Part Two
AN: Okay, this is going to be a short chapter, for the most part; and act as some sort of segue into a side story.
He couldn't believe it – it had been less than a month since he had gotten Jenny to warn Buffy, albeit privately, about the soul curse and it's restrictions / limitations, and she had still somehow found a way to break the curse and release Angelus. HOW she had done it, though, sickened him in ways that Snake hadn't been since Plastic Flower and what those NVA bastards did to those little girls nearly thirty years before. He had reserved his verbally ass reaming her until later, after she recovered from Giles' and Jenny's, and more importantly, after he had dealt with the undead son of a bitch, but to do that, alone, he'd need a few more party favors than his converted pistols and suppressors ... which brought him to the Sunnydale Armory. With Giles, Buffy, et al back in the Library researching a threat called 'The Judge', he was at the Armory collecting not only a few toys to play around with on his solo raids, but also a few things that might come in useful against larger demons or crowds of demons, which meant explosives.
He'd managed to get by the guard without any real problems, but as he'd gone by the guard had muttered something about 'spec ops assholes' and that had gotten a minor chuckle out of him as he went into the weapons depot without being seen – he'd brought in more than a few bags to load up with, but all of them had to fit within a gym bat that he had brought along with him (he'd had the mojo done to it by Jenny to expand it's carrying space by triple, but it still had it's limits).
Going strictly for economy, yet wanting a sense of variety, he picked up several Claymore mines, a few flashbang grenades, a CAR-15 with a bandoleer of 15 magazines, even a sidearm and holster, but that was the point that he saw it – an AT-4 rocket that just seemed to scream 'steal me'! It took several minutes and more than a few swear words, but it eventually fit into the bag and even tossed in some black BDUs to cover the other things if a nosey MP decided to look into the bag after not believing his cover story of picking up some things out of his locker for the house.
Making his way out of the depot, he kept the calm, cool mask of Alexander over his face as he walked by one MP and then another at a deliberate pace that, while not slow, wasn't running, merely deliberate.
"Hold it, soldier." A voice from the darkened confines of an office barked, bringing him up short, but at attention. Out of said office walked an older man with three up and four down with a diamond in the center, in peanut butters, not to mention a scowl, "Where do you think you are going with that bag, son?"
"Sergeant Major, I'm going home, Sergeant Major. I forgot to grab my wash before I left and figured I could do it now, Sergeant Major." His voice was calm, cool and level, but internally he was praying to everyone above and below him to let his ruse work.
"Any why not let the laundry service get them, son?"
"Sergeant Major, they put too much starch in my pants, not enough in the shirts, and don't get me started on the creases and pleats, Sergeant Major."
The Sergeant Major nodded, "True enough, son. I swear that they can't get mine right at all, so I have my wife do them."
"Permission to leave, Sergeant Major?"
"Granted." He nodded, which was immediately returned by Alexander and they went separate ways, albeit the latter with more relief than the former. (AN: Trust me, there is a method to my madness – this will become clear later on)
The trip back to his car was, thankfully, uneventful and quick, as was the trip back to his condo, where he unpacked and set things out for cleaning, but in the back of his mind he was making a list of other things that he needed to round out what he already had, things that he knew that Willy the Snitch could get him.
He jumped, as deep in thought as he was, when the phone rang, nearly three feet from a sitting position on the floor and then answered, "Yeah?"
"Xander? Buffy. Get to the Library now." The phone clicked dead and he sighed, hating that they had not given him any intel to work off of, so he decided he'd go armed for bear.
"'No weapon forged by man'. Well, that pretty much discounts most of the weapons now used on this planet." Killing The Judge would be harder than anyone thought apparently. "What about explosives? C4, TNT and the like?"
"And who'd we get to set them up and off, Xander? YOU?"
"If needs be, Buffy. Soldier boy isn't exactly gone from up here," he tapped his skull, downplaying just how much was really there. "He was an expert in demolitions and munitions, so I COULD rig up something to blow the Judge to hell, but why not think bigger?"
