Chapter 4
Those were the only words the girl spoke before she lapsed into unconsciousness, silenced for the first time in days.
Sara held the terribly wounded girl in her arms, cradling her carefully, trying not to break open any of the multiple wounds that seemed to cover every part of her exposed flesh. The dried blood on the rags of clothing that remained on her body was testament to the damage that remained unseen, and the fact that the girl was still alive seemed a miracle in and of itself.
If it hadn't been for Xander's quick explanation, she wouldn't have given her any hope at all, but even with that information Sara knew the girl wouldn't last much longer.
'We have to get her out of here; I don't know how much longer she'll last - she could die at any moment. We have to get her to a hospital...'
'Hospital's not an option, she wouldn't make it. Even if she could, it'd be too dangerous for her - they couldn't risk her talking,' Xander called over his shoulder, firing rapidly down the hall as a chime (indicating the arrival of several elevators on the floor) could be heard echoing down the hall.
'Then whoever you've got in mind to help, he'd better be damn good at his job!!' Sara snarled back at him.
'She was recommended by a friend...a friend I trust. If he says she can do the job, she can do it.'
'And you believe him?'
Xander paused in his gunfire, the air now punctuated only by the erratic fire from Travers' pump-action shotgun beside him, turning to face her.
He didn't even bother replying, but just looked at her. A look that somehow managed to convey his absolute faith in his friend and his contempt for her question all at the same time, his scar twisting before turning back to the fight.
Suddenly, the outraged screams of demons could be heard from the hallway from where they had just come, the growls echoing down to where the small group paused. They couldn't go back the way they had just entered.
And as Sara looked around, the sight of the bare brick that covered all four walls of the room made her heart sink fast.
There was no way out.
They were trapped.
********************
'Lord Majoano, they're trapped,' reported the Kalzani demon to his master. 'There's no way out from the room they have retreated into, and we have Kalzani Jetzna in the next room breaking through. It should only be minutes before we have them. Nothing can stop us now!'
His master turned away from the comm unit in front of him, the unfinished report to his own superior interrupted by his subordinate.
'What did you just say?' he replied in a dangerous tone.
'Um...nothing can stop us now?' the messenger replied hesitatingly.
BANG!!
The now-headless messenger crumpled to the floor, the horns that had once decorated his forehead now spread across the far wall. The remaining subordinates that surrounded him backed away, their heads bowed in terrified subservience.
'How many times have I told you all?!' Lord Majoano screamed at them. 'How many times? Don't tell me something is going to happen, don't tell me something is bound to happen - and above all, DON'T TELL ME THAT NOTHING CAN STOP US NOW!!! Because when someone says that, SOMETHING BAD ALWAYS HAPPENS !!!!!!!!!!!'
The spittle flew from his jaws as Majoano screamed at them, his rage building on itself as his minions began to grovel, desperately trying to avoid bringing themselves to the attention of their less-than-sane master.
His skin flushed yellow with anger, his mouth opened wide, fangs dripping with ichor, the demon continued his rant, 'Now don't just stand there, get me-'
'Excuse me.'
The rant ceased as immediately as it had begun. The soft words coming from the videophone at his side were almost apologetic in tone, but were also enough to silence the Kalzani demon in an instant.
'Mr. Bolo, my apologies. I was just...'
'Majoano, stop talking. Now as I understand it, my building - my extremely well-guarded building - has been attacked, a number of my most well-paying clients have been killed, not to mention a large number of my soldiers, and my prize has been taken. Do you know how much money and respect all this is going to cost me?'
He continued, 'I'm extremely unhappy at this moment, Majoano. So, while I do appreciate the need for you to train and discipline your employees, I also feel that, quite possibly, there are more important things to do at this time. Perhaps you should be feeling that you need to find the individuals that have cost me so much? Maybe you should even stretch yourself to personally take part in their capture, hmm? From the front lines, so to speak?'
The voice never changed its pitch, the mild tone continuing throughout.
'In fact, certain movie phrases come to mind - something along the lines of...oh, I don't know...get it done or don't bother coming back, maybe? If you wouldn't mind? Not that I wish to put you to any inconvenience of course...'
By this point, the sweat was pouring down the face of the Kalzani demon, rivulets of green perspiration funneling down the grooves that criss- crossed his head. To say that he appeared afraid of the being at the other end of the line was a bit of an understatement.
To say that Majoano appeared scared out of his wits, would perhaps have been a more accurate way to put it.
As soon as the connection was terminated, the now-terrified Lord leapt from his skull-covered cobweb-strewn throne, sending it crashing against the floor, its cheap-ass imitation construction causing it to disintegrate on impact.
'You heard him! Let's go, move it, now!!' the demon screamed, his lordly poise now dropped like a cheap façade.
Snatching one of the huge axes clipped to the wall, he led the way out of the door, the minions that moments ago had been cowering before him now streaming out behind him, brandishing their own weaponry.
*********************
'Shit,' cursed Sara. 'Can we use a grenade, blast our way out?'
'No, we'd be caught up in the explosion. The fragments would cut us to ribbons, we wouldn't stand a chance,' replied Travers over his shoulder, firing down the hallway as he did so.
Quelling the panic before it had a chance to overwhelm them, Xander interrupted them. 'Don't worry. Travers, cover the doorway. Sara, stand back against the wall, keep her covered...'
Placing his heavier weapons to one side, he pulled one of the small red tubes from the array across his chest. Flipping the small nozzle at the end open, he traced the end of the tube in a rough circle against the exterior wall, leaving a thick trail of goo against the exposed brickwork.
Finishing the circle, he once more reached towards his body, pulling a small narrow pipe from its position by his hip and placing it flat against the surface of the wall covered by the transparent fluid.
Before the cylinder had a chance to fall to the ground, Xander ripped the last small blade from its sheath on his hip and smashed it against the silver tube.
Just as when he had used the same equipment in the Project's compound only a few weeks earlier, the reaction was immediate.
As the liquid from the smashed cylinder combined with the transparent goo in which it was imbedded, a thin blue line streaked around the trail as the chain reaction began.
The acidic effect ate its way through the bricks and plaster. With the ability to eat its way through solid steel already proven, it burned its way through the mortar as if it was waste paper, cutting through almost as fast as the eye could follow. In only a couple of seconds, it had made its way all the way through to the outside air, where its reaction ceased.
