That night…

"Yep. Still smells. Guh!" Buffy tried breathing through her mouth instead of her nose, but then stopped after she thought about what kind of fumes and particles she might be allowing into her mouth. Vampires, being respirationally challenged, didn't have to worry about inhaling poop particles when they skulked through the sewers, lucky, undead things that they were.

Buffy had been exploring the sewers that were under the Umbrella facility for about half-an-hour now, but the secret entrance was, so far, a no show. She had one more stretch of sewer to go so, by the process of elimination, it should be the stinky, filth-encrusted winner. She scanned the walls, knowing the entrance had to be here somewhere. There was no other way for people to get into the basement. At work, she had checked every nook and cranny of the first floor, and had seen no way to access the basement.

Out loud, she declared to the sewer, "Never fear! I shall find the entrance for I am Buffy, Mightiest of the Mighty Sewer-Scouring—"

Hey, what's that up there?

Up ahead of her was a black tarp that almost blended into the wall, perfect for concealing – Buffy wrenched it aside –

A door.

A door, which, unfortunately, had an electronic lock with a keypad on it. The Umbrella Corporation sure had a soft spot for these electronic door locks. Buffy doubted her security code would work but just in case, she tapped it in.

Nothing. The light on the lock stayed red. Hopefully, her failed code entry wouldn't trigger some silent alarm somewhere, thereby sending a battalion of armed operatives her way. That would ruin her night. Looking at the door, she didn't think could just kick it in, 'cause if she could kick open a solid steel door, she'd probably have embarked on an illustrious career as a bank robber by now.

So, how do I get in? she wondered. I don't think whoever's in there would buy it if I knocked, and told 'em I was selling Girl Scout cookies. Buffy was stumped. She might just have to wait and confront Deceitful Gary tonight at work and see if he knows—

She heard a click-click noise.

From behind her came a voice. A recognizable voice.

"Turn around, Buffy. Slowly."

Damn. Guess she wouldn't have to wait. Buffy turned to see Gary standing about six feet away from her, complete with big, scary gun. Gary looked much less like the slightly annoying, slightly stupid guy whom she worked with, than he did a seriously pissed-off guy with a gun pointed at her head. She was beginning to think she wasn't going to like any of Gary's incarnations.

Gary smiled his goofy, but now strangely menacing, smile. "Hey, Buff. Nice to see you again so soon. Wish it didn't have to be under these circumstances, you know, when I have to kill you. Before we get to that though, why don't you tell me exactly what you know and what you're doing down here?"

Buffy weighed her options. She could try to pull some nifty Slayer move and get the gun out of his hands, but that alternative carried with it the slight possibility of death by big, honkin' bullet hole. Not ideal. For now, then, she'd stick to her tried-and-true witty banter method, which oddly enough, tended to work to distract the enemy. As she was about to toss off a really great quip, she heard a chick-chuck from behind Gary. Wow, there must've been a whole parade of folks behind her tonight.

A man spoke from some indeterminable distance away. "I really don't think that's how this is going to go down. See, I have a shotgun pointed at you right now, so unless you want your head to explode into a fine, pink mist all over the wall of this sewer, you're going to put your gun down slowly, put your hands behind your back, and get down on the ground."

Gary, eyes wild with disbelief and fear, yelled, "Who the hell are you?"

"I'm here to lodge an official complaint with Umbrella. I hope I've come to the right place. Now get down on the ground!"

Judging from the speed with which Gary complied, it seemed as if Gary would rather his head stay head-shaped. As Gary knelt to the floor and then lowered himself gingerly into the sewer muck, Buffy finally saw who had been standing behind him. Her eyes opened wide.

"You!"

The man took his eyes off of Gary, and squinted to see her in the darkness. As recognition struck, he said, "You!"

It was the cute reporter from the cemetery, looking heaps more commando-ish with his camo wear and shotgun. Buffy thought, What in the world is a reporter doing in a sewer, holding a shotgun and saving my life?

Oooooh….

He probably wasn't really a reporter.