"Bigger?" Giles took off his glasses and polished them while everyone looked at him, "How much bigger are we talking about, Xander?"
"LAAW rocket launchers, AT-4's, Claymore mines, hell, even a fifty caliber Ma Deuce if we could find one, but anything to keep him and Angelus from getting close." LAAW rockets wouldn't pack the punch, of course, and even if they could grab a Ma Deuce, transporting it would be a bitch.
"I don't like guns, Xander."
"Well, Buff, you don't exactly have a whole lot of options left, now, do you." He snapped at her, his patience wearing thin, "We're in a situation that you are at least partially to blame for, against a time restraint that is getting to be a pain in the ass and low on resources, so tell me what your great and powerful plan is and we'll get to it rather than you sitting there and bitching about what you do and don't like." Everyone stared at him in shock as Buffy worked her mouth once, and then twice, but nothing came out, "I'm waiting for your plan, bottle blonde – what is it?"
"Can you get us anything like that, Xander?" Jenny leaned forwards, "Do you know of a way to get any of those items you listed?"
"Some, yeah, I already have them, but in all reality this is going to get very messy before it gets better, so we'll need some help." He looked over at Giles, who was still polishing his lenses, "Any chance of getting Kendra over here?" He rather liked the café au late Slayer, and her potential to be a good friend if she ever opened up.
"Yes, I suppose there is," Giles mumbled absently. "How did you manage to come by these weapons, Xander?"
"I stole them from the Sunnydale Armory, and before any of you start to get on my case, the place isn't exactly Fort Knox, and I was stashing the stuff away for a rainy day ... and apparently the storm clouds are drawing near." He got up from the table and began to pace within the stacks, much like a caged animal would, furiously trying to work through his mind about what to do about The Judge.
"You were rather harsh on her, Xander," Jenny told him when she joined him in the stacks about five minutes after leaving the group. "She's emotionally stressed."
"It comes with the territory, Jenny, and I said nothing that was incorrect – she is to blame, to some extent, for the current situation, we're low on time and resources, and nobody else seems to be thinking up plans that have a possibility of working without having an all-out war stated in the streets."
"Tearing Buffy's head off isn't going to change that, Xander."
He laughed humorlessly, "Trust me, Jenny, if I wanted her dead, she'd be a corpse right now and there's nobody in this library that could stop me. She needs to get her head into the situation, NOW, and off of trying to get her favorite undead fuck toy back." (AN: I want to get my Buffy bashing out of the way now, so please, bear with me)
"That was unkind, Alexander," Jenny said somewhat frostily.
"But true none the less – the SECOND you told her about that soul spell, that you could perform it, she wanted you to do it without hesitation. That alone isn't what is chapping my ass, Jenny – she isn't even the slightest bit SORRY for what she's done, or what her actions and inactions have lead to."
"Be that as it may, Xander, she IS your friend, so at least try and act in a civil manner."
He sighed somewhat petulantly, "Alright, but I'm gone. I have some things to pick up and more than a few plans to plan just in case that we do run across the Judge." He gave her a tired smile and left out of the back door of the Library, his mind going in circles on how to possibly take down the Judge.
That same through went in circles through his mind for the next two days; even with Kendra's presence in the fight, as she had shown up the day after their initial meeting about the Judge, it would be a tight go-round with Angelus and the Judge. He'd made a run back to the Armory and snagged a few boxes of SS-109 rounds, not to mention as many boxes of Tracer rounds as he could find, but had also snagged a M-203 40mm grenade launcher, several boxes of grenades for said launcher and Rail Interface System to mate it to the CAR-15 on the way out. It did, however, vaguely disturb him how easily he'd pulled off the heist, but opted to not question the good fortune that the Fates had bestowed upon him.
When the call came for him to get together with the others, though, all feelings outside of resolve vanished as he grabbed the kit he had prepared, knowing in his gut that the next few hours would be bad ones.
