Twist of Fate: Chapter 22
by Lisette
Legalese: See Chapter 1 for disclaimers and ratings.
As a brisk wind tore at the ends of her long coat, Miss Parker stalked across the moonlit grounds, alternately cursing the soft ground as her three-inch heels sunk into the grass while angrily asking herself over and over again what in the hell she was doing in a cemetery at this time of night. It wasn't as though she was really confused as to how she ended up there. That trail of logic, if you could call it that, was simple enough. Instead, it was this newfound desire to make right what her family had made wrong in the first place that was really throwing her for a spin. With a past job history that included quite a long and successful stint as a cleaner, she was accustomed to cleaning up other people's messes - just not usually messes that included her own family's mistakes... and mistakes that could easily land her a nice, grassy plot in aforementioned graveyard.
Sighing, Miss Parker came to a stop, errantly brushing a silky strand of dark hair from where it came loose from her sleek do. Who was she kidding? She stopped looking sleek and elegant on the day that she left Delaware. Since then, there just wasn't time to do more than brush her hair out of her face as she made her way across the country, and then the state, until she reached the small hell-hole known as Sunnydale, California - could it only have been a few hours ago?
Oddly enough, it was the sight of the welcome sign, covered in graffiti and bearing a chilling message to run while you still had the chance (among a smattering of obscenities), that finally brought home the realization that she didn't know where to go next. From the second she had made that phone call booking her flight here, she hadn't thought past the intense need to get to the town, as quickly as she could. But upon her actual arrival, she was clueless as to where to turn next. And it certainly didn't help matters that the town was barely recognizable from the place that she had visited last summer. While before it had looked quaint and almost cute, now it had the street war-torn look of the inner cities of Los Angeles and New York City. Many store fronts were boarded up, houses empty and abandoned, and it unnerved her the way the eyes of the citizens of Sunnydale watched her passage, eyes carrying a wariness that bordered on full-out paranoia.
A quick drive in her rented sedan to the address listed in the newspaper article revealed a bull-dozed plot where the Summers' residence used to stand. And even with the bright winter sun shining down on the small neighborhood, there wasn't a soul to be seen anywhere on the quiet street. No, not quiet - abandoned. The houses immediately surrounding the small plot were utterly trashed while the lot itself was littered with broken bottles and fire pits - obviously the site of what looked to be a continuous and extremely rough party for quite a while now - although as to where the partiers were currently hiding.. well, Miss Parker had to admit that she didn't care to stick around to find out. Especially once she noticed the posted warnings from the local law enforcement that warned the stray citizen to avoid the area - especially after nightfall. As a result, Miss Parker barely even slowed her car on the street, feeling as though eyes were watching her every movement from the ruinous homes that lined her way.
After that, Miss Parker had crossed the small town, finally pulling to a stop at the address that the records listed as the high school that Buffy Summers had attended - only to find a burned out shell instead of a place of learning. Dismayed, she had sat in stunned silence for a few moments, eyes locked on the sight, until she finally took note of the neighborhood that surrounded the school - a neighborhood that mirrored the one on Revello Drive. More concerned now than anything else, she had quickly put the car in gear and pulled away, not slowing down until she finally entered a part of town that.. well, resembled more of a town. Whatever had happened to Sunnydale since she had visited last, it was apparent that both the area surrounding Buffy's house and the old high school had become focal points of activity - and not of the good and wholesome variety.
Feeling defeated before she had even had a chance to begin, Miss Parker was about to head to the hospital where she had first met Buffy, playing on her last angle, when a conversation from nearly six months ago played again for her:
"Where is Jarod?"
"Well, you see... he was kind of attacked-"
"Attacked? By whom?"
"... Uh, mosquitoes? Anyway, he's lost a lot of blood. We're getting an ambulance now."
"Where are you?"
"In the graveyard-"
With nothing else to go on, she had then spent the rest of the afternoon into the winter's early evening taking a tour of the town's ridiculous amount of graveyards and cemeteries - which led her to her present location and unequivocal strike number eight million on her hunt... no, her journey to undo the wrongs of her-
"Good God, what's wrong with me?" she muttered, ending that train of thought before it led her any further along a route that was sure to cause plenty of nausea and embarrassment. But even that question had no definable answer - at least not one that she was yet willing to admit to. All she knew was that as long as she could remember, or at least since her mother died, she had always had clearly defined goals to accomplish - procedures to follow. At first it had been to do whatever it would take to make her father proud of her - to make him happy. Later, that goal was broadened to include amassing as much power as she could while she climbed the corporate ranks of the Centre. And four years ago, all of that changed once more when Jarod was thrust back into her life. At that point, her goals narrowed until it became a fine point of light at the end of a long tunnel: find Jarod, bring him back, make Daddy proud. And then... somewhere along the way her nicely defined lines and rules slowly became smudged with gray. And Miss Parker hated gray.