As the last section of the wall was cut through, the entire circular section shifted, dropping down fractionally in its place as it was separated from the rest of the wall.
Xander then took two paces back, and half-turning his body as he did so, he thrust his right leg out - extending it in a perfect Yoko-geri side kick. As his back foot turned, twisting around until it pointed away from the target, his left knee bent slightly as he moved. Xander's upper body then also shifted at the same time, his shoulder dropping as he turned slightly to the left, his right leg lifting and bending as he did so.
The extension of power that came from his coiled body was frightening, to any disinterested observer. The power generated by the movement of his hips flowing through his body, extending down his leg until it reached full force just as the knife-edge of his foot made contact with the wall's surface (his toes inside his boots curling away from the point of impact), was devastating to behold.
The power of that one kick was enough to send the section of wall flying away from the rest, plummeting down to the streets below; disintegrating as it did so, leaving a now almost-circular hole rising from the floor to the height of a man.
Had it not been for the girl they carried, perhaps a smaller hole would have been easier and faster to make, but sometimes you just have to play with the cards you're dealt.
Stepping forward, Xander and Sara paused by the hole in the wall, the smoke from the fires pouring out from behind them, enveloping them in the fumes. Sara could barely see through the smoke, weeping as the particles in the air rubbed against her corneas, turning her eyes red with the irritation.
Suddenly, a gust of wind blew almost straight at them, then whipped to blow diagonally past the duo. The smoke, following the path of the wind, forced them back into the room. But as the smoke cleared from in front of them, Xander and Sara could finally see the outside the building.
They stood there, 4 stories up, framed in the hole in the wall, with the fire raging behind them. And had there been any casual observers in the vicinity, they would have made an awesome sight.
The gunfire, explosions and their own entrance to the neighborhood had kept the locals inside their homes, however; none of them willing to risk their lives by venturing out into a war zone.
So only two individuals bore witness to the scene, standing motionless on the other side of the street, far below them
*************************
The taller of the two stood at least 6"5', with his skin color as black as coal. Not the dark brown that so often gets casually labelled as black, but true black; something more like that of a panther, than a normal man. He was paying little attention to the group standing above him, concentrating on the small computer fixed to his forearm, his other hand rapidly tapping on the touch-sensitive screen.
He turned to the figure beside him, and spoke calmly, 'Okay, they're ready - do your stuff.'
The smaller figure didn't reply; she merely lifted her head, tilting it up towards the sky. Her long robe covered her from head to toe, not leaving a single area of her body exposed. The deep blue robe, so dark that it seemed to change color with her bare movement, shifting from black to purple and then back to blue again, was long enough to cover the ground around her feet, ensuring that even her footwear could not be seen.
The sleeves of the cloak extended beyond the ends of her arms, reaching past the tips of her fingers so that even her hands were covered, masking the silken cut-off gloves that clung to her skin.
Staring at the three figures above her, a faint hum began - radiating outwards from her body. Still without saying a word, that hum increased as the woman raised her arms, her fingertips now extending past the sleeves of her cloak, peeking out at the ends.
As her arms reached almost level with her shoulders, faint blue sparks crackled from fingertip to fingertip, leaping from one to another in a continual stream as she drew on her impressive power reserves.
*********************
The bleep of the comp unit strapped to his forearm signaled to Xander the receipt of the information transmitted by the couple far below.
'Ok, the woman waiting for us can get her down, but she'll only be able to manage the girl. It looks like she lacks the power levels for this kind of spell, because she'll have to ensure that the girl remains immobile while she's moved. If it's the spell I think she's going to have to use, it's going to require all her concentration to manage it.'
'So, what do we do?' asked Sara.
Xander reached down to his utility belt, clicking open a catch and unwinding the thin steel cable coiled there.
'We're going to have to go down on this. We can't wait and hope she can get us down in time, and we're running out of ammo to keep them at bay. This fire could ignite the entire room at any moment, and they're trying to break through the walls....'
A loud explosion could be heard, coming from the room next door.
'We have to go. Now!!'
Lashing one end of the wire around the girder visible through the shattered ceiling, Xander flung the other end out through the hole, the cable whirring with the friction as it went.
Suddenly the critically injured woman, still held carefully in Sara's arms, began to float upwards, moving away from her protective embrace.
'Xander!!' Sara cried out in surprise at the unexpected movement, reaching out with her hands to catch the moving figure.
'NO! Leave her - it's the spell. She's being moved to safety, just let her go...'
The steady gunfire from the doorway was suddenly punctuated by the sound of a wet thud as a bullet reached its target, plowing into the crouched figure of Travers as he held off the swarm that had continued to try to break through their defenses.
'Fuuuuuuck!!' the yell could easily be heard.
Travers' mixture of a scream and a groan broke off the conversation. Xander dived to the doorway and snatched up the rifle that had fallen to the ground, continuing the gunfire down the hallway almost without interruption, preventing the demons from taking advantage of Travers' injury.
Sara forgot about the woman now slowly floating out of the hole in the wall and down towards the two figures across the road, flying across the room and dropping to her knees, the blood on the floor causing her to slide to the stricken figure.
'Shit, oh shit,' the SWAT team member muttered to herself as she caught sight of his wounds, the blood pouring from his chest, a gurgling noise coming from the same holes. Pink bubbles were popping from the bullet holes, frothing against his skin.
'We have to get him out of here, now!!'
'No...' Travers gurgled. 'You, you have to...leave me. You know I'm...ngh. Not going to...make it...'
'You have to come with us. You have to! I'm not leaving you behind here with them,' Sara whispered to him, panic on her face.
Summoning all his strength, Travers continued, 'I was never planning to leave here with you, Sara. I knew this was a one-way trip from the start. I'm going...nnnnnh...to be with Jenny soon. Now, prop me up and gimme the rifle. I'll hold them off long enough for you to get out...'
Sara tried to protest, but she was cut short by the scarred figure still firing from the doorway.
'He's right. There's nothing we can do for him now, Sara. He'll drown in his own blood, if he doesn't bleed out first. We can't get him away, and they'll be in here at any moment. Let's go.'
Xander pulled Travers up, propping him up by the doorway, and placing the rifle in his hand, still firing down the hallway with the pistol in his other hand.