"NO WEAPON FORGED BY MAN CAN DEFEAT ME, MORTALS." The Judge had to raise his voice over the chatter of his CAR-15 and occasional 40mm grenade explosions that echoed throughout the entire Sunnydale Mall and Food Court – add to that the screams of the fleeing populace, Jenny's chanting, Buffy's yelling at the vampires that Angelus had brought with him, Drusilla's ravings about how her 'Kitten', whoever the hell that was, had grown sharp claws, and the echoes of it all, it was deemed necessary that the demon raise his voice to be heard.
"FUCK YOU AND THE HORSE YOUR RODE IN ON," came from one of the fleeing Sunnydalians, whom was then struck down by a bolt of lightning that the Judge had called down from empty air, killing the man who looked oddly enough like Ash Williams from the Evil Dead series (AN: Bruce Campbell is often used to be the father / uncle template of Xander's dad, but not here – sorry).
Emptying the last of his prepared magazines into the chest of the Judge, having, he saw, little effect, if any, Xander dropped back in time to see both Kendra and Buffy dust the last of the miscellaneous vampires, leaving Spike, Drusilla, Angelus and the Judge alone on the podium, "Well, Shit."
"Such pitiful resistance, yet such a noble stand," the Judge mused even as he raised his hand. "It's a shame, really." That said, he fired off a lightning bolt that struck Kendra dead center in her chest, flinging her back into a pillar until gravity took over and allowed her to slump motionless to the floor.
"BUFFY!" He hurled the duffle bag he'd stored the AT-4 rocket in at her and rushed to Kendra's side, "It's idiot-proof ... just follow the directions and shoot the son of a bitch!" (AN: Okay, maybe one parting shot at Buffy...)
Even as he slid to a stop in front of the café au late Slayer, he could tell that she wasn't breathing, but it didn't matter – he considered her a friend and refused to lose another friend to the darkness, so he began by laying her down and performing some simple mouth-to-mouth before starting chest compressions. He was, however, aware enough of the situation going on behind him to hear Buffy state 'That was then, this is now' and shoot the AT-4 at the Judge, but mostly kept his mind on Kendra and her resuscitation.
Even as the explosion rung within the deepest portions of his mind, he carried on, keenly aware that Jenny had shown up and had taken over the breathing portion (which would oddly disappoint him when he had time to think about it) of the resuscitation; they went through the cycle of compressions, breathing and checking for a pulse for nearly ten minutes before he found said pulse – it was weak and thready, but it was there and growing stronger with each pulse, "We've got a pulse."
"Thank the Goddess," Jenny murmured even as Buffy came back, stake in hand, from where she had followed Angelus and both his Childe and Grandchilde. "Where is Angelus?"
"Gone – left."
"You mean you let him go." Giles' voice was like ice even as he approached Kendra. "I saw the entire altercation, Buffy – why did you not stake him when he gave you the chance?"
"I ... I couldn't, Giles. He's Angel."
"Angelus," Alexander heard himself correcting / snapping at her even as he checked Kendra's vitals again. Once satisfied with them, he stood and pulled the suppressed .22 from behind his back, leveling it at Buffy, "Give me a reason not to shoot you, Buffy."
"I ... I'm your friend?"
"Who just got another Slayer seriously injured and brought back to life, who just let a Master Vampire and his children go because she can't get her head out of her ass about who he really is, and who is about ten seconds away from getting a double tap through the skull to avoid giving me any more FUCKING migraines." He no longer cared about who his friends were – he wanted it all to be over so they could all get a breather, so he cocked the hammer, "If anyone else here dies because of you, you die by MY hand before their bodies are cold."
Side Story 1
"Clark." He'd already had a bad day, hell a bad week, and the recently ringing phone in his hand was probably gong to make it worse. He'd been taken off of full-time field ops a month before to recover from a nasty gut shot on his last op, so, albeit temporarily, John Clark, a legend within the CIA, was a 'Suit'.
