"The Metropolis Story…"
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Disclaimer: All BTVS characters remain the property of Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, and all other owner/creators of the Buffy the Vampire Slayer series...
Summary: Poet/Champion turned reporter/Champion (the vampire thing was involuntary) for the second least respectable news organization in Metropolis, William Soames Walthrop is assigned the job of uncovering the mysterious silence of a famed, deceased silent film star of the great film inspired by the greatest city on Earth. Both the other reporter/Champion and other reporter/seedy investigator of things mysterious in town hate his guts.
Part IX…
"Who's that…?" Lois hissed, as she buttoned the long rather drab beige raincoat she'd pulled from suitcase in the ladies room, donned dark sunglasses, and put a rather plain scarf about her hair while insisting Clark keep close by their quarry as they stood in the baggage claim area of Heathrow Airport. He gently noting that her standing by him in the claim area was a sure giveaway as to her identity should the others choose to look their way.
"Just…" she waved a hand, adjusting scarf. "Tell me if you recognize him. Is he INS or someone from Metropolis City government?"
"I've no idea. He seems English." Kent noted, eyeing the man approaching William, Kolchak, and Margaret. Walthrop seeming to face him with not a little trepidation…Moving to outright startle as the man embraced him.
"Don't move!" she growled. "They'll see me for sure. No one you've seen before?" she tried to peer round him.
"No, not at all…He seems to know Walthrop though. But Spike seems a bit…"
"That is the dumbest nickname…How'd he ever get that?" she hissed. "I said don't move!"
"Sorry. Oh, he picked it up, I guess. Anyway, that what Kolchak's called him as did that friend of his, the big wig from Los Angeles, when they met last month."
"Kolchak's pal from Wolfram-Hart, Inc? Liam Angel?" Lois, patting head. "Ok, I'm off. Try not to give me away by calling to me, Clark?" frown at his worried face.
"I know what I'm doing…Just don't give me away."
"Fine…You better hurry before one of them looks our way again."
"Right. I'll meet you at the hotel."
"Wait…What?" as she hurried off, he anxiously watching after her but trying to keep from making any obvious sign to her.
Lois? You said you'd just "get over" to them, not start tearing off after them across London?…He sighed. But concentrating, tried to focus on the group…Straining…
…
Meanwhile…Two tall, rather well-built figures in their own drab coats, hats pulled low, stood watching Kent's same quarry from a recessed corner by a women's lavatory somewhat farther up the large area's hallway…
"Sooo…At last." One enthused quietly to its partner. "We have William the Bloody in our power. The Champion who defeated the First Evil. The partner of Angelus in destroying the Senior Partners. Bertram?" the speaker, clearly at close quarters look, not quite a man but a humanoid, rubbery-faced, as in actual rubber, creature of between six and seven feet in height, skin color currently modified to seem reasonably human, eyed its fellow, likewise of rubbery face if a close view were allowed.
"Holmes…?" the addressed Bertram using the name its fellow creature had chosen to use on their return to its native England…Something of a Sherlock Holmes fan in his happier days. "Are you quite sure we should strike right now? In the middle of the airport? With the Slayer's Watcher Chairman and likely the Slayer herself and others near and the confirmed Champion and Mate here?" Bertram's voice rather startling given its size, that of a young, somewhat diffident, woman, its normally preferred form, Bertram being something of a mistake in human name assignment, she, being a female of her kind.
"Of course not, you fool…" Holmes hissed. "But as soon as he leaves and is vulnerable…We strike. And take vengeance in the name of Demonity."
"Oh, I see. Well then, shall I assume standard surveillance form?" a note of eagerness…And nervousness.
Someone here is sure to notice our forms if we remain ourselves…
And I so like playing human Bertha…
"Very well…But use the facilities for your transformation." Holmes now speaking a bit more precisely having donned the form of a tall, wiry man, rather slighter than his true frame.
Indeed, a composite of those he considered the best portrayers of Conan Doyle's famed consulting detective…Rathbone, Richardson, Gillette…Not Brett…Never quite thought he fit the bill, myself…Holmes noted. "I shall await further developments here. Be quick about it!" hiss to Bertram as Holmes fumbled in his coat pocket. Ah…He pulled out a large, curved pipe, quickly clamping it between flawless teeth.
Yes…There we are.
Pity my deerstalker is a bit too out of fashion for the city…However, the Homburg never fails, he reset his rather fine black hat firmly on the now revealed as fully human and rather dashing head.
