A/N: Might I remind everyone that this is sorta AU.
Willow98002: Yup, this is the same one as the first chapter of the Battle Begins. I stopped uploading the other story coz' I was receiving more review here!! And as for the timeline...AU. :-)
Lynsi
Stormvind
Chapter Three: Slayer
"Wake up, 452."
Max's eyes snapped open at the given order, and the moment she did so, pain scorched the backs of her eyelids. Her head felt unpleasantly sore, and so did the rest of her body. Powerful sedatives must've been injected into her systems to make her feel so damned weak. And even with the heavy narcotics that was drugged into her, she was chained to the wall as well. Apparently, they weren't taking any chances.
Steel-gray eyes stared down from above her, and the leering face of Ames White stared into her face. He was no longer dressed in his usual expensive business suits, but was clad in wine-red robes that covered both his hands and feet. "Feeling fashionable, White?" Max asked in disdain, trying to ignore the way her vision would blur every now and then.
White missed the sarcasm. "No."
"Where am I?" she asked, surveying her surroundings for the first time. Judging from the junk-filled metal shelves that lined the far side of the room, they were in some kind of basement. But the small circular chasm in the center of the room argued to this observation. The ground rose up from around it, giving it a wall-like impression. Max squinted, trying to get a better view of it. It was then that she saw that there was a rounded silver- plated disc that lay within the chasm. Strange images were emblazoned on the surface, and so far, she understood none of it.
"You're in hell, 452." White said, smiling cynically.
Max raised an eyebrow. "I guess I missed all the fire shows, huh?"
And again, he missed the sarcasm. Maybe this was hell. White stood up and paced steadily in front of her. It only added to the dizziness she was already feeling. "Hell is where you belong, Max." he sneered. "You were built to be an assassin – a killer."
Max winced, and to her condescension, White grinned in satisfaction. "Guilty, aren't we?" he asked in a mocking voice.
Max shot the Familiar a nasty look. "I didn't choose to be what I am," she said, unwaveringly. "And you are, for a fact, right about what you said. I am a killer. And the minute I'm out of these chains, you're as good as dead."
White laughed, a mirthless laugh that sent chills running down her spine. His eyes flashed silver as he stared down heatedly into her gaze. She met it unblinkingly. "But that's where you're wrong, 452." He hissed. "You're not getting out of those chains. Animals were made to be kept within a cage. And you're the one whose going to be as good as dead tonight--"
She wasn't given any more time to think about the alarming information that White had been generous enough to share to her, because the doors to the 'basement' swung open, and screams of outrage filled the room. Two men dressed in black from head to foot was dragging a struggling girl that was shouting at the top of her lungs, letting out an impressive amount of swear words that Max found herself memorizing.
"The prisoner?" White asked, dispatching himself from his current position in front of Max to talk to his two cronies. The girl had stopped thrashing, and was looking around the room in mild interest.
"One of the Slayers," one of the men clarified. Max vaguely wondered what they meant by 'Slayers'.
"Tie her up," White commanded, gesturing lazily towards the empty set of chains across the room, facing Max. The men did as told and they left as quickly as they came. He approached the newcomer, and addressed her in the same way he addressed Max. Incredibly rudely.
"So," White started. "You're the slayer gone bad...this gives the word 'slayer' a whole new meaning."
Buffy sat down in front of the kitchen countertop, studying the Potentials as they ate their dinner, and talked to each other in low voices. Earlier that afternoon, Giles had brought in a few more, and the Summers' home was packed to the brim. Dawn, had gone upstairs to show some of the girls their sleeping quarters, which was either on the floor or on the few couches that Buffy owned.
Most of the Potentials were only sixteen, the same age Buffy was when she was Chosen. And many of them wore the same apprehensive expressions, because they themselves, knew that their death lay just beyond the corner. They weren't trained to fight well, the same way Buffy was taught. They didn't have their own Watcher, like she did when she was young. They didn't even get to stake a vampire yet. And Buffy was getting worried by the minute. With the First Evil on the rise, there was no doubting that they will be fighting the biggest battle of their lives.
And there was a very big chance that they were going to lose.
"Where's Willow?" one of the older Potentials, called Kennedy asked. Buffy allowed herself a small smile. She had the tiniest inkling that there was something going on with the two girls, which was good – sort of. Being in a relationship with someone did not suit well when your going to war. There are tendencies in which one of them would abandon their post to help their loved one. And that would jeopardize everyone's else's safety.
"She's in Los--" She didn't get a chance to finish her sentence because the kitchen/back door slammed open. A panicked-looking Willow raced in. The kitchen fell silent, and everyone's gaze were focused on the witch.
"Buffy," she panted, gripping the edge of the countertop with much force. Kennedy stood up and steadied her. "It's Faith, she's been captured – by the Bringers."
Gasps erupted from the room. But Buffy's eyes narrowed. So that was what Willow was doing in LA. She went to pick up Faith. Her sister Slayer who held the blood of innocents in her hands. Her sister Slayer who almost killed all of them. True, Buffy had not yet, and will never forgive Faith for her undeniable actions. But she was still a slayer. And they needed her in the war.