"This is Sergeant Major Bill Day out at Sunnydale Munitions Depot – I'd like to report a theft of ordinance by some young punk who reminds me of another young punk of a SEAL I met over in the shit in 'Nam nearly thirty years ago."
John first smiled at the name and then winced as the memory of just who the guy was hit him, "And you're calling me why? Isn't Army CID and JAG supposed to take care of this stuff, Sergeant Major?"
"I'm sending you his picture from the surveillance tapes, Mr. Clark – tell me if you recognize him." As if on cue, his printer stirred to life and spat out a picture of a relatively young man, no ... a teenager, who's face struck a cord in John's mind, "Look familiar, sir?"
"Yeah, that's the guy who's been seen firing off that CAR-15 at night in Sunnydale over the past few nights, and yes, he DOES look familiar for some reason. Name?"
"According to the computers, he is Harris, Alexander L., Junior at Sunnydale High School and active in the hunting of all things demonic, according to the locals hostile populace. I thought you might want to be apprised of the situation, sir, and that the theft is being cooked to look like a bad count."
"Thanks, Bill. Oh, and you still owe me thirty bucks for that last round in Seoul on R&R." John heard a chuckle at the other end of the line as he hung up the phone, thinking back to that night not too long ago when he'd lost several hours of time while ... resting ... with his wife, whom had not been too appreciative of his few hours of inattention. Vampires, Demons and the like were all real, and it had all be revealed to him by a kid, Alexander Harris, who'd been unlucky enough to snag his old BDUs from BOXWOOD GREEN at a second hand store.
Sighing, he hit the intercom button to his secretary, yet another sign that he was becoming a 'Suit', "Janice, get me Mary Pat over at The Farm ... she and I need to meet." He needed to have a sit-down with the kid, at least, and figure out just what he was going to do with the kid ... and see just how much he knew.
Alright, here's part 2 and a side story – R&R, please.
AN: Okay, this is going to be a short chapter, for the most part; and act as some sort of segue into a side story.
He couldn't believe it – it had been less than a month since he had gotten Jenny to warn Buffy, albeit privately, about the soul curse and it's restrictions / limitations, and she had still somehow found a way to break the curse and release Angelus. HOW she had done it, though, sickened him in ways that Snake hadn't been since Plastic Flower and what those NVA bastards did to those little girls nearly thirty years before. He had reserved his verbally ass reaming her until later, after she recovered from Giles' and Jenny's, and more importantly, after he had dealt with the undead son of a bitch, but to do that, alone, he'd need a few more party favors than his converted pistols and suppressors ... which brought him to the Sunnydale Armory. With Giles, Buffy, et al back in the Library researching a threat called 'The Judge', he was at the Armory collecting not only a few toys to play around with on his solo raids, but also a few things that might come in useful against larger demons or crowds of demons, which meant explosives.
He'd managed to get by the guard without any real problems, but as he'd gone by the guard had muttered something about 'spec ops assholes' and that had gotten a minor chuckle out of him as he went into the weapons depot without being seen – he'd brought in more than a few bags to load up with, but all of them had to fit within a gym bat that he had brought along with him (he'd had the mojo done to it by Jenny to expand it's carrying space by triple, but it still had it's limits).
Going strictly for economy, yet wanting a sense of variety, he picked up several Claymore mines, a few flashbang grenades, a CAR-15 with a bandoleer of 15 magazines, even a sidearm and holster, but that was the point that he saw it – an AT-4 rocket that just seemed to scream 'steal me'! It took several minutes and more than a few swear words, but it eventually fit into the bag and even tossed in some black BDUs to cover the other things if a nosey MP decided to look into the bag after not believing his cover story of picking up some things out of his locker for the house.
Making his way out of the depot, he kept the calm, cool mask of Alexander over his face as he walked by one MP and then another at a deliberate pace that, while not slow, wasn't running, merely deliberate.
