FIC: Cleveland Calling (12?)
Angel watched from the doorway as Faith pummelled one of the gym's heavy bags with a blinding flurry of punches, chops, knees, head butts, and kicks. "Has that bag offended in you in some way?" he queried. "Because I'm pretty sure it's sorry."
Faith stopped her workout and sprang back from the still swinging bag. After wiping away the sweat cascading down her forehead with the back of her hand, his protégée spoke. "Gotta get in shape if I'm gonna face Gellert." Faith scowled. "And I am gonna finish him."
Angel strode further into the basement before sitting on a near-by bench. "What is he like?"
Faith's eyes shadowed. "He's one scary fucker, Angel. Kaktosis, Caleb, fuck even the Beast, weren't shit next to him." The beautiful young woman shuddered. "Next to him, the other guys I've faced were just a walk in the park." The brunette shook her head. "But I am gonna kill him."
Angel was more than a little disturbed by the intense rage in his friend's eyes. London had been burnt to the ground by fires colder than them. "Faith, about your trip, you've recovered?"
After a second, the Slayer nodded. "Yeah, Xand got me out before it got bad." The Bostonian Slayer shook her head. "It was worse before, when I was in the room with just him and his two head goons. I thought," Faith licked her lips. "I thought the fucker was gonna turn me. And he would have 'cept turning a Slayer takes time-."
"He said that?" Angel interrupted.
"Yeah," Faith nodded. "I didn't get it all on being kinda outta it at the time, but his choices were kill me, but that would have been too quick," the east coast temptress shuddered, "turn me, but there's some ceremony that would have given your bloodhound nose time to track me, or use the Nightmare."
"But you're alright?"
"Yeah," Faith's answering smile had a stretched quality to it, "five by five."
"I think it's time we taught the Croc Dal who runs this city," Xander declared with a look around the briefing room.
"Damn straight," Faith confirmed with a nod, her agreement met with nods from the others packed into the conference room.
Angel didn't add his agreement immediately. While he was as angry as anyone, and angrier than most, in the room at what Faith had undergone at Gellert's hands, he knew that a vampire order, even one as powerful as Gellert's, were nothing compared to Wolfram & Hart. But Gellert had hurt a member of his family. "What do you have in mind?" he queried, his tone held carefully neutral to indicate neither disapproval nor approval.
Xander glanced down at the papers before him. "Andrew," the young Watcher nodded towards the housekeeper has been helping Will build up a picture of Gellert's empire-."
"A picture?" Angel queried.
"A financial record," Angel resisted the rampant temptation to roll his eyes at Andrew's tone. Great, lectured by a simpleton. Telling himself it was part of his penance, he forced himself to listen. "It occurred to me that even vampires needed financial records if they own businesses. And if there's a paper trail," the housekeeper's face grew animated, "I might be able to track down all the other businesses owned by the Croc Dal."
Angel blinked. That was actually pretty smart. Maybe Andrew wasn't the complete idiot he had originally thought.
"What ya find Andy?"
"Uh," Andrew blinked at Faith's question before shuffling through the papers on the desk. "I tracked the den's owners to a realtors in New Mexico. But that was just a front for a holding company in the Bahamas, which in turn was owned by another dummy corp in Lichtenstein, which was owned by an accountancy firm – Waterhouse Franklin-."
Something clicked in Angel's head. "They're a subsidiary owned by Wolfram & Hart," Angel put in. "If they discovered -."
"They didn't," Andrew smirked, "as soon as I attempted to hack their computers I noticed their magic sigils and pulled out. They were way too powerful for me so I called in Willow. She got us in and we discovered that the Orpheus den belonged to a group of businesses called Crimson Red Enterprises."
"What did this Crimson Red Enterprises own?" queried Connor.
"Ah, a good question." Angel rolled his eyes at the boy's self-important tone. "You have clearly inherited your esteemed father's strategic mastery."
"Huh." Every one turned towards Xander at his snort. The Watcher smiled and shook his head. "Sorry, carry on."
After a nervous glance between the two of them, Andrew continued. "There are a total of 25 other businesses in Ohio and the surrounding states. Including a remaining four in this very state. They are," the housekeeper looked towards Faith, "another Orpheus den. The Brawl Hall – a demonic UFC. Mage's Supply – a shop supplying all the illicit goods that a legitimate occultist wouldn't touch. They even have-," the youth's face paled at Xander's glare. "And," the teen reddened, "Devil's Pleasure, a demonic brothel."
"Demonic brothel? We had one of those in LA.," Angel commented.
"Dirty bastard."