Willow98002: Yup, this is the same one as the first chapter of the Battle Begins. I stopped uploading the other story coz' I was receiving more review here!! And as for the timeline...AU. :-)
Lynsi
Stormvind
Chapter Three: Slayer
"Wake up, 452."
Max's eyes snapped open at the given order, and the moment she did so, pain scorched the backs of her eyelids. Her head felt unpleasantly sore, and so did the rest of her body. Powerful sedatives must've been injected into her systems to make her feel so damned weak. And even with the heavy narcotics that was drugged into her, she was chained to the wall as well. Apparently, they weren't taking any chances.
Steel-gray eyes stared down from above her, and the leering face of Ames White stared into her face. He was no longer dressed in his usual expensive business suits, but was clad in wine-red robes that covered both his hands and feet. "Feeling fashionable, White?" Max asked in disdain, trying to ignore the way her vision would blur every now and then.
White missed the sarcasm. "No."
"Where am I?" she asked, surveying her surroundings for the first time. Judging from the junk-filled metal shelves that lined the far side of the room, they were in some kind of basement. But the small circular chasm in the center of the room argued to this observation. The ground rose up from around it, giving it a wall-like impression. Max squinted, trying to get a better view of it. It was then that she saw that there was a rounded silver- plated disc that lay within the chasm. Strange images were emblazoned on the surface, and so far, she understood none of it.
"You're in hell, 452." White said, smiling cynically.
Max raised an eyebrow. "I guess I missed all the fire shows, huh?"
And again, he missed the sarcasm. Maybe this was hell. White stood up and paced steadily in front of her. It only added to the dizziness she was already feeling. "Hell is where you belong, Max." he sneered. "You were built to be an assassin – a killer."
Max winced, and to her condescension, White grinned in satisfaction. "Guilty, aren't we?" he asked in a mocking voice.
Max shot the Familiar a nasty look. "I didn't choose to be what I am," she said, unwaveringly. "And you are, for a fact, right about what you said. I am a killer. And the minute I'm out of these chains, you're as good as dead."
White laughed, a mirthless laugh that sent chills running down her spine. His eyes flashed silver as he stared down heatedly into her gaze. She met it unblinkingly. "But that's where you're wrong, 452." He hissed. "You're not getting out of those chains. Animals were made to be kept within a cage. And you're the one whose going to be as good as dead tonight--"
She wasn't given any more time to think about the alarming information that White had been generous enough to share to her, because the doors to the 'basement' swung open, and screams of outrage filled the room. Two men dressed in black from head to foot was dragging a struggling girl that was shouting at the top of her lungs, letting out an impressive amount of swear words that Max found herself memorizing.
"The prisoner?" White asked, dispatching himself from his current position in front of Max to talk to his two cronies. The girl had stopped thrashing, and was looking around the room in mild interest.
"One of the Slayers," one of the men clarified. Max vaguely wondered what they meant by 'Slayers'.
"Tie her up," White commanded, gesturing lazily towards the empty set of chains across the room, facing Max. The men did as told and they left as quickly as they came. He approached the newcomer, and addressed her in the same way he addressed Max. Incredibly rudely.
"So," White started. "You're the slayer gone bad...this gives the word 'slayer' a whole new meaning."
Buffy sat down in front of the kitchen countertop, studying the Potentials as they ate their dinner, and talked to each other in low voices. Earlier that afternoon, Giles had brought in a few more, and the Summers' home was packed to the brim. Dawn, had gone upstairs to show some of the girls their sleeping quarters, which was either on the floor or on the few couches that Buffy owned.
Most of the Potentials were only sixteen, the same age Buffy was when she was Chosen. And many of them wore the same apprehensive expressions, because they themselves, knew that their death lay just beyond the corner. They weren't trained to fight well, the same way Buffy was taught. They didn't have their own Watcher, like she did when she was young. They didn't even get to stake a vampire yet. And Buffy was getting worried by the minute. With the First Evil on the rise, there was no doubting that they will be fighting the biggest battle of their lives.
And there was a very big chance that they were going to lose.
"Where's Willow?" one of the older Potentials, called Kennedy asked. Buffy allowed herself a small smile. She had the tiniest inkling that there was something going on with the two girls, which was good – sort of. Being in a relationship with someone did not suit well when your going to war. There are tendencies in which one of them would abandon their post to help their loved one. And that would jeopardize everyone's else's safety.
"She's in Los--" She didn't get a chance to finish her sentence because the kitchen/back door slammed open. A panicked-looking Willow raced in. The kitchen fell silent, and everyone's gaze were focused on the witch.
"Buffy," she panted, gripping the edge of the countertop with much force. Kennedy stood up and steadied her. "It's Faith, she's been captured – by the Bringers."
Gasps erupted from the room. But Buffy's eyes narrowed. So that was what Willow was doing in LA. She went to pick up Faith. Her sister Slayer who held the blood of innocents in her hands. Her sister Slayer who almost killed all of them. True, Buffy had not yet, and will never forgive Faith for her undeniable actions. But she was still a slayer. And they needed her in the war.