"Hold it, soldier." A voice from the darkened confines of an office barked, bringing him up short, but at attention. Out of said office walked an older man with three up and four down with a diamond in the center, in peanut butters, not to mention a scowl, "Where do you think you are going with that bag, son?"
"Sergeant Major, I'm going home, Sergeant Major. I forgot to grab my wash before I left and figured I could do it now, Sergeant Major." His voice was calm, cool and level, but internally he was praying to everyone above and below him to let his ruse work.
"Any why not let the laundry service get them, son?"
"Sergeant Major, they put too much starch in my pants, not enough in the shirts, and don't get me started on the creases and pleats, Sergeant Major."
The Sergeant Major nodded, "True enough, son. I swear that they can't get mine right at all, so I have my wife do them."
"Permission to leave, Sergeant Major?"
"Granted." He nodded, which was immediately returned by Alexander and they went separate ways, albeit the latter with more relief than the former. (AN: Trust me, there is a method to my madness – this will become clear later on)
The trip back to his car was, thankfully, uneventful and quick, as was the trip back to his condo, where he unpacked and set things out for cleaning, but in the back of his mind he was making a list of other things that he needed to round out what he already had, things that he knew that Willy the Snitch could get him.
He jumped, as deep in thought as he was, when the phone rang, nearly three feet from a sitting position on the floor and then answered, "Yeah?"
"Xander? Buffy. Get to the Library now." The phone clicked dead and he sighed, hating that they had not given him any intel to work off of, so he decided he'd go armed for bear.
"'No weapon forged by man'. Well, that pretty much discounts most of the weapons now used on this planet." Killing The Judge would be harder than anyone thought apparently. "What about explosives? C4, TNT and the like?"
"And who'd we get to set them up and off, Xander? YOU?"
"If needs be, Buffy. Soldier boy isn't exactly gone from up here," he tapped his skull, downplaying just how much was really there. "He was an expert in demolitions and munitions, so I COULD rig up something to blow the Judge to hell, but why not think bigger?"
"Bigger?" Giles took off his glasses and polished them while everyone looked at him, "How much bigger are we talking about, Xander?"
"LAAW rocket launchers, AT-4's, Claymore mines, hell, even a fifty caliber Ma Deuce if we could find one, but anything to keep him and Angelus from getting close." LAAW rockets wouldn't pack the punch, of course, and even if they could grab a Ma Deuce, transporting it would be a bitch.
"I don't like guns, Xander."
"Well, Buff, you don't exactly have a whole lot of options left, now, do you." He snapped at her, his patience wearing thin, "We're in a situation that you are at least partially to blame for, against a time restraint that is getting to be a pain in the ass and low on resources, so tell me what your great and powerful plan is and we'll get to it rather than you sitting there and bitching about what you do and don't like." Everyone stared at him in shock as Buffy worked her mouth once, and then twice, but nothing came out, "I'm waiting for your plan, bottle blonde – what is it?"
"Can you get us anything like that, Xander?" Jenny leaned forwards, "Do you know of a way to get any of those items you listed?"
"Some, yeah, I already have them, but in all reality this is going to get very messy before it gets better, so we'll need some help." He looked over at Giles, who was still polishing his lenses, "Any chance of getting Kendra over here?" He rather liked the café au late Slayer, and her potential to be a good friend if she ever opened up.
"Yes, I suppose there is," Giles mumbled absently. "How did you manage to come by these weapons, Xander?"
"I stole them from the Sunnydale Armory, and before any of you start to get on my case, the place isn't exactly Fort Knox, and I was stashing the stuff away for a rainy day ... and apparently the storm clouds are drawing near." He got up from the table and began to pace within the stacks, much like a caged animal would, furiously trying to work through his mind about what to do about The Judge.
"You were rather harsh on her, Xander," Jenny told him when she joined him in the stacks about five minutes after leaving the group. "She's emotionally stressed."