Bertram sighing…He never has to run for the bathroom. Though it is true I lose more than a foot and a hundred pounds, bit difficult to explain. Plus, a chance to trash this awful coat and put on something nice and chic. She slipped away carefully.
I see Drusilla is back with Spike. Though it does seem the stories are true and she's human again. She does look very well, rather happy at that.
…
"Sp…William…It is good to see you again." The man embracing Walthrop to his stunned surprise had pulled back. "Hello, Rupert Giles…You must be Mr. Karl Kolchak." He offered a hand to Kolchak who repressed grin at Walthrop's clear discomforture.
"Mr. Giles…I see you know my chief reporter and this is my research assistant, Margaret Waverly." Kolchak indicating Margaret who beamed, stepping forward.
"A true pleasure, Ms. Waverly. Welcome to England." Giles, smiling kindly, offering a hand which she shook.
"Mr. Giles. It's a bit of a return though I left England many years ago…When I was a child." She noted.
"Indeed?" pleasant smile. "Well, it's changed a bit, but the essentials remain. Well, I am glad I was able to meet you personally though sorry some of Will's old friends couldn't be here. Though…"
Oh, no…Spike sighed.
Don't tell me…
I thought she was in Italy…In fact, Rupert…Slightly narrow look…
You tole me when I called…
"Spike?! Hey, Spike!" a cheery voice.
"Andrew?" Spike looked over to see one Andrew Wells, in tweed suit and spectacles, flanked by two rather attractive young ladies.
Hmmn…Clark, straining a bit but hearing all…As Lois carefully walked by the group, a non-descript tourist just trying to find…
"Oh, Miss Lane!" Margaret called. "Are you looking for your luggage?"
"This is Inga Reverson, this is Barbara McCoffey. You may remember they were in LA, during the big…Function." Andrew noted to Spike, introducing the two rather eager Slayers.
"Right…" nod. "It was quite a time. And nice of you ladies to join us."
"Oh, it was a pleasure, Mr. Walthrop." Barbara beamed, putting hand on his arm. "I'm just so glad things went well then."
"Right…" Spike nodded. Eyeing Andrew…
God, Wells…Tell me she's not…
"So, can I help you find your bags, Miss Lane?" Margaret, pleasantly.
"Just thought I'd left one behind…Checking. Don't mean to intrude." Lois, sighing.
"Can I be of service? Rupert Giles…" Giles had come over.
"Mr. Giles is assisting us here in London…" Kolchak noted, having followed over, rather distinctly amused by Lois' obvious discomfort.
So where's…? He craned to see behind, up the hallway. Ah… "Hello, Kent!" he waved.
Clark glumly waving back.
…
"Seems to be a nice family gathering, that…" the now transformed into a rather attractive brunette, if shy-looking ,young woman in reasonably chic dress and coat, Bertram, now Bertha noted to Holmes as he stood watching and sucking on his favorite pipe.
"Yes…Giles, the Slayer's Watcher and the new Chairman of the dratted restored Watchers' Council…They must be seeking something of import to make contact." Shrewd, keenly intense stare.
"He looks very glad to see William." She noted.
"Indeed." Holmes, frowning. "Far too pleased…"
"Perhaps Miss Summers and William are planning to…" she began…
"Don't be ridiculously sentimental, my girl." Holmes glared. "The Slayer's with the Immortal…Hardly interested in the likes of a bad poet turned undead Champion. She, like any leader, uses men and Unmen as she needs see fit. Just as we. But…" he pondered. "There is some reason for this meeting and for Walthrop to expose himself like this."
"He may believe all his and her enemies are dead…Most are." She offered, cautiously.
"I doubt he's such a fool as to believe that. Indeed, this may be some effort to stop a new and Evil power. That man Kolchak has a knack for uncovering minor evil…And now the Council is involved. Plus…" he paused.
"What?" Bertha eyed him.
"The Kryptonian."
She blanched. "The Superman? He's involved here?"
"More than involved…I sense his presence about." Holmes noted. "He is here, though…His alien uniqueness is difficult to track. But he is here."
"We'd better give it up then, right?" she asked anxiously. "He's more powerful than a locomotive or any demon…They say even the Slayer can't match his strength."
"Nonsense. He's just another creature gifted with powers beyond those of mortal men. But all, even he…And the Slayer…And the Champion…Have their weaknesses." Holmes, calmly. "You've sworn an oath to the Dark Powers, Bertha…I trust I can count on your support?" He eyed her coolly.
"Yes…" sighing. "But I wish I knew what it was all about."
"Precisely, my dear Bertha." Holmes nodded, sucking at pipe. "And now that is our goal."