Turning away, the former Zeppo pulled Sara from her fallen colleague, shoving her towards the hole that was their exit. 'Go!!' Xander screamed, making her move by the sheer threat potential in his tone.
Even as he thrust her away, the young man could hear the demons in the room next door, the first cracks appearing in the plasterwork.
'Take these,' he ordered Travers, placing his chain of grenades by the other guy's waist. 'And don't let them take you alive...'
A touch of sanity and calmness returned to Travers' eyes for the first time since the disaster just a few short months earlier, and for an instant their eyes locked - acknowledging what had happened, and what was about to happen.
'Thank you.'
They were the first and only words Travers had said to him that day. The first and only words he had ever said to him, actually.
Xander didn't need to reply, and in fact didn't even consider it.
Every man has a right to make his own choices in life; and in this world, if that choice involves the manner of your death, then what the hell - you've come out better than most.
Xander paused for one final moment, searing yet another face into his memory, bearing witness to yet another casualty of his never-ending battle. Then he turned away, sprinting the few yards across the room to the wire that meant their only way out, muscles pumping as he ran.
'Put your arms around my neck and hang on!' he screamed at the shaken form of Sara, grasping the wire in his hands as he did so, feeling it bite into his palms.
As the gunshots continued behind him, feeling her arms wrapped around him, he climbed out - the toes of his rubber boots the only thing preventing the duo plummeting to their deaths, as he used his hands to edge past the floor, where the wire rubbed sharply against the broken bricks.
Passing the point of friction, the one-time Slayerette began to slide down as fast as he could, his speed limited only by the need to avoid cutting his own fingers off with the friction of the steel wire.
Fifty yards to the ground.
Forty.
Thirty.
The critically injured Slayer had made it down already, ushered carefully into the waiting van, the hooded figure still glowing as the man beside her watched the progress of the pair sliding down the side of the building across from him.
Twenty-five.
KA-BOOOOOOOMMMMMMM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
*********************
'My Lord, we're almost through,' the frantic demon called to his master standing over his shoulder. 'Any moment now...'
'Stop talking and get on with it,' Majoano snarled back at him, his frustration getting the better of him as he watched the group hammering away at the wall with sledgehammers.
The demon knew he had to get through. He had to capture or kill the invaders. He had to recover the Slayer.
For if he didn't, the evil thing knew his life was worth less than nothing, that he was as good as dead anyway. Bolo would see to that.
The first hole in the wall appeared as the bricks and mortar were battered under the repeated heavy impacts, the cracks spreading up and across the smooth plasterwork on both sides of the wall.
Suddenly, a large chunk of the wall that separated them from their target shattered under yet another heavy hammer blow. As the material crumpled, a cloud of dust billowed upwards, obscuring their vision for a moment.
That didn't stop Lord Majoano from pushing aside those who had been breaking through the wall, shoving them out of his way as he thrust his massive frame through the hole, blinking frantically as he tried to find his targets, his supporters charging through after him.
For a moment, there was a sudden silence as the gunfire that had continued intermittently suddenly ceased, with only the breathing of those who had just entered and the footsteps of those charging down the now-undefended corridor filling the air.
The sight of the hole in the far wall drew the demons across the room as the dust settled, the thought of their prey escaping adding extra speed to their steps.
The wire that hung down from the exposed girder and led out of the hole made the Lord curse, as he ran. But just as Majoano reached the exit hole before all the others, a sound from behind him caused him to skid to a halt, his minions slamming into him from behind.
Travers had actually gone unnoticed as the demons had charged into the room, his body covered in the dust and debris of their entrance, but the gurgle from his lips as he attempted to speak was enough to now draw their attention towards him in an instant.
And in another instant Majoano was across the room and in front of him, reaching down and gripping him around the throat, lifting him high from the ground. The jagged claws of the Kalzani demon were cutting deep into his throat, but Travers didn't feel them. At this point, he wasn't feeling much at all.
'Who are you? Why did you come here?' Lord Majoano roared futilely, his own sense of rage and frustration distracting him from the more obvious tactic of pursuing those still fleeing down the wire.
The huge Kalzani spat into the face of the human suspended in front of him, trying to force answers from him, trying to intimidate him into responding.
But even as he realized that he was having little-to-no effect, the demon's time was running out. The human he held in front of him showed no fear, nor any pain despite the wounds that were causing his lifeblood to pour out from him, and the look in his eyes suddenly made Majoano realize the scope of his error.
Bolo would have no chance to punish him for his failures, no chance to make him regret his mistakes, for even as the Kalzani demon gazed into the eyes of his prey, he realized what was strapped across the man's body.
Grenades.
Lots and LOTS of grenades.
And as he dropped his slitted eyes downwards, Majoano didn't have to move them much to foresee his own death.
The small silver pin that hung limply from the man's teeth was enough. Lord Majoano may have been a demon, but he was by no means ignorant of modern human weaponry.
Unfortunately, that knowledge served him little purpose; for even as he lifted his eyes back to those of the man dangling in front of him, the grenade's time delay ended.
The last thing the demon ever saw was the look of satisfied resignation in Travers' eyes. There were no last words from his killer, the red blood that poured from his mouth preventing that, but no matter.
Last moment words serve little.
And change nothing.
*******************
The grenade that went off first ended the lives of both Travers and the demon that held him, blowing them apart in an instant, and tearing into the minions that were still pouring into the room.
It was a few moments later, before the rest of them died. As the first grenade ignited, the heat raced the short few inches to the other such incendiary devices strung down across Travers' chest, setting off a chain reaction.
It took perhaps a quarter of a second from the second grenade igniting till the last of them blew; a series of explosions so close together that they seemed like one, building on each other as they exploded.
The size of the explosion shook the building to its core, the resulting fireball sent racing down the corridor within which the demons had been attempting to advance, frying them in mid-motion.
The sheer magnitude of the explosion was sufficient to set off other explosions within the building, as the various weaponry and drugs ignited under the heat.
These resulting series of explosions that spread throughout the rest of the fortress were lost on those in the vicinity of the epicenter, however. With the death of the various demons in the rooms and corridors around, the only ones left anywhere near the explosion were those suspended from the wire that hung outside.