"It comes with the territory, Jenny, and I said nothing that was incorrect – she is to blame, to some extent, for the current situation, we're low on time and resources, and nobody else seems to be thinking up plans that have a possibility of working without having an all-out war stated in the streets."
"Tearing Buffy's head off isn't going to change that, Xander."
He laughed humorlessly, "Trust me, Jenny, if I wanted her dead, she'd be a corpse right now and there's nobody in this library that could stop me. She needs to get her head into the situation, NOW, and off of trying to get her favorite undead fuck toy back." (AN: I want to get my Buffy bashing out of the way now, so please, bear with me)
"That was unkind, Alexander," Jenny said somewhat frostily.
"But true none the less – the SECOND you told her about that soul spell, that you could perform it, she wanted you to do it without hesitation. That alone isn't what is chapping my ass, Jenny – she isn't even the slightest bit SORRY for what she's done, or what her actions and inactions have lead to."
"Be that as it may, Xander, she IS your friend, so at least try and act in a civil manner."
He sighed somewhat petulantly, "Alright, but I'm gone. I have some things to pick up and more than a few plans to plan just in case that we do run across the Judge." He gave her a tired smile and left out of the back door of the Library, his mind going in circles on how to possibly take down the Judge.
That same through went in circles through his mind for the next two days; even with Kendra's presence in the fight, as she had shown up the day after their initial meeting about the Judge, it would be a tight go-round with Angelus and the Judge. He'd made a run back to the Armory and snagged a few boxes of SS-109 rounds, not to mention as many boxes of Tracer rounds as he could find, but had also snagged a M-203 40mm grenade launcher, several boxes of grenades for said launcher and Rail Interface System to mate it to the CAR-15 on the way out. It did, however, vaguely disturb him how easily he'd pulled off the heist, but opted to not question the good fortune that the Fates had bestowed upon him.
When the call came for him to get together with the others, though, all feelings outside of resolve vanished as he grabbed the kit he had prepared, knowing in his gut that the next few hours would be bad ones.
"NO WEAPON FORGED BY MAN CAN DEFEAT ME, MORTALS." The Judge had to raise his voice over the chatter of his CAR-15 and occasional 40mm grenade explosions that echoed throughout the entire Sunnydale Mall and Food Court – add to that the screams of the fleeing populace, Jenny's chanting, Buffy's yelling at the vampires that Angelus had brought with him, Drusilla's ravings about how her 'Kitten', whoever the hell that was, had grown sharp claws, and the echoes of it all, it was deemed necessary that the demon raise his voice to be heard.
"FUCK YOU AND THE HORSE YOUR RODE IN ON," came from one of the fleeing Sunnydalians, whom was then struck down by a bolt of lightning that the Judge had called down from empty air, killing the man who looked oddly enough like Ash Williams from the Evil Dead series (AN: Bruce Campbell is often used to be the father / uncle template of Xander's dad, but not here – sorry).
Emptying the last of his prepared magazines into the chest of the Judge, having, he saw, little effect, if any, Xander dropped back in time to see both Kendra and Buffy dust the last of the miscellaneous vampires, leaving Spike, Drusilla, Angelus and the Judge alone on the podium, "Well, Shit."
"Such pitiful resistance, yet such a noble stand," the Judge mused even as he raised his hand. "It's a shame, really." That said, he fired off a lightning bolt that struck Kendra dead center in her chest, flinging her back into a pillar until gravity took over and allowed her to slump motionless to the floor.
"BUFFY!" He hurled the duffle bag he'd stored the AT-4 rocket in at her and rushed to Kendra's side, "It's idiot-proof ... just follow the directions and shoot the son of a bitch!" (AN: Okay, maybe one parting shot at Buffy...)