Angel grimaced at Dana's mutter and others' collective stares. "It wasn't like that-."
"I bet."
This time he ignored the suspicious Slayer. "A client of ours was being blackmailed about his patronage of the place," seeing the others' less than convinced looks, he changed the subject. "This is all very interesting but what are we going to actually do."
Inevitably it was Xander who answered. "Tonight we're going to split into two groups. You, Connor, Dana, Bree, and Penda, and me, Faith, and the other Slayers. We're going to hit all of four of Gellert's local businesses." Xander smirked. "Obviously you're going to hit the brothel seeing as it's your area of expertise."
Angel scowled at the sniggers that followed Harris' comments. That was Harris alright, always the joker.
Xander smiled at the delicious smell of his bacon and egg sandwich, a guilty pleasure picked up in England. For a long, lip-slavering second he stared at the 'butty' as the English called it, savouring the trio of long, charcoaled rashers led across a liquidly egg. Then he snatched up the mustard and ketchup and soaked them over the bacon. After a beam at the condiment-lathered delight before him, he forked the sausage sizzling in the near-by pan, picked up the half slice of fried bread, and squashed both onto the top of the sandwich. Humming cheerfully, he picked up a second slice of thick white bread and stuck it on top.
"You're disgusting you know?"
Xander turned at the slightly awed voice. He nodded at the slight figure in the doorway before turning back to his eagerly anticipated sandwich. "Hey Connor," he picked up his plate, "I've finished up if you want to use the kitchen."
"No, I wanted to talk to you about my dad."
Great. His appetite suddenly evaporated, he put his plate back down. Whenever he had an argument with a super-powered being about Deadboy, he always ended up with bruises. He glanced at Connor. At least the kid didn't know him well enough to inflict emotional ones. So, just the physical beating. "Oh goody," he muttered before forcing a smile. "Look, Connor."
"Is it because of this Buffy?" pressed Connor.
Okay, Xander sighed, this was not going to be pretty. "Partially but not quite in the way you think. I was jealous that he got the girl." Xander admitted. "But it wasn't just that. Not even close. I was always got the idea that Angel was only there for Buff. If Buffy died, he'd be off, leaving the rest of us to it." For him it had been different. That first year, before Cordelia, he'd loved Buffy sure, but more than that the world she'd introduced him to had given a purpose to his otherwise directionless life.
"He's changed," Connor defended. "He cares about people. Fred, Gunn, Cordy, Wes-."
"They're all dead."
Xander instantly regretted his bluntness. Pain flickered across the younger man's face. "Faith isn't. She's not dead. And the summer Angel was missing, his friends took of his snot-nosed kid because they believed in Angel."
"I'm open-minded."
"Are you?" Connor raised a clearly sceptical eyebrow. "My memory's Swiss-cheesed but I remember he cared about me when caring about me wasn't the easy option. It would make it a lot easier for everyone if you just tried."
"But Angelus-."
The teen's face sobered. "I know how evil he is," the hybrid interrupted. "And I'll stand by you if it comes to that. Just give Angel a chance."
Xander stared at the younger man for a moment, judging his sincerity, before holding out his hand. "Deal."
"Are you okay, Faith?"
"Fine, Xan," Faith gritted her teeth, her polite tone forced as she continued to ready her weapons for the night's mission. This was like the fourth person to ask her in the past half-hour, she wasn't a freaking baby.
"Are you sure?" Xander stepped into her room, a concerned look on his face. "Only I came to give you a chance to back out if you want. I'd tell the others you need some more ti-."
"I SAID I'M ALRIGHT!" Faith exploded. Her heart dropped at Harris' sudden paling and quick backstep to the door. "I'm sorry. I'm just wicked eager to get some payback, kick some demon ass. Get back in the saddle, you know?"
"Right, sure," her Watcher nodded even as he backed out of the room. "I'll be downstairs with the others. No hurry. Whenever you're ready."
"Xan!" Faith's soft whisper bounced against the door the man had hurriedly closed behind him. "Damn him!" Faith cursed as she punched the wall. She thought after his walk through her past, Xan would get her more. Yeah, she had a wicked nasty temper, but she would never hurt X or the others. They were family, the only one she'd ever had.
"Are you al-, ready?"
Faith winced at her Watcher's verbal stumble. The words were the first he'd spoken to her since they'd left the house. She glanced across the darkened alley snaking up to the noisy club. The Sunnydale native was partially hidden in the shadows, but even so she could see the tautness in his face. "Look X," she said. "I get that you care. I dig it, I really do. It's just," Faith swallowed at the unpleasant memories, "back in Boston when a guy asked me if I was okay, he was looking for an angle, a way to get me on my back. You couldn't look weak." Faith looked down at her feet. "I know you ain't like that, but sometimes -."