They were still 25 yards off the ground when the first explosion went off, the jet of flame racing out of the hole through which they had just escaped, the resulting shockwave sending them slamming against the wall of the building, crashing against the unyielding surface.
'Aaaargh!!!!' screamed Sara into Xander's back, as her shoulder impacted against the brickwork. They spun frantically, her shoulder popping out of its socket in the process, making just holding onto her companion an exercise in extreme pain management.
The dark figure to which she clung didn't make a sound though, all of his energies going into maintaining his hold on the wire as they spun.
He nearly managed it.
The fireball, the shockwave, the spinning, the impact - none of these was enough to send them plummeting downwards.
But the grenade fragment that flew outwards from the last explosion, and severed the cable in one slicing motion...that was enough.
They fell.
*********************
Sara could hear herself screaming as she did so, her arms releasing their now-futile grip around the man's neck, no longer clinging to a body which could no longer support her.
But even as they fell, Xander was moving, and so was the huge figure across the street, racing toward their point of impact.
Twenty-five yards is not the longest distance to fall. Almost the length of a swimming pool, or half a dozen cars, it's survivable. But it's still enough to break bones, fracture limbs, and maybe even kill you.
So when she landed in the cradling arms of the witch's assistant, Sara could still hear herself praying. 'Oh please, mother of God, don't let me die. Not like this...'
Even after she had landed, her downward motion stopped, she couldn't stop herself praying, the words tumbling from her mouth. 'Oh please God, please God, don't let me die like this.'
Her words only ended when the man holding her spoke.
'You're down, you're safe. No thanks to God, though.'
His deep voice, almost a growl, was matched perfectly with the faint smile on his face, a smile made truly scary by the fangs that extended from each corner of his mouth, giving a vicious twist to his bland expression.
Sara never saw Xander land, never saw him twist his body in the air like a cat, landing on all fours, absorbing the impact with impossible balance and skill.
She never even saw him make his way quickly to the waiting van, diving into the passenger seat.
Every human has his or her breaking point. A point at which adrenaline, stress, emotion, whatever, becomes too much to handle.
For Sara, that point had been when she had thought she was finally about to die, smashed to pieces by the fall. Her subsequent rescue had seen her adrenaline levels go through the roof, as she realized she was safe.
It was almost impossible to believe that she had made it out alive, that they had gotten the girl out and away. The sight of those teeth was just one more piece of pressure, the straw that broke the camel's back - so to speak.
So on that realization, her body and mind...shut down.
Sara missed the explosion of the van they had arrived at the scene in, the booby-trapped vehicle destroyed in a ball of flames from the first attempt by the locals to get inside.
She missed the journey away from the building, missed the flames pouring from many of its windows as its slow collapse began.
And she missed the move from one van to another, extreme precautions being followed even under these extreme circumstances.
*********************
It took less than half an hour to travel from the dangerous slums of Block 17 and its surroundings, to the much calmer area in which they were now ensconced.
That such a short journey could take them from one of the most dangerous places in the world to a leafy haven such as this, wasn't exactly an advertisement for the equality and distribution of wealth in the Western world - but right now that really wasn't important.
What was important was that the location allowed the witch the time and calm required to do the healing spells she knew.
For the fight to save the Slayer's life to begin.
*********************
The witch was tired.
It had taken almost ten hours before she could say with any confidence that the girl might live. Had the rescue taken place perhaps even an hour later, then no magic in the world could have saved the girl, even with her accelerated healing. Only with the possible exception of blood sacrifice magic could any delay have been managed, something this particular white witch would never perform.
The air crackled as the time passed, the molecules in the surrounding atmosphere fairly sparkling with the energies being expended, the heightened ozone causing an acrid smell to fill the room at times, almost overwhelming the smell of rotted flesh that enveloped the girl.
At times it had seemed hopeless, the patient's life force draining away before her eyes, slipping through her fingers; but every time she was on the verge of conceding defeat, that same life force would flare up again, bringing with it renewed hope.
The power being released in the small room, both from the healer and from the Slayer had definitely heated the surroundings, forcing the temperature up to almost sauna levels; but throughout it all the healer had remained cloaked, showing almost no sign that she felt this heat even as she worked.
Ten hours of sweat, of effort and toil, of fighting to hold back what at times had appeared inevitable.
Ten hours of prayer, of pleading to her goddess, of spell after spell, potion after potion.
There was nothing more she could do, her energies getting drained to the point of personal collapse, but in the end it had worked.
Maybe.
*********************
The lightshow that had appeared from the small crack at the base of the doorway had kept Sara awake, once she had been revived; the stress, sound and smell preventing her from obtaining the sleep she so badly needed.
The woman had been left alone once more while the fight to save the girl was going on, her tall catcher having disappeared before she had awoken, and Xander...well, he had shown little concern for the girl once he had brought her out, spending half his time in communication with unseen parties and the rest of the time in seemingly-endless meditation, ignoring her own efforts at interaction.
It was only when the witch had called the others in, allowed them to watch over the unconscious figure of the person they had just rescued, to bear witness to her life or death, that Xander had stirred, joined by the tall black man, or what Sara thought was probably a man.
**************
With her work done, the cloaked woman stood just outside the doorway, watching them from the shadows, an outsider once again. She was used to that, to watching, observing, witnessing, never getting deeply involved.
The Wicca had seen scenes like this many times over the years, had witnessed lives saved and lives lost, for she could not save everyone. No matter how much skill she had, no matter how hard she tried.
The small group was huddled over the woman now left lying on the firm surface, her head supported slightly by a rolled up towel. Her unconscious state was no longer the result of the cruel wounds she had been inflicted with, but the result of the healing trance that she had been placed in.
Whether the Chosen One would survive or not rested in her own hands now, and even with Slayer strength and the skills of her healer, her chances were still no better than 50:50. And as said had the healing been started hours, possibly even minutes later, then it would have been too late for her.
It might still be.
The cloaked figure was tempted to turn away once more, to retreat into the shadows, avoiding personal contact yet again, but this time she hesitated. It had been too many years since she had last seen him, and even longer since she had spoken to Xander Harris.
And despite the rumors, despite knowing that he was no longer the boy - the man - he used to be, she felt that she had to speak to him.
She had to see if there was anything of his former self left.
'Hello, Xander.'
