle. He fired a few shots until he heard the thud of the guards own hitting the floor. Still though, he heard groans and moans and he carefully peered over the counter. The dying guard held up an empty hand, trying to shield himself from Xander.
"Please… please don't…" whimpered the guard as Xander took his aim.
"Sorry," he answered simply as he ended the poor man's suffering with a bullet to the head. He paused finally, looking at the dead body with a touch of guilt piercing through the incredible power rush. Xander sighed.
"Like many stars, you've done tremendous work with teens, trying to warn them about the many danger of drugs and violence, and the importance to stay in school, as well as a multitude of other lessons about growing up. However, unlike a lot of other stars, you've done so by exposing a lot of your own personal experience. Why is that?" asked the reporter on the TV. Xander listen vaguely as he fetched his duffel.
"Well Mary," answered Cordelia Chase, "I always felt it was important, not only that, but it's much more easy to make kids understand if they know where you're coming from. I mean, very often I have young teenage girls come up to me and tell me about how me sharing my experiences with one of my first real boyfriend, the one that cheated on me, has help them live through the same experience. Plus I get to say on television just how lame of a looser he really is, and how much I've grown as a mature adult since I dumped his worthless butt. And that's really gratifying."
The blood splattered TV set exploded. Xander smiled silently as he pumped another round into the shotgun he'd taken out of his duffel bag. He dug through the small arsenal that filled the bag that now rested on the desk, and slung an mp5 around his shoulder.
"Alright," he said after checking his ammo and dropping a few smoke canisters all around the room. "Let's get this show on the road." He listened one last moment to the silence, broken only by the sizzle of the smoke escaping the canisters, his eyes fixed on the chrome security door across the room from him. His hand moved down, and without theatrics, he pressed the alarm button, releasing a high pitch siren.
"It would help quite a bit Faith, if you could only provide us with some clues as to what to expect from Mr. Harris," asked Mason, still, as usual, sitting squarely at his desk, "I've already doubled security, but if I'm to take you at your word that hardly seems enough." This second meeting, so far, had proved as productive as the first. Mason had hoped some time would help cool the blood of both his mercenary and his Slayer, but that theory had turned out to be disappointing. Faith paced around looking angry and nervous, while DeMontagne watched with uninvolved contempt from his usual chair.
"That won't do shit! Xander's not stupid enough to pull a Buffy on this one. He's not gonna just storm in here. Xander's a cold methodical killer when it comes to revenge. No, he's gonna go guerilla on us for sure."
"Specify," pressed Mason.
"Knowing him, he's gonna sneak in here in broad day light, when people are least suspicious. He'll probably disguise himself as one of the staff, someone that looks totally not suspect-- he'll get all the badges, keys and clearance cards from some poor sucker he's gonna off-- if he hasn't done that already. If I was you, I'd start tagging all the janitors, all the employees and even the security guards. He's likely to use a polymer knife, or something else your metal detectors downstairs won't pick up, so you can forget about that. You should booby-trap the air ducts and put some heavy patrol on the roof; instruct them to look down along side the building too, in case he goes all Spiderman on us and decides to free climb his way up here. One thing is for sure, he's gonna sneak in, and he's gonna wait, wait until one of us is alone and then bam! Lights out. So, if I was you, I'd be real careful next time I take a whiz; you might look up from your dick to find your throat cut."
"What else? I assume it's safe to say we should all restrict our movement outside this building."
"Or maybe we could set a trap," interjected DeMontagne, "Offer one of us as bait, and jump on him when he takes it."
"I'm all for wild, careless plans, but this one reads out like an epitaph. Xander's too fond of bombs and sniper rifles. The second we step outside this building, the question isn't can he get to me, it's more like did he pick me. No amount of guards gonna help."
"So, I ask again, what do you recommend?"
"I still say the safest course of action is for me to chop off Frenchie's head here and present it as peace offering."
"Fuck you, putain de salope!"
"Fuck you!"
"Enough you two. I say we concent…"
The alarm blazing somewhere in the distance interrupted Mason's reconciliatory speech. He stared with interest as the red blinking of the emergency light on his desk phone, tipping his head to one side as he did. He seized the receiver.