"Old habits are hard to break?"
"Yeah," Faith nodded. "You caring's a big deal to me."
"Although you make it hard," Xander sighed theatrically. "Slayers – pains in the ass, every one."
Faith half-grinned. "What about Watchers? Does the job come with a stick up the ass? And ya got your tweed PJs yet?"
"G-Man's having them flown over next week." Xander looked towards the drugs den. Even at a distance the heavy rock blaring out was deafening. "Let's go."
Faith swallowed as she looked towards the shabby building. "Sure." She pulled Xander's arm over her shoulder and was surprised by the comfort she gained from it. "Decoy time."
Her fear increased as they neared the building, only her Watcher's closeness and her own iron will preventing her from bolting. "Hey man!" Xander belched as he peered up at the two muscled giants stood tending door outside the club. "Clear the way!" her Watcher giggled drunkenly. "We're here to P-A-R-T-Y!"
"Sorry man," one of the bouncers, a towering, goateed biker stepped into their path. "This place ain't for the likes of you."
"But you," the other thug, a thickly-built Oriental leered at her. "You'll fit right in, babe."
Faith raised an eyebrow. "That sounded like an insult. X?"
"I agree," her Watcher nodded.
"That case." Faith kicked the Oriental full in the groin, doubling him up. Grabbing the man's swinging pony-tail; she propelled him into the side of the club, the back of his head smashing into the wall. "I better stake him." Before the man had chance to recover, she drew and powered her stake home.
Heart still thumping with the thrill of battle, she spun around to see how her companion was doing. Her mouth dried at the sight that greeted her. "Man, that is so hot," she breathed.
X was bobbing and weaving around the looming demon, ducking and slipping inside its wild haymakers, blocking other blows on his arms and shoulders. At the same time, Xander replied with a devastating flurry of hooks, crosses, and uppercuts to the monster's face and body. He had the demon totally and utterly out-classed.
Except, she could sense the demon's age and the vampire's far superior endurance, speed, and strength would inevitably see him to victory regardless of her bud's skill. Even worse, he'd never get the chance to pull out his stake. Stepping forward, she reached up, grabbed a hold of the demon's filthy collar and yanked it backwards, onto her stake. Faith grinned through the demon's dust. "Pretty smooth, X," she realised she'd never seen X use his boxing skills in a real fight before. Faith glanced towards the club. "Ya reckon anyone heard anything?"
"Over that racket?" X shook his head. "Not a chance."
"Yeah, that's what I figured." Faith nodded before reaching into her jacket, withdrawing her cell, and texting the others. Once she'd got a confirmatory text, she looked towards her Watcher. "Shall we?" A stern look on his face, Harris nodded. "Wicked." Faith stepped towards the bar. Her heel smashed into the door ripping it off its hinges and propelling it into the darkened room beyond. "Yo!" Faith yanked the wires out of the jukebox by the door, killing the sound, before smiling at the shocked bar. "We're the vermin police. I understand ya got an infestation?"
And then the bar exploded into violence.
"Ouch! Oww!"
"Damn Harris," Faith sauntered into the dimly lit bathroom. "You're an ever-living fool ain't ya?"
"I was trying," the man winced as he tried to clean the cut on his forehead, "to help you."
"And how does ya headbutting a beer bottle help me?" Faith asked.
"I was trying to catch it before it hit you!"
"Great job," Faith scoffed before turning serious. Grabbing the man's elbow, she guided him over to the side of the bath. "Sit down, let me look at it." Xand just stared at her. "When I was inside I did a couple of first aid courses as part of my rehabilitation."
"Uh, okay." Xander sat down.
Crouching down, Faith peered at the wound. It looked worse than it was, she decided. Taking a pair of steel tweezers out of the first aid box, she washed them under the hot tap before reaching into the cut and deftly pulling out the two slivers of glass she saw there. That accomplished, she poured some antiseptic onto a cotton bud and deftly swabbed the narrow cut. "OWWW!" Xander jerked his head back. "That hurt!"
"Don't be such a," Faith grabbed the back of Xander's head, holding him still, "baby."
"Yes, ma'am," her Watcher sarcastically replied.
"Ma'am?" Faith arched an eyebrow as she continued to work. "Call me that again and I won't just sow this cut shut. Hell, the girls would probably take up a collection if I made it so they didn't have to listen to your lame-ass jokes any more."
"Lame ass-."
