Disclaimer: Dum da dum da dum. Nope, still don't own any of the characters. Sigh. Oh well. Here's the next chapter – from this point on in the Buffy/Blade part of the story, the plot is going to get really interesting. Hope you enjoy.
Deal with the Devil
Sparks shot out of the now-destroyed computer, a hissing noise emanating from it. The once white floors and walls were covered in blood as it leaked from the dying humans. But no noise was in the room. No one could meet the eyes of the vampire pacing back and forth in the room.
He stopped in front of the computer, staring at it momentarily as he realized his plans were destroyed. He kicked the computer, not even flinching at the pain. He turned around, his eyes flashing.
"Why the fuck didn't I know about her," Frost growled dangerously, staring at the vampires avoiding his gaze. "I thought I made it clear that I wanted to know everything about the Daywalker. So where the fuck did the girl come from?"
Silence greeted his answer. You could hear a pin drop, the silence was so strong. No one wanted to answer him – they knew what would happen if they did.
The door slammed open, and the vampires jumped at the noise. Only Frost remained unmoved, merely sliding his gaze towards the door. His eyes narrowed further as he stared.
"Where is he?" the vampire asked, looking around. "Where's Blade?"
Frost stared at him for a minute before leaping forward, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt and slamming him against the wall.
"You're a fuckin' idiot, Quinn," Frost hissed, his fangs barred. "Have you been paying attention at all to what's been happening here? Do you even realize that Blade escaped just a couple minutes ago? And where were you, huh?"
Quinn winced as Frost's nails dug into his throat. "He escaped? How? The plan was…"
Frost laughed, letting go of Quinn suddenly. "Plan? What plan? It's difficult to make a plan when you don't get all of the information."
Frost turned to stare at the others for a moment, watching as they shifted uncomfortably under his gaze. Quinn stared at Frost, his forehead wrinkling in confusion.
"What are you talking about? We had all the info, we had Blade. What happened? And where's Mercury? Isn't she supposed to be watching the girl?"
Frost stiffened at the last words, his eyes ice cold as he turned to Quinn. His face as blank of emotions, though, as he said, "Mercury is dead. Turns out we got a new player. A blonde haired bitch that helped Blade get away."
"She's dead?" Quinn asked incredulously. "How can she be dead? She's one of the best fighters we've got. How could a girl have killed her?"
"I don't know," Frost hissed, his voice tight. "And I still want to know why the fuck I didn't know about her!"
"She's new in the area. Just moved here."
Eyes swiveled towards the doorway, where a man stood. His eyes were almost black in color and were pinched maliciously around the edges. His mouth was set in a firm line, with a small goatee underneath it. A long, jagged scar ran across his forehead, winking wickedly from his balding head.
He wore simple clothes, but he carried himself with an air of supremacy. It did not even seem to faze him that he was standing amidst dangerous creatures.
Frost stepped forward, looking the man up and down. "And who the hell are you?"
The man shrugged. "I have information that you might want. Or need, actually."
Frost nodded skeptically. "Uh-huh. And right after my minions finish tearing you from limb to limb, you can tell me. I'm not in the mood to deal with shit like you, human."
He raised his hand to motion to the others when the man's voice cut him off.
"She's dangerous, Buffy Summers is," he said. "It'll take more than you're expecting to take down the Slayer."
Frost froze at those words, eyes riveting on the man. He stepped forward, his cold eyes boring into the man's. "The Slayer? That's merely a myth, made to scare vampires. The bitch isn't real."
"I assure you, Mr. Frost, that she is indeed real and very much of a nuisance." The man said, his accent clipping his voice. "I have tried many times to rid myself of her but nothing has worked thus far. But maybe now, her time has come."
"I have a wealth of information on the girl that I would be willing to give you, free of charge," the man said, walking slowly around the room, staring at the damage. "And from what I see here, it looks like you need just a little bit of help with her."
"And why are you willing to help me?" Frost asked. "Why should I trust you?"
The man stopped walking, his eyes freezing Frost in his spot. "That girl ruined everything for me. If it wasn't for her, I wouldn't have to resort to dealing with vampires. She destroyed everything I worked for. I want her dead."
"Besides, right now, I'm the only means of information you have. Killing me now would not be in your best interest."
Frost stared at the man, not liking him at all. Every inch of the man screamed of want for power. But for some reason, Frost did not feel the urge to torture and kill him.
"Fine," Frost decided. "You can stick around for a little while, old man. But don't get comfortable. One wrong piece of information and you'll be fuckin' dead."
"I have no worries about my information, Mr. Frost," the man said, a small twisted smirk appearing on his face. "It is very factual."
Frost nodded. "Uh huh. So what do they call you? Or do we just have to stick with human?"
"Quentin Travers," he said. "At your service."