"Yes… huh-huh… thank you." Mason looked rather amused as he pressed a few buttons on his remote; a panel slid, revealing a few security monitors. Mason continued to ignore the questioning stares of his two employees even as he hung up the phone. Instead, he continued typing away on the remote and an image of the lobby was abruptly displayed on the largest of the monitors. Smoke obscured the scene but it was evident a firefight was in progress, Xander ran, slid and rolled, back and forth between the columns as he discharged his shotgun at incoming guards, some humans, some not. Big nasty demons poured out from a security door to the side of the room carrying more arsenal than a small army, yet surprisingly Xander seemed to be fending fantastically well, and that point was further reinforced when one of his grenade took out a few demons huddling together by the door.
"You were saying?" asked DeMontagne with a sly grin. Faith simply glared at him.
A cop car pulled to the curb, it's tire screeching. The two officers jumped out, the metal of their drawn sidearms reflecting the stroboscopic glow of the sirens lights. They stood behind the cover of their vehicle as they stared intensely at the building before them. All they could observe was the muzzle flash piercing through the thick smoke, dozens of weapons being fired at frantic rhythms.
"15-14 responding to… oh shit! Central, there looks like there's somekind of war going down there," spoke one of the officers into his CB. The two looked at each other in fear and disbelief before abruptly ducking as a series of shots, fired from inside, traced lines of holes in the windows, this latest line combined with others to form a dreadful Braille tale of death. The two cops exchanged one more look.
"You want to wait for backup?" The bullet riddled corpse of a large green demon, bursting through one of the glass doors answered the question; his head joining him moment later.
Xander ducked under the claw swipe of the demon and then jumped up to deliver a powerful wheel kick to his purplish-insect-looking adversary. Yet even before it's unconscious body could start to stagger backward, the last demon and the last human alive were on Xander. He slipped, weaved and bobbed, under and aside all the blows coming from both his left and his right. His hands and forearms ached from all the blocking he was doing, always paying special attention to the human who wielded a knife with expert precision. He already had nicked Xander a few times along side the arms.
After constantly backing up before the uncommonly synchronized attack of his two opponents, hardly ever throwing an attack of his own, Xander finally saw an opening and twisted his body out of an incoming knife thrust, using the human unfortunately committed attack to pull him forward, tripping him over a dead body, finally jabbing his knife instead into the last demon's throat.
The horrified look on the human guard's face lasted only a moment though, as Xander continued his spinning motion, landing right behind his opponent. A quick kick to the back of the knee forced the guard to lean backward sufficiently for Xander to rapidly, and with little resistance, snap his neck.
Xander caught his breath, looking on the carnage all around him revealed by the dissipating smoke. He could hardly believe he had lived through this; twenty bodies or so lied all around, most of them armed and most of them demons of a sort or another. He hadn't expected such resistance, and unless luck had smiled on him in the first time in years, he had obviously underestimated himself. He had unfortunately little time to devote to self-praise and introspection, and so he quickly wiped the blood from his face and picked up his previously discarded weapons, before heading for the elevator.
"No way. No way, Mason," said Faith as she stared at the screen in a strange mix of relief and disbelief. "Xander's wicked bad, but he should be pushing daisies by now. Nothing should have lived through that."
"Well shows how much a women knows about combat," quipped DeMontagne, earning himself another glare from Faith.
"Well, don't worry Faith, he won't survive for much longer—unless he surrenders of course. My men will wait for him at the elevator exit on this floor. It was quite stupid of him, I must say, to trap himself so inside that box."
"But that's what's not Kosher, Mason," continued Faith. "This is so not Xander, he knows better; something's up."
"The Elevator… " pointed out DeMontagne his finger waiving at the screen monitoring the movements of the different lifts throughout the building. "It just stopped at the third floor." The number three blinked a moment on the screen before vanishing, the elevator resuming its climb.
"He got off," said Faith as with a push of a button, Mason's displayed the entire third floor surveillance on the various screens. They rapidly spotted Xander running through the empty corridors, digging through his duffel bag as he went. From it, he pulled C-4 explosive packs that he lined against areas likely to contain beams
"Merde!" exclaimed DeMontagne, "he's going to blow the building. You weren't kidding, he is insane."