Those were the only words the girl spoke before she lapsed into unconsciousness, silenced for the first time in days.
Sara held the terribly wounded girl in her arms, cradling her carefully, trying not to break open any of the multiple wounds that seemed to cover every part of her exposed flesh. The dried blood on the rags of clothing that remained on her body was testament to the damage that remained unseen, and the fact that the girl was still alive seemed a miracle in and of itself.
If it hadn't been for Xander's quick explanation, she wouldn't have given her any hope at all, but even with that information Sara knew the girl wouldn't last much longer.
'We have to get her out of here; I don't know how much longer she'll last - she could die at any moment. We have to get her to a hospital...'
'Hospital's not an option, she wouldn't make it. Even if she could, it'd be too dangerous for her - they couldn't risk her talking,' Xander called over his shoulder, firing rapidly down the hall as a chime (indicating the arrival of several elevators on the floor) could be heard echoing down the hall.
'Then whoever you've got in mind to help, he'd better be damn good at his job!!' Sara snarled back at him.
'She was recommended by a friend...a friend I trust. If he says she can do the job, she can do it.'
'And you believe him?'
Xander paused in his gunfire, the air now punctuated only by the erratic fire from Travers' pump-action shotgun beside him, turning to face her.
He didn't even bother replying, but just looked at her. A look that somehow managed to convey his absolute faith in his friend and his contempt for her question all at the same time, his scar twisting before turning back to the fight.
Suddenly, the outraged screams of demons could be heard from the hallway from where they had just come, the growls echoing down to where the small group paused. They couldn't go back the way they had just entered.
And as Sara looked around, the sight of the bare brick that covered all four walls of the room made her heart sink fast.
There was no way out.
They were trapped.
********************
'Lord Majoano, they're trapped,' reported the Kalzani demon to his master. 'There's no way out from the room they have retreated into, and we have Kalzani Jetzna in the next room breaking through. It should only be minutes before we have them. Nothing can stop us now!'
His master turned away from the comm unit in front of him, the unfinished report to his own superior interrupted by his subordinate.
'What did you just say?' he replied in a dangerous tone.
'Um...nothing can stop us now?' the messenger replied hesitatingly.
BANG!!
The now-headless messenger crumpled to the floor, the horns that had once decorated his forehead now spread across the far wall. The remaining subordinates that surrounded him backed away, their heads bowed in terrified subservience.
'How many times have I told you all?!' Lord Majoano screamed at them. 'How many times? Don't tell me something is going to happen, don't tell me something is bound to happen - and above all, DON'T TELL ME THAT NOTHING CAN STOP US NOW!!! Because when someone says that, SOMETHING BAD ALWAYS HAPPENS !!!!!!!!!!!'
The spittle flew from his jaws as Majoano screamed at them, his rage building on itself as his minions began to grovel, desperately trying to avoid bringing themselves to the attention of their less-than-sane master.
His skin flushed yellow with anger, his mouth opened wide, fangs dripping with ichor, the demon continued his rant, 'Now don't just stand there, get me-'
'Excuse me.'
The rant ceased as immediately as it had begun. The soft words coming from the videophone at his side were almost apologetic in tone, but were also enough to silence the Kalzani demon in an instant.
'Mr. Bolo, my apologies. I was just...'
'Majoano, stop talking. Now as I understand it, my building - my extremely well-guarded building - has been attacked, a number of my most well-paying clients have been killed, not to mention a large number of my soldiers, and my prize has been taken. Do you know how much money and respect all this is going to cost me?'
He continued, 'I'm extremely unhappy at this moment, Majoano. So, while I do appreciate the need for you to train and discipline your employees, I also feel that, quite possibly, there are more important things to do at this time. Perhaps you should be feeling that you need to find the individuals that have cost me so much? Maybe you should even stretch yourself to personally take part in their capture, hmm? From the front lines, so to speak?'
The voice never changed its pitch, the mild tone continuing throughout.
'In fact, certain movie phrases come to mind - something along the lines of...oh, I don't know...get it done or don't bother coming back, maybe? If you wouldn't mind? Not that I wish to put you to any inconvenience of course...'
By this point, the sweat was pouring down the face of the Kalzani demon, rivulets of green perspiration funneling down the grooves that criss- crossed his head. To say that he appeared afraid of the being at the other end of the line was a bit of an understatement.
To say that Majoano appeared scared out of his wits, would perhaps have been a more accurate way to put it.
As soon as the connection was terminated, the now-terrified Lord leapt from his skull-covered cobweb-strewn throne, sending it crashing against the floor, its cheap-ass imitation construction causing it to disintegrate on impact.
'You heard him! Let's go, move it, now!!' the demon screamed, his lordly poise now dropped like a cheap façade.
Snatching one of the huge axes clipped to the wall, he led the way out of the door, the minions that moments ago had been cowering before him now streaming out behind him, brandishing their own weaponry.
*********************
'Shit,' cursed Sara. 'Can we use a grenade, blast our way out?'
'No, we'd be caught up in the explosion. The fragments would cut us to ribbons, we wouldn't stand a chance,' replied Travers over his shoulder, firing down the hallway as he did so.
Quelling the panic before it had a chance to overwhelm them, Xander interrupted them. 'Don't worry. Travers, cover the doorway. Sara, stand back against the wall, keep her covered...'
Placing his heavier weapons to one side, he pulled one of the small red tubes from the array across his chest. Flipping the small nozzle at the end open, he traced the end of the tube in a rough circle against the exterior wall, leaving a thick trail of goo against the exposed brickwork.
Finishing the circle, he once more reached towards his body, pulling a small narrow pipe from its position by his hip and placing it flat against the surface of the wall covered by the transparent fluid.
Before the cylinder had a chance to fall to the ground, Xander ripped the last small blade from its sheath on his hip and smashed it against the silver tube.
Just as when he had used the same equipment in the Project's compound only a few weeks earlier, the reaction was immediate.
As the liquid from the smashed cylinder combined with the transparent goo in which it was imbedded, a thin blue line streaked around the trail as the chain reaction began.
The acidic effect ate its way through the bricks and plaster. With the ability to eat its way through solid steel already proven, it burned its way through the mortar as if it was waste paper, cutting through almost as fast as the eye could follow. In only a couple of seconds, it had made its way all the way through to the outside air, where its reaction ceased.