"Shut up, Harris." Faith warned before picking up a needle, sterilising, and putting a thread through it. "This will hurt a bit." Xander hissed but remained still as she sewed the cut shut, Slayer nimbleness and plenty of practice working in the prison infirmary meaning she'd soon closed the wound.
"Thanks." Xander paused. "As Angel rung in?"
"Yeah," Faith nodded, "targets destroyed." Xander let out a relieved sigh. "Now," Faith continued. "Get your top off."
Her Watcher coloured. "What?"
"After that bottle smashed into your head, ya hit the ground like a stone," Faith pointed out. "And I had to drag you out from under three vamps kicking the crap outta ya. Top off, now."
X sighed at her stern tone. "Okay," the man raised his arms and winced, "I might need some help." The Sunnydaler paled when she produced a knife. "No way, this is my best shirt!"
"Ya got one eye, right?" Faith sniffed at her Watcher's vomit-coloured Hawaiian shirt even as she gleefully cut it off. "Be a man. Don't cry," she jokingly scolded. Faith winced at the sight that greeted her. "Shit, Harris."
The man's right shoulder, where he'd first hit the ground, was a discoloured mess. He'd taken a couple of heavy hits to the chest, but worse was his stomach, there was barely any white flesh left. Faith peered over the man's shoulders; there were a couple of bruises on his back too, but thankfully nowhere near his kidneys. "Dude, you are so going to the ER." Dumbass, she should have taken him there straight after the fight, but he had to play at macho.
"No, no." Faith looked back at her Watcher to see the suddenly pale-faced Watcher firmly shaking his head. "Last time I went to one of these places," the founding Scooby shuddered, "I ended up getting the rest of my eye scoped out."
"That's dum-," Faith shook her head. Trouble was, she knew 'xactly how the Californian felt. She'd gotten sick of the smell of the places as a kid, whenever her mom had taken her in after one of her 'falls'. And since her coma, the fear had only grown, ensuring she avoided the places like a Barry Manilow concert. Or an Angel sing-a-thon, it was hard to say which was worse.
But on the other hand, she had Slayer-healing. "K," Faith compromised. "But I'll have to patch you up. And you're on bed rest for the next few days."
Xander half-grinned. "Yes, nurse."
Faith smirked. "You think I'm wearing the outfit you're in fucking dream-land." Turning serious, Faith ran her fingers over X's bruises, checking him for any possible internal injuries, muttering apologises for every pained gasp. Finally satisfied there wasn't anything serious, she quickly bandaged the Watcher up. "Let's get ya to your room," she said, helping Harris to his feet and pulling his uninjured arm around her. "You can lean on me, X."
"And all four businesses are destroyed?"
"Yes, sire."
"Uh," his temper rising, Geller drummed his fingers on the arms of his chair. "And how many vampires did we lose?"
The messenger swallowed before replying. "Thirty three."
The messenger stepped back at his growl. Forcing his temper under control, he spoke again. "And that leads me with how many minions." His subordinate licked his lips. "Answer!" he thundered.
"Sixteen, mi' lord."
Gellert's muscles tensed and writhed as he struggled to control his rage. The urge to rip apart the quaking vampire stood before him was almost too much. But this demon was his childe, a smart two hundred year old vampire by the name of Drake, and he hadn't been involved in any of the disasters. "Get out!" he roared. Eyes narrowed, he watched his minion scurry out. Every one of the Slayers was going to pay. "Oh Faith," he laughed hoarsely. "The Nightmare was easy compared to what I'll do to you, now."
Solomon Emory read the morning's reports, lips pursed in thought. Harris' group appeared to have been diverted from his organisation, a happy circumstance that he doubted would last. It was fortunate, he smiled to himself, that he had a plan to deal with the troublesome group. "No half-measures."
"M…mr. Emory," he looked up to the entrance of his expansive office, the largest in the thirty-five floor building. His personal assistant was stood there, the normally glacially-poised blonde looking wild-eyed and flustered, her pleasingly lithe body twitching uncontrollably. "Y….your ten o'clock is here."
"Excellent," Emory smiled. "Be a dear and send him in."
The bulky figure that entered was around five and a half feet tall, clad from head to foot in a grey cloak. Its square-jawed face's most distinguishing feature was its single yellow eye that stared unblinkingly at him. Its most dangerous feature were the knuckles of its gnarly, three-fingered hands had barbed spikes protruding from them. "Feed me," the monster growled.
"All in good time." A Hshuma. Emory's smile widened. No wonder his secretary was such a mess. Mr. Harris and his companions were soon going to find out what a burden their consciences were.