"This doesn't make sense, Xander wouldn't be that sloppy. Plus where did he get that much plastic, he doesn't have the cash for that. I'm telling you, Mason, something's up!" reiterated Faith, growing increasingly jumpy with every moment. She couldn't believe any of it. Had Xander really become this dangerous over the years? No, it made no sense. No human should have survived the shoot out downstairs, she herself might not have, but yet he had. Something was wrong about Xander and suddenly she recalled other instances in their past, where he pulled off some extraordinary feat, like that time in Cairo he took out a Wan-Hai demon in hand to hand combat after it had knocker her out. They chucked it up to her softening him up, but suddenly it didn't feel so likely. For the first time ever, she felt a little afraid of Xander, something inhuman was up with him, that much she could tell by now, and it scared her ever the more knowing how pissed he was. But the approach, the explosives, it was all wrong. Xander was roping them, she was almost sure of it. She was about to mention it yet again, when the blinking light on the elevator monitor suddenly alarmed her, as it indicated its arrival on this floor.
"Oh shit Mason, your men…" Her sentence was punctuated by the elevator bell coming from down the hall. There was a second of silence during which Faith closed her eyes, just in time in fact for the vibrating explosion that followed, and of course, the proverbial screams. Mason barely looked shocked.
"Oh dear," he sighed, almost uninterested.
Xander concluded his run by sliding on his knees, both his arms outstretched in opposite directions. He fired his two pistols as he slid past the doorway, killing the two demons hiding on either side of the frame. Without time to even catch his breath he rolled out of the way of another fray of bullets coming from behind him.
After sending a few rounds back down the corridor, he discarded his now empty pistols, arming himself instead with the mp5. He frantically continued his aimless run through the building, literally breaking trough a door here and there; his pursuers always hot on his trail. How they'd gotten down so fast, he couldn't phantom; perhaps there was another security detail in the middle of the building. It didn't matter anyways, as it suited him just fine. He dodged a few more bullets, turned a few corners and left plenty more hats on the ground before he took another corner and suddenly came to face Faith, DeMontagne and Mason and half a dozen demons, staring straight at him at the other end of the hallway. He froze a second, as they did, and then the sound of feet coming down the way he had came, snapped him back to reality.
"What are you waiting for? Shoot him!" commanded Mason, "aim for his legs and arms if you can." However, Xander's quick draw was faster than Mason's minions, and Faith's reluctance to participate, forced her group to split for cover instead, as a Mp5 continual burst cut through two of the demons.
The weapon clicked, the bolt visible through the chamber's open door: the clip was empty. Panic set in only for a fraction of a second as Xander glanced at his weapon. A fraction was all he had to spare, and so a makeshift plan of dubious sanity was formed. He bolted toward them at full speed, yelling a battle cry as he went.
"What the---?"
They blinked only for an instant, and that was more than Xander had expected. The sound of bullets dancing alongside his feet came to his ears. It was unbelievable; he watched the occasional muzzle flash of his opponents weapons, and though time felt as if it had split to a matter of milliseconds, the chaos of the situation seemed overwhelming. He was so terrified he could hardly breath. Only a few more steps, just a few more paces and he wouldn't die before exacting his revenge. However, with every millisecond another of Mason's minions woke from their stupor and joined the firing squad.
It quickly occurred to him just how insane and comical this would seem if he could just step outside and watch this scene from the bench; he, miraculously running toward a burgeoning hail of gunfire, yelling like a mad man taking his chances in a minefield. He concentrated on Faith's expression. She too seemed to find this scene rather amusing, or rather she would once the horror wiped itself from her face. Above anything else though, in the little time he had to do anything, he noticed the pistol in her hand, her arm limp by her side.
"Kill him!!!" yelled DeMontagne; time seeming to jolt back into place with his command. He held up his assault rifle and pulled hard on the trigger as most of the demons followed suit. Xander's eyes flashed open and he suddenly shifted his weight pouncing sideway through the door he'd been trying to reach. He rolled off the shattered wood into a long corridor, turning only a second to watch hundreds of bullet holes form themselves on the doorframe.
He dashed as fast as he could, trying to reach the door at the other end; if he didn't succeed before Mason's goons got behind him, the luck he'd just experience would surely run out. He stole another look over his shoulder at the shadows that neared dangerously to the entrance. He turned his head back to a nasty surprise: a great big green forearm surged from a nearby door and was now outstretched before him. Xander instantly dropped and slid, barely avoiding the clothesline. His reflexes, he congratulated himself, were amazingly sharp today. Unfortunately, the roll that followed was abruptly interrupted as his terrifyingly strong adversary yanked him backward by the leg.
Blindly kicking backward proved fruitless, as he was pulled up to his feet and ensnared into a chokehold.