As the last section of the wall was cut through, the entire circular section shifted, dropping down fractionally in its place as it was separated from the rest of the wall.
Xander then took two paces back, and half-turning his body as he did so, he thrust his right leg out - extending it in a perfect Yoko-geri side kick. As his back foot turned, twisting around until it pointed away from the target, his left knee bent slightly as he moved. Xander's upper body then also shifted at the same time, his shoulder dropping as he turned slightly to the left, his right leg lifting and bending as he did so.
The extension of power that came from his coiled body was frightening, to any disinterested observer. The power generated by the movement of his hips flowing through his body, extending down his leg until it reached full force just as the knife-edge of his foot made contact with the wall's surface (his toes inside his boots curling away from the point of impact), was devastating to behold.
The power of that one kick was enough to send the section of wall flying away from the rest, plummeting down to the streets below; disintegrating as it did so, leaving a now almost-circular hole rising from the floor to the height of a man.
Had it not been for the girl they carried, perhaps a smaller hole would have been easier and faster to make, but sometimes you just have to play with the cards you're dealt.
Stepping forward, Xander and Sara paused by the hole in the wall, the smoke from the fires pouring out from behind them, enveloping them in the fumes. Sara could barely see through the smoke, weeping as the particles in the air rubbed against her corneas, turning her eyes red with the irritation.
Suddenly, a gust of wind blew almost straight at them, then whipped to blow diagonally past the duo. The smoke, following the path of the wind, forced them back into the room. But as the smoke cleared from in front of them, Xander and Sara could finally see the outside the building.
They stood there, 4 stories up, framed in the hole in the wall, with the fire raging behind them. And had there been any casual observers in the vicinity, they would have made an awesome sight.
The gunfire, explosions and their own entrance to the neighborhood had kept the locals inside their homes, however; none of them willing to risk their lives by venturing out into a war zone.
So only two individuals bore witness to the scene, standing motionless on the other side of the street, far below them
*************************
The taller of the two stood at least 6"5', with his skin color as black as coal. Not the dark brown that so often gets casually labelled as black, but true black; something more like that of a panther, than a normal man. He was paying little attention to the group standing above him, concentrating on the small computer fixed to his forearm, his other hand rapidly tapping on the touch-sensitive screen.
He turned to the figure beside him, and spoke calmly, 'Okay, they're ready - do your stuff.'
The smaller figure didn't reply; she merely lifted her head, tilting it up towards the sky. Her long robe covered her from head to toe, not leaving a single area of her body exposed. The deep blue robe, so dark that it seemed to change color with her bare movement, shifting from black to purple and then back to blue again, was long enough to cover the ground around her feet, ensuring that even her footwear could not be seen.
The sleeves of the cloak extended beyond the ends of her arms, reaching past the tips of her fingers so that even her hands were covered, masking the silken cut-off gloves that clung to her skin.
Staring at the three figures above her, a faint hum began - radiating outwards from her body. Still without saying a word, that hum increased as the woman raised her arms, her fingertips now extending past the sleeves of her cloak, peeking out at the ends.
As her arms reached almost level with her shoulders, faint blue sparks crackled from fingertip to fingertip, leaping from one to another in a continual stream as she drew on her impressive power reserves.
*********************
The bleep of the comp unit strapped to his forearm signaled to Xander the receipt of the information transmitted by the couple far below.
'Ok, the woman waiting for us can get her down, but she'll only be able to manage the girl. It looks like she lacks the power levels for this kind of spell, because she'll have to ensure that the girl remains immobile while she's moved. If it's the spell I think she's going to have to use, it's going to require all her concentration to manage it.'
'So, what do we do?' asked Sara.
Xander reached down to his utility belt, clicking open a catch and unwinding the thin steel cable coiled there.
'We're going to have to go down on this. We can't wait and hope she can get us down in time, and we're running out of ammo to keep them at bay. This fire could ignite the entire room at any moment, and they're trying to break through the walls....'
A loud explosion could be heard, coming from the room next door.
'We have to go. Now!!'
Lashing one end of the wire around the girder visible through the shattered ceiling, Xander flung the other end out through the hole, the cable whirring with the friction as it went.
Suddenly the critically injured woman, still held carefully in Sara's arms, began to float upwards, moving away from her protective embrace.
'Xander!!' Sara cried out in surprise at the unexpected movement, reaching out with her hands to catch the moving figure.
'NO! Leave her - it's the spell. She's being moved to safety, just let her go...'
The steady gunfire from the doorway was suddenly punctuated by the sound of a wet thud as a bullet reached its target, plowing into the crouched figure of Travers as he held off the swarm that had continued to try to break through their defenses.
'Fuuuuuuck!!' the yell could easily be heard.
Travers' mixture of a scream and a groan broke off the conversation. Xander dived to the doorway and snatched up the rifle that had fallen to the ground, continuing the gunfire down the hallway almost without interruption, preventing the demons from taking advantage of Travers' injury.
Sara forgot about the woman now slowly floating out of the hole in the wall and down towards the two figures across the road, flying across the room and dropping to her knees, the blood on the floor causing her to slide to the stricken figure.
'Shit, oh shit,' the SWAT team member muttered to herself as she caught sight of his wounds, the blood pouring from his chest, a gurgling noise coming from the same holes. Pink bubbles were popping from the bullet holes, frothing against his skin.
'We have to get him out of here, now!!'
'No...' Travers gurgled. 'You, you have to...leave me. You know I'm...ngh. Not going to...make it...'
'You have to come with us. You have to! I'm not leaving you behind here with them,' Sara whispered to him, panic on her face.
Summoning all his strength, Travers continued, 'I was never planning to leave here with you, Sara. I knew this was a one-way trip from the start. I'm going...nnnnnh...to be with Jenny soon. Now, prop me up and gimme the rifle. I'll hold them off long enough for you to get out...'
Sara tried to protest, but she was cut short by the scarred figure still firing from the doorway.
'He's right. There's nothing we can do for him now, Sara. He'll drown in his own blood, if he doesn't bleed out first. We can't get him away, and they'll be in here at any moment. Let's go.'
Xander pulled Travers up, propping him up by the doorway, and placing the rifle in his hand, still firing down the hallway with the pistol in his other hand.