She wasn't sure when it had all started, but a large part of the change came with Tommy. For the first time in her life, she was in a relationship with a man who loved her for who she was, never expecting anything more or less than what she was capable of giving. And for the first time, she began to imagine a life outside of the Centre's confining walls. All of her other goals slowly began to fade away. Pleasing her father, the Centre... even Jarod. But all that ended on the morning that Tommy was murdered - most likely by someone that she worked for... was related to. After that all of the rules went out the window, her goals focusing on somehow finding his killer and bringing that person to justice... until now. Jarod was returned to the Centre and it was no longer her mission to find him. She no longer worked for the Centre and its corporate ladder of power and success seemed a world away from the cold and lonely cemetery she prowled. And her father? He had slowly been disappearing from her life for so long that even his image had begun to fade. Everything was changed and gone, leaving her with a large hole within herself: one that had been filled by Jarod's simple words.
"First you have to do something to help," he whispered, his eyes begging her to listen to his words and to see reason.
"I don't know what you're expecting, but you're wrong," she countered. "This is what I've been waiting for for the last four years: to return you and finally be free of this hellhole!"
"I'm not talking about me," Jarod returned evenly, his voice quiet as his eyes locked with her own. "You know what your brother is doing is wrong," he continued, his voice insistent. "This is the exact thing that your mother fought against. How can you sit there and let an innocent girl be tortured like this? Changed?" he persisted, his voice cracking as his eyes slowly slid away. "How can you let her be taken away from her family? You have me now. You have your freedom. Use it to help her... your mother would have."
She had to wonder if Jarod had any idea what those simple words had done to her. The effect that they would have. For in the end, they did affect her - tremendously. Those words gave her a purpose again - a goal to work towards. And that was to somehow help Buffy Summers and make right all of the wrongs that her brother had caused the girl. While it was true that she still really had no idea just how she was going to do that, or what she hoped to find in Sunnydale, she knew that she needed to do something. At least it was a starting point.
Suddenly, all thoughts of introspection were forgotten as muffled shouts broke the quiet night. Crouching low, Miss Parker pulled her gun from the small holster she wore beneath her long jacket, her eyes trained warily on the darkness that surrounded her. Then, like a huntress that was accustomed to the dark night, she slowly straightened and made her way across the grounds, weaving around tombstones and mausoleums as the sounds of a fight drew near.
Bright light. Bright light everywhere, glaring at her, pulling her down. Too much light.
Pain - hot and searing, tearing through limb and vein like fire. Hot. Burning. Agony.
Make it stop. Please, just make it stop.
No more pain. God, please, just no more pain. Take it away!
And the light. Too bright - hurts. Eyes.. closed against light, searing me. Burning me.
Someone make it stop. Someone. Anyone.
Mommy?
"Nooooooo!!" the girl screamed, the words tearing out of her lips as her body seized, muscles pulling taut and back arching against the heavy straps that held her to the table.
"Hold her down!" someone barked out as a wave of white-coated personnel swarmed the table, each grabbing a limb and pushing down with all of their strength. Then, seconds later, it was over as the girl's body relaxed and she fell back to the table, limp and unmoving.
"Mr. Raines?" one of the staff asked, eyes turning to the man that directed their actions.
For a moment, the older man paused, his eyes sweeping over the girl's small body before locking on the many instruments that beeped around her, cataloging their progress and monitoring her body's struggle against the procedure. For the moment, everything was stable once again. Smiling shrewdly, Mr. Raines slowly nodded his head, a rare grin splitting his lips as he took in a greedy lungful of fresh oxygen. "Continue," he rasped, his eyes twinkling with mad delight.
Nodding once, the technician moved towards the IV that fed a steady drip of fluid into the girl and seized the bag firmly in one hand. Without hesitation, he emptied the small syringe into the bag, the fluid quickly taking on a sickly green hue as the drugs mixed and then slowly made their way down through the tubing and directly into the girl's blood stream.
"How long?" someone else asked, breaking the heavy silence that had fallen upon the room as every eye turned to the girl.
"Not long. Not long now," another responded, their voice trailing off as the heart monitor began to beep more and more quickly, cataloging her increased heart rate. And then, the other machines started to respond in kind as the girl's brain waves spiked, the needles going crazy and zig-zagging across the charts.
"Mr. Raines?" the same person inquired, his words muffled by his mask as the girl's muscles slowly began to contract once more, her pale face tightening into an expression of pure agony, despite her unconscious state. And then, as her mouth opened wide in a silent scream her body relaxed once more and then began to seize.
This time, Raines did nothing as the girl's body thrashed on the table, the group of doctors and nurses, technicians and suited men, idly watching as the seizure ripped through her small frame. Even when a white froth became visible between her tightly clenched teeth, the people in the room did nothing. Soon, the white froth turned pink, evidence that she had bitten her tongue at some point. Yet the people did nothing.
"What will her mind be like once completed?" Mr. Lyle asked from beside the aging doctor, his eyes taking in the girl's every second of pain with great relish.
"What mind?" came Raines slow reply, a cold grin lifting his lips as he tore his eyes away from the sight to meet those of the younger man. And then, he turned once again to take in the transformation. The transformation to his greatest project yet.