"Ah ah ah!" bellowed his statuesque opponent, "you fight rather well for a puny human. You're slippery like a Strombian Fish Worm."
"Oh no!" grinded Xander through his teeth, his hands gripping hard into the fleshy forearm to attempt to stop the choke. He peaked up at his captor and his fears were confirmed. "A Troll. I hate Trolls."
"Now go to sleep little man, Ugnar will take care off you." Xander spotted the small army taking position at the ruined doorframe, looking very much like they were about to terminate Ugnar's employment among other things. Without any jokes or puns, though a few crossed his mind, he sent his heel into Ugnar's groin, forcing the later to bend his knees just enough for Xander to shatter one of them with yet another kick. The Troll groaned in pain and spun as he fell to his one good knee, exposing his massive back to the fray of incoming rounds. As he vibrated as if a drum of flesh and bones, Xander used the cover the dying Troll provided to plunge and crawl as fast as he could to the safety of the door.
Xander grimaced as Ugnar's corpse finally surrendered to gravity, exposing him a mere second before he reached his objective. A round caught him in the arm, as he pushed the door open and dove for cover.
"Left," he spoke to himself as he gently inserted a new clip into his rifle. "Why do I always have to hurt my left arm?" He leant back around the corner, hanging low, and let out a burst of round, which aptly took care of the three incoming guards.
"Shit! He rearmed! Get cover!" he heard being yelled at the other end of the corridor. His back hit the wall next to the door and he sighed in relief as he slowly sat down. The wound on his arm was surprisingly superficial after inspection. Lady luck was still smiling on the wicked, for now anyways. His eyes went about the room and quickly noticed there were no exit, only the large windows, the kind that didn't open unless you threw a bottle full of marble through them. He was cornered. He lit up a cigarette and tried to relax for a second, knowing at least no one could sneak up on him.
"Magnificient," said Mason with awe as he peaked over the shoulder of one of his guards. The hallway looked more like a war zone with corpses and gore spread all over, as if it had suddenly became a bridge too far. "You were right, Faith. He's incredible."
"Yeah, well it gets better I'm sure," replied Faith, annoyed at her boss's behavior.
"He's cornered," disagreed DeMontagne, "I think this is over."
"Yeah? How do you plan on getting him out of there?" asked Faith defiantly, but Mason waived them to silence as he raised his voice to call on Xander.
"Mr.Harris! Xander! I have to admit, I'm definitively impressed."
"That's all I ever wanted to hear, Mason. How after-school special of you. There goes that sense of acceptance and approval I wanted growing up." Xander's voice echoed carrying fake sadness and a light hint of amusement.
"Listen Xander, why don't you throw down your weapons and come out so we can talk about your future career in this company. How does 250 000 a year sounds, tax free, of course?"
"Sounds great Mason, how about you come down here so we can discuss the dental plan?" replied Xander
"Xander, it's not like you have much choice here. You've lost. You might as well make the best of it. Why die today if you can be rich tomorrow?"
"Whoa that's deep, Mason, but who said I've lost? I can still press the button; kill us all. Now, that wouldn't be very pretty, but sure as hell romantic. What do you think, Faith?"
"C'mon Xander," said Faith defiantly, "I know you got the balls, but you think we don't already have a dozen people disarming all those charges you placed? Please, you press your trigger and all you're gonna hear is a big click. Face it Boytoy, you should have stayed home today."
"I know what this is about Xander," added Mason, "and I have to assure you, we had nothing to do with that unfortunate attempt on your life yesterday. Why would we do that? Think. I want you working for us, Xander, not dead?"
"Well I have to admit that does make sense, but I don't trust you, Mason. Faith on the other hand, whom I still don't trust as far as I can throw her, I'll trust to know better than to lie to me on this one."
All eyes turned to Faith and she instantly lowered her head, making it clear with her expression she'd be keeping a resolved silence. She refused to make that mistake; she refused to get involved on this one. If she had any hope of Xander understanding she wasn't to blame, she had to keep free of any contradictory actions. It wasn't her fault. It wasn't her fault.
"Faith say something…" urged Mason, but she didn't budge. Suddenly, an anxious DeMontagne pushed his way past them.
"L'idiote is not going to say anything, and it doesn't matter anyways, he's just trying to buy time; but I'll give him an answer he'll understand." Without hesitation, the mercenary then pulled the pin from a grenade and effortlessly threw it down the corridor.