Even as he slid to a stop in front of the café au late Slayer, he could tell that she wasn't breathing, but it didn't matter – he considered her a friend and refused to lose another friend to the darkness, so he began by laying her down and performing some simple mouth-to-mouth before starting chest compressions. He was, however, aware enough of the situation going on behind him to hear Buffy state 'That was then, this is now' and shoot the AT-4 at the Judge, but mostly kept his mind on Kendra and her resuscitation.
Even as the explosion rung within the deepest portions of his mind, he carried on, keenly aware that Jenny had shown up and had taken over the breathing portion (which would oddly disappoint him when he had time to think about it) of the resuscitation; they went through the cycle of compressions, breathing and checking for a pulse for nearly ten minutes before he found said pulse – it was weak and thready, but it was there and growing stronger with each pulse, "We've got a pulse."
"Thank the Goddess," Jenny murmured even as Buffy came back, stake in hand, from where she had followed Angelus and both his Childe and Grandchilde. "Where is Angelus?"
"Gone – left."
"You mean you let him go." Giles' voice was like ice even as he approached Kendra. "I saw the entire altercation, Buffy – why did you not stake him when he gave you the chance?"
"I ... I couldn't, Giles. He's Angel."
"Angelus," Alexander heard himself correcting / snapping at her even as he checked Kendra's vitals again. Once satisfied with them, he stood and pulled the suppressed .22 from behind his back, leveling it at Buffy, "Give me a reason not to shoot you, Buffy."
"I ... I'm your friend?"
"Who just got another Slayer seriously injured and brought back to life, who just let a Master Vampire and his children go because she can't get her head out of her ass about who he really is, and who is about ten seconds away from getting a double tap through the skull to avoid giving me any more FUCKING migraines." He no longer cared about who his friends were – he wanted it all to be over so they could all get a breather, so he cocked the hammer, "If anyone else here dies because of you, you die by MY hand before their bodies are cold."
Side Story 1
"Clark." He'd already had a bad day, hell a bad week, and the recently ringing phone in his hand was probably gong to make it worse. He'd been taken off of full-time field ops a month before to recover from a nasty gut shot on his last op, so, albeit temporarily, John Clark, a legend within the CIA, was a 'Suit'.
"This is Sergeant Major Bill Day out at Sunnydale Munitions Depot – I'd like to report a theft of ordinance by some young punk who reminds me of another young punk of a SEAL I met over in the shit in 'Nam nearly thirty years ago."
John first smiled at the name and then winced as the memory of just who the guy was hit him, "And you're calling me why? Isn't Army CID and JAG supposed to take care of this stuff, Sergeant Major?"
"I'm sending you his picture from the surveillance tapes, Mr. Clark – tell me if you recognize him." As if on cue, his printer stirred to life and spat out a picture of a relatively young man, no ... a teenager, who's face struck a cord in John's mind, "Look familiar, sir?"
"Yeah, that's the guy who's been seen firing off that CAR-15 at night in Sunnydale over the past few nights, and yes, he DOES look familiar for some reason. Name?"
"According to the computers, he is Harris, Alexander L., Junior at Sunnydale High School and active in the hunting of all things demonic, according to the locals hostile populace. I thought you might want to be apprised of the situation, sir, and that the theft is being cooked to look like a bad count."
"Thanks, Bill. Oh, and you still owe me thirty bucks for that last round in Seoul on R&R." John heard a chuckle at the other end of the line as he hung up the phone, thinking back to that night not too long ago when he'd lost several hours of time while ... resting ... with his wife, whom had not been too appreciative of his few hours of inattention. Vampires, Demons and the like were all real, and it had all be revealed to him by a kid, Alexander Harris, who'd been unlucky enough to snag his old BDUs from BOXWOOD GREEN at a second hand store.
Sighing, he hit the intercom button to his secretary, yet another sign that he was becoming a 'Suit', "Janice, get me Mary Pat over at The Farm ... she and I need to meet." He needed to have a sit-down with the kid, at least, and figure out just what he was going to do with the kid ... and see just how much he knew.
Alright, here's part 2 and a side story – R&R, please.