Turning away, the former Zeppo pulled Sara from her fallen colleague, shoving her towards the hole that was their exit. 'Go!!' Xander screamed, making her move by the sheer threat potential in his tone.
Even as he thrust her away, the young man could hear the demons in the room next door, the first cracks appearing in the plasterwork.
'Take these,' he ordered Travers, placing his chain of grenades by the other guy's waist. 'And don't let them take you alive...'
A touch of sanity and calmness returned to Travers' eyes for the first time since the disaster just a few short months earlier, and for an instant their eyes locked - acknowledging what had happened, and what was about to happen.
'Thank you.'
They were the first and only words Travers had said to him that day. The first and only words he had ever said to him, actually.
Xander didn't need to reply, and in fact didn't even consider it.
Every man has a right to make his own choices in life; and in this world, if that choice involves the manner of your death, then what the hell - you've come out better than most.
Xander paused for one final moment, searing yet another face into his memory, bearing witness to yet another casualty of his never-ending battle. Then he turned away, sprinting the few yards across the room to the wire that meant their only way out, muscles pumping as he ran.
'Put your arms around my neck and hang on!' he screamed at the shaken form of Sara, grasping the wire in his hands as he did so, feeling it bite into his palms.
As the gunshots continued behind him, feeling her arms wrapped around him, he climbed out - the toes of his rubber boots the only thing preventing the duo plummeting to their deaths, as he used his hands to edge past the floor, where the wire rubbed sharply against the broken bricks.
Passing the point of friction, the one-time Slayerette began to slide down as fast as he could, his speed limited only by the need to avoid cutting his own fingers off with the friction of the steel wire.
Fifty yards to the ground.
Forty.
Thirty.
The critically injured Slayer had made it down already, ushered carefully into the waiting van, the hooded figure still glowing as the man beside her watched the progress of the pair sliding down the side of the building across from him.
Twenty-five.
KA-BOOOOOOOMMMMMMM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
*********************
'My Lord, we're almost through,' the frantic demon called to his master standing over his shoulder. 'Any moment now...'
'Stop talking and get on with it,' Majoano snarled back at him, his frustration getting the better of him as he watched the group hammering away at the wall with sledgehammers.
The demon knew he had to get through. He had to capture or kill the invaders. He had to recover the Slayer.
For if he didn't, the evil thing knew his life was worth less than nothing, that he was as good as dead anyway. Bolo would see to that.
The first hole in the wall appeared as the bricks and mortar were battered under the repeated heavy impacts, the cracks spreading up and across the smooth plasterwork on both sides of the wall.
Suddenly, a large chunk of the wall that separated them from their target shattered under yet another heavy hammer blow. As the material crumpled, a cloud of dust billowed upwards, obscuring their vision for a moment.
That didn't stop Lord Majoano from pushing aside those who had been breaking through the wall, shoving them out of his way as he thrust his massive frame through the hole, blinking frantically as he tried to find his targets, his supporters charging through after him.
For a moment, there was a sudden silence as the gunfire that had continued intermittently suddenly ceased, with only the breathing of those who had just entered and the footsteps of those charging down the now-undefended corridor filling the air.
The sight of the hole in the far wall drew the demons across the room as the dust settled, the thought of their prey escaping adding extra speed to their steps.
The wire that hung down from the exposed girder and led out of the hole made the Lord curse, as he ran. But just as Majoano reached the exit hole before all the others, a sound from behind him caused him to skid to a halt, his minions slamming into him from behind.
Travers had actually gone unnoticed as the demons had charged into the room, his body covered in the dust and debris of their entrance, but the gurgle from his lips as he attempted to speak was enough to now draw their attention towards him in an instant.
And in another instant Majoano was across the room and in front of him, reaching down and gripping him around the throat, lifting him high from the ground. The jagged claws of the Kalzani demon were cutting deep into his throat, but Travers didn't feel them. At this point, he wasn't feeling much at all.
'Who are you? Why did you come here?' Lord Majoano roared futilely, his own sense of rage and frustration distracting him from the more obvious tactic of pursuing those still fleeing down the wire.
The huge Kalzani spat into the face of the human suspended in front of him, trying to force answers from him, trying to intimidate him into responding.
But even as he realized that he was having little-to-no effect, the demon's time was running out. The human he held in front of him showed no fear, nor any pain despite the wounds that were causing his lifeblood to pour out from him, and the look in his eyes suddenly made Majoano realize the scope of his error.
Bolo would have no chance to punish him for his failures, no chance to make him regret his mistakes, for even as the Kalzani demon gazed into the eyes of his prey, he realized what was strapped across the man's body.
Grenades.
Lots and LOTS of grenades.
And as he dropped his slitted eyes downwards, Majoano didn't have to move them much to foresee his own death.
The small silver pin that hung limply from the man's teeth was enough. Lord Majoano may have been a demon, but he was by no means ignorant of modern human weaponry.
Unfortunately, that knowledge served him little purpose; for even as he lifted his eyes back to those of the man dangling in front of him, the grenade's time delay ended.
The last thing the demon ever saw was the look of satisfied resignation in Travers' eyes. There were no last words from his killer, the red blood that poured from his mouth preventing that, but no matter.
Last moment words serve little.
And change nothing.
*******************
The grenade that went off first ended the lives of both Travers and the demon that held him, blowing them apart in an instant, and tearing into the minions that were still pouring into the room.
It was a few moments later, before the rest of them died. As the first grenade ignited, the heat raced the short few inches to the other such incendiary devices strung down across Travers' chest, setting off a chain reaction.
It took perhaps a quarter of a second from the second grenade igniting till the last of them blew; a series of explosions so close together that they seemed like one, building on each other as they exploded.
The size of the explosion shook the building to its core, the resulting fireball sent racing down the corridor within which the demons had been attempting to advance, frying them in mid-motion.
The sheer magnitude of the explosion was sufficient to set off other explosions within the building, as the various weaponry and drugs ignited under the heat.
These resulting series of explosions that spread throughout the rest of the fortress were lost on those in the vicinity of the epicenter, however. With the death of the various demons in the rooms and corridors around, the only ones left anywhere near the explosion were those suspended from the wire that hung outside.