"No, you stupid bastard!" yelled Faith as she grabbed Mason and dove for cover. DeMontagne had a weird expression on his face, not understanding why the slayer reacted as if they were the ones he just put into danger.
Xander used the moment of silence to get back on his feet with a grunt. He knew Faith would at the very least take a few seconds to consider her answer, whether or not she had anything to do with this. That was a good thing because he desperately needed the time. He was starting to question the sanity of his plan, but so far, everything seemed to be going relatively well. Of course there was the small matter of being trapped, wounded and facing insurmountable odds. Xander tried to remain optimistic, as he quickly readjusted his strategy.
Unfortunately, his deliberations were halted by Faith's yell, followed by a metal thud in the hallway. A grenade. Instinct kicked in. By the second thud, Xander was already dropping to his side, his right leg shooting out to form a wide arc kick. He caught the grenade with his foot right before it bounced off the floor a third time, just as it was coming out of the hallway.
The metal projectile hurled back down the corridor toward the terrified guards, as Xander finally made up his mind. His point had been made; it was now time to move on to phase two of his plan. In plain English, it was high time to get the hell out of there. He opened fire on the window, using the noise of the blast to cover his escape. A rush of hot wind and debris blew past him right before he crashed through the weakened opening in the window.
The grenade had seemed to freeze in midair as it reached the intersection. It was just sitting there like some wild terrifying beast about to pounce. The color had drained from the guards' faces as they watched the deadly explosive, hanging in the moment, a mere foot away from some of them. There was no time for prayer, no time for cover, nor yelling nor cursing. There was only a second of inner piece, or of terror, and then, nothing.
Faith raised her head from the floor and proceeded to flip off the upper half of a disfigured guard that had been thrown on top of her by the explosion. She looked at the carnage all around while dusting herself off. Some of the walls were on fire and almost all the others were painted black and red, and body parts spread out as long as the hallway ran. Mason soon joined her looking rather distraught for once, but still relatively calm.
"Thank you, Faith, that was rather close I would say."
Then something rummaged under a body a few feet away, on the other side of the hall, and a slightly wounded DeMontagne pulled himself to his feet. Faith's mood suddenly made a U-turn.
"Shit! You survived," she spoke, her words dripping with disgust.
"How the hell did…."
"I've seen him pull off that trick before."
"What is that? It feels like there is a cold breeze coming from down the hall," asked Mason as he stuck a finger into his ear, trying to shake out the ringing. Faith peaked around the corner and lightly gasped, before shifting her jaw around.
"The little bastard escaped through the window."
"Quick you two run down, grab what's left of the men and go after him."
"Mason," protested Faith, "that's not a good idea. There's something going on…"
"There's no time for discussion. Go!"
"You go in!"
"No! You go in!"
"Why do I have to go in?"
"Because I've got a wife and kids and you don't."
The cops' conversation was halted with a bang as a dark clothed man landed with a shower of glass on the hood of their car, forming a large dent into it. Both cops yelped at the same time and then stared ahead, frozen with stupor, as the suspension settled. The man slowly turned to face them, small cuts above his forehead formed long strings of blood running down the length of his features. He smiled at them, discarding his cracked sunglasses.
"Sorry for the car guys. By the way, there's a bunch of bad guys about to come out of that door over there, you might want to arrest them. Not that I'm trying to tell you how to do your job or anything. Anyway, got to run."
Xander dashed away, heading for his motorcycle parked a street away. He heard the cops shouting for him to stop, but he never turned to watch them draw their guns and waive them menacingly at him. They could have shot him if they wanted, but it might have looked bad, even if there was an assault rifle dangling on his back. He jumped on his motorcycle and waited patiently for his cue.
"He just stopped, why did he stop?"
Feet shuffled behind the two cops and the sound of broken glass being trampled and crushed, made them aware of that. Their jaw dropped, and so did their weapons, as they gazed at the small army running out of the building, and thankfully past them. A dark haired beauty led the pack decisively, and she looked as if she had been carved of the same brimstone, from which the monstrosities following her had risen.
"We—We give up…"
"Nobody cares," she yelled back, her eyes flashing open as she spotted Xander down the street, staring back at her from his speeding motorcycle. "Over there! He's got wheels!"
"Yes sir… No sir…. Yes I am sorry, but as you… but it was clearly not my fault…no, no, I will take responsibility for my man's action… but on the other hand it succeeded in bringing certain…"
Mason looked up from his desk at the odd looking demon that had just walked into his office carrying one of Xander's explosive packs. He looked rather embarrassed and at the same time anxious.