They were still 25 yards off the ground when the first explosion went off, the jet of flame racing out of the hole through which they had just escaped, the resulting shockwave sending them slamming against the wall of the building, crashing against the unyielding surface.
'Aaaargh!!!!' screamed Sara into Xander's back, as her shoulder impacted against the brickwork. They spun frantically, her shoulder popping out of its socket in the process, making just holding onto her companion an exercise in extreme pain management.
The dark figure to which she clung didn't make a sound though, all of his energies going into maintaining his hold on the wire as they spun.
He nearly managed it.
The fireball, the shockwave, the spinning, the impact - none of these was enough to send them plummeting downwards.
But the grenade fragment that flew outwards from the last explosion, and severed the cable in one slicing motion...that was enough.
They fell.
*********************
Sara could hear herself screaming as she did so, her arms releasing their now-futile grip around the man's neck, no longer clinging to a body which could no longer support her.
But even as they fell, Xander was moving, and so was the huge figure across the street, racing toward their point of impact.
Twenty-five yards is not the longest distance to fall. Almost the length of a swimming pool, or half a dozen cars, it's survivable. But it's still enough to break bones, fracture limbs, and maybe even kill you.
So when she landed in the cradling arms of the witch's assistant, Sara could still hear herself praying. 'Oh please, mother of God, don't let me die. Not like this...'
Even after she had landed, her downward motion stopped, she couldn't stop herself praying, the words tumbling from her mouth. 'Oh please God, please God, don't let me die like this.'
Her words only ended when the man holding her spoke.
'You're down, you're safe. No thanks to God, though.'
His deep voice, almost a growl, was matched perfectly with the faint smile on his face, a smile made truly scary by the fangs that extended from each corner of his mouth, giving a vicious twist to his bland expression.
Sara never saw Xander land, never saw him twist his body in the air like a cat, landing on all fours, absorbing the impact with impossible balance and skill.
She never even saw him make his way quickly to the waiting van, diving into the passenger seat.
Every human has his or her breaking point. A point at which adrenaline, stress, emotion, whatever, becomes too much to handle.
For Sara, that point had been when she had thought she was finally about to die, smashed to pieces by the fall. Her subsequent rescue had seen her adrenaline levels go through the roof, as she realized she was safe.
It was almost impossible to believe that she had made it out alive, that they had gotten the girl out and away. The sight of those teeth was just one more piece of pressure, the straw that broke the camel's back - so to speak.
So on that realization, her body and mind...shut down.
Sara missed the explosion of the van they had arrived at the scene in, the booby-trapped vehicle destroyed in a ball of flames from the first attempt by the locals to get inside.
She missed the journey away from the building, missed the flames pouring from many of its windows as its slow collapse began.
And she missed the move from one van to another, extreme precautions being followed even under these extreme circumstances.
*********************
It took less than half an hour to travel from the dangerous slums of Block 17 and its surroundings, to the much calmer area in which they were now ensconced.
That such a short journey could take them from one of the most dangerous places in the world to a leafy haven such as this, wasn't exactly an advertisement for the equality and distribution of wealth in the Western world - but right now that really wasn't important.
What was important was that the location allowed the witch the time and calm required to do the healing spells she knew.
For the fight to save the Slayer's life to begin.
*********************
The witch was tired.
It had taken almost ten hours before she could say with any confidence that the girl might live. Had the rescue taken place perhaps even an hour later, then no magic in the world could have saved the girl, even with her accelerated healing. Only with the possible exception of blood sacrifice magic could any delay have been managed, something this particular white witch would never perform.
The air crackled as the time passed, the molecules in the surrounding atmosphere fairly sparkling with the energies being expended, the heightened ozone causing an acrid smell to fill the room at times, almost overwhelming the smell of rotted flesh that enveloped the girl.
At times it had seemed hopeless, the patient's life force draining away before her eyes, slipping through her fingers; but every time she was on the verge of conceding defeat, that same life force would flare up again, bringing with it renewed hope.
The power being released in the small room, both from the healer and from the Slayer had definitely heated the surroundings, forcing the temperature up to almost sauna levels; but throughout it all the healer had remained cloaked, showing almost no sign that she felt this heat even as she worked.
Ten hours of sweat, of effort and toil, of fighting to hold back what at times had appeared inevitable.
Ten hours of prayer, of pleading to her goddess, of spell after spell, potion after potion.
There was nothing more she could do, her energies getting drained to the point of personal collapse, but in the end it had worked.
Maybe.
*********************
The lightshow that had appeared from the small crack at the base of the doorway had kept Sara awake, once she had been revived; the stress, sound and smell preventing her from obtaining the sleep she so badly needed.
The woman had been left alone once more while the fight to save the girl was going on, her tall catcher having disappeared before she had awoken, and Xander...well, he had shown little concern for the girl once he had brought her out, spending half his time in communication with unseen parties and the rest of the time in seemingly-endless meditation, ignoring her own efforts at interaction.
It was only when the witch had called the others in, allowed them to watch over the unconscious figure of the person they had just rescued, to bear witness to her life or death, that Xander had stirred, joined by the tall black man, or what Sara thought was probably a man.
**************
With her work done, the cloaked woman stood just outside the doorway, watching them from the shadows, an outsider once again. She was used to that, to watching, observing, witnessing, never getting deeply involved.
The Wicca had seen scenes like this many times over the years, had witnessed lives saved and lives lost, for she could not save everyone. No matter how much skill she had, no matter how hard she tried.
The small group was huddled over the woman now left lying on the firm surface, her head supported slightly by a rolled up towel. Her unconscious state was no longer the result of the cruel wounds she had been inflicted with, but the result of the healing trance that she had been placed in.
Whether the Chosen One would survive or not rested in her own hands now, and even with Slayer strength and the skills of her healer, her chances were still no better than 50:50. And as said had the healing been started hours, possibly even minutes later, then it would have been too late for her.
It might still be.
The cloaked figure was tempted to turn away once more, to retreat into the shadows, avoiding personal contact yet again, but this time she hesitated. It had been too many years since she had last seen him, and even longer since she had spoken to Xander Harris.
And despite the rumors, despite knowing that he was no longer the boy - the man - he used to be, she felt that she had to speak to him.
She had to see if there was anything of his former self left.
'Hello, Xander.'