"I'm sorry, sir, can you hold just one moment," said Mason before covering the receiver with his hand. "What is it? Didn't my secretary tell you I'm on an important call, that I wasn't to be disturbed?"
"You're secretary's dead, boss."
"Oh, right. What is it then, make it snappy."
"The bombs they're…" answered the demon, looking at a lost for words.
"What is it?" urged Mason.
"They're empty, boss. They're all empty—they're dummies."
"Oh, dear," sighed Mason.
"Are you sure you saw him come in here?" asked DeMontagne as his men dispersed into the large warehouse. Xander had made them chase him for several blocks, Faith the only one close to keeping up with him on her own bike. She finally saw him ditch his Ninja by one of the doors of this gigantic building next to the East river. By the time they all stormed it, he was nowhere to be seen.
"Five by Five. It's a big place, he might be hiding anywhere."
"Ma'am!" called one of the guards. His finger was pointing up at a door high up, leading to the roof. It was ajar, creaking ever so slightly from the wind as moonlight seeped through the opening.
"He's on the roof," concluded DeMontagne. Faith shook her head, her eyes riveted on the door.
"That's too easy."
"Well, you might be afraid, but I'm not. I'll be up there killing him if you're looking for me."
The Slayer rolled her eyes, and cursing the mercenary's name, she followed his lead as he ran up the stairs to the door. When they got up to the last floor, Faith suddenly noticed something hidden behind a crate.
"Wait!" she commanded as she carefully made her way toward the object that had caught her attention. With every silent sneaky step, the object became clearer. A foot was sticking out ever so slightly. A victorious smile formed itself on her lips as she sidestepped to widen the angle. She took careful aim, and then, fired.
The bullet hit it's mark, but there were no reaction or cry of pain, and even worst, there was no blood. She ran to the spot to discover the dead body of a security guard, his throat cut and his uniform unfamiliar. She knelt down to touch the bluish skin of the deceased, and it was ice cold.
"Congratulations," spoke DeMontagne over her shoulder, "you shot a dead man in the foot. It's my turn to be impressed."
"He's been dead for hours. We should get out of here, something…"
"Is not right, yes, you've been saying that since the beginning. Well, let me teach something they might have forgotten to tell you at Dragon-12; things rarely are. You go in there and you do the best you can, and damn the consequences."
Faith scowled him as he resumed his now careful voyage up the stairs. She thought about putting a bullet in the back of his head, she could always tell Mason Xander had done it, but she looked around the room at the fifty or so of their men, and decided against it. Many of the humans were old friends of DeMontagne, and they wouldn't be likely to keep their mouth shut. Instead, she begrudgingly resumed following him.
The roof revealed nothing else from a nice view of the polluted cesspool that was the East river, and of some gloomy warehouses' own roofs. There were no places to hide, and as many time as they turned and whirled around, scanning everywhere, they couldn't find a clue as to Xander's whereabouts.
"Why would he want us up here?" she asked herself aloud.
"You know," said DeMontagne suddenly pausing, as if some revelation was slowly forming, "I think I know this place. I know this warehouse. This place belongs to Mason." Faith's head snapped in the Frenchman's direction, but the ringing of her cell phone interrupted what she was about to say. She nodded her head a few times as Mason informed her of the absence of plastic in the explosives. She dropped the phone, horror forming itself on her features. She spun quickly before the baffled eyes of DeMontagne and the five men that had followed her up here. She scanned the horizon carefully and finally, she spotted him standing on top of a building some hundred meters away.
Xander was smiling and smoking a cigarette. When he saw she had noticed him, he dropped the flask of whisky in his hands and waited a second. He waved at her before raising the other arm theatrically. In it, of course, was a remote detonator. Her eyes flashed open and she instantly darted for the river.
"Jump!" she yelled back, DeMontagne and another of the men already taking her up on her advice. Her foot hit the edge of the building and she plunged, the building almost instantly blowing up behind her. She caught a glimpse of DeMontagne, and the other guard, falling to the safety of the water along with her, and also of a second guard, jumping an instant too late, being caught by the flames. He screamed dreadful wail all the way down until they hit the water.
When her head popped out of the water again, she watched DeMontagne's frustrated expression carefully as he stared at the burning inferno they'd been standing on moments ago.
"Maybe